A/N: Done for livejournal's 30kisses' community.

1. look over here

He has been in the sound for two months, seven days, six hours, and two minutes.

He trains the majority of the time and does not eat often, taking his nutrients instead from the rain.

Always he silently refuses any form of bickering from opposing members of the sound. He ignores them with a cold snarl in his eyes and a hard frown shaping his lips. Orochimaru is mine; his eyes would say. Orochimaru is the man who would give him power and that is all that matters, a simple entity; it is pounding mantra in his head, the aggressive fingers on the piano keys.

The Uchiha, they are a possessive clan and Sasuke is of no exception to this. He doesn’t like following the rules if he doesn’t find them necessary, his blood is the only thing that gets in his way. Is his way.Look my way. Orochimaru says with his eyes, a golden yellow with pupils that are thin ebony diamonds that make slender cuts through his arrogance.

And Sasuke looks.

Your way?

He wonders if the blood flowing through his veins will allow it.

2. news; letter

His friends are dead.

Orochimaru tells him this, voice curling and full of delicious lively tones. The news almost too tragic and surreal to be true. That he had killed them.

He does not remember doing it. But the red-washed tile of his shower where he is always watching the Uchiha, enjoying the almost casual way the water flows down his back and the unpolished blade of his katana growing dull from him hacking at bodies and leaving it aside when he comes into the room long finger searching and pinning him down giving the boy what he deserves is more than enough proof.

He doesn’t cry.

The familiar sense of longing is an impossible gulf to fill; the remembrance of them who tried with their puny magnetism is long gone. The red of their blood on the grass makes no sense to him and an uninterested feeling in him moves. He looks at his white teacher and figures he is grey. Black suited him best.

Laying himself over knees best kept at a distance he ignores caution and let’s dry tears fall out. The long fingers of someone older give him comfort as they thread through hair. Cold lips touch his cheek and he shudders, that constant shudder and still he does not pull away; wanting to find the lost brother/sister/father/mother/lover in that touch and does not.

3. jolt!

Orochimaru saw the boy through the corner of his eye the first time but did not meet him until the bridge was gaping and his elder brother was out of reach of the younger’s soft touch. He had been different then, not searching for a container, not quite yet but enjoying what disguises he could give birth to.

One was of Shisui Uchiha, he had been the first, a fleeting hour after his death. Itachi thinking the body was sealed away under collapsed wood and swirling cold waters headed south. Orochimaru had donned the pretty face that would now be one of aged nostalgia which reminded the sennin of poisoned wine left in the cellar for the offspring of enemies. He had smiled then. A Shisui smile coloured to perfection before a dirty mirror. His guise was perfect, from clever blue eyes to curling lanky ebony hair, the sandals the same and worn, tainted with blood and mud.

Like many days, he had visited the Uchiha district when it was raining.

“Shisui-san” a young voice had called out, an unripe fruit, without blemish the boy’s eyes were only tinted a blossoming red.

“You’ll catch cold if you keep getting wet like that,” a red umbrella, it suited him, this little boy fine. And he held it over Orochimaru’s head trusting that it was for family.

“Sasuke-kun” Orochimaru said the velvety tone missing replaced with a mocking laugh and feigned warmth. Sasuke had frowned at him and Orochimaru could tell he knew something was off.

Meeting him eye to eye was different and he saw the boy jump.

“You are…”

Orochimaru brought a finger up to Shisui’s stolen lips and the mouth split into a long smirk, wide and gaping around rubbery skin. A hiss that was a shush feel past the sound of the rain and his eyes looked so wet and clear when they sought the hidden gaze of the serpent.

4. our distance and that person

He takes the measured steps seriously, every moment a precious time in space, space in time he hates and understands so much it hurts. Unbidden he presses hands over and above-

“Silence,” Orochimaru tells him, “is one of your many perfections.”

And silently Sasuke shook his head.

5. "ano sa" ("hey, you know...")

“Sasuke-kun,” and the fondness, that fake tender tone that Sasuke could recognize through the hushed and loud voices of everyone in the world, a voice he could- would always be able to distinguish. Called to him, dauntingly and achingly Sasuke wanted to turn around, hands hesitant and unmoving over the small jars of herbs and old things Kabuto had asked him to organize if he ever became bored.

Guiltily, Sasuke knew he had not been aware of them leaving or returning home. There was no recollecting of this time or that time. He hated himself. Orochimaru’s arm folded around him, loose and secure, Sasuke shudder, a deep shifting motion that caused a schism to open in a vast calculating dark.

“I don’t like people touching what is mine,” the flicked touch, skimming over his chest and lower, parting, and carving past his clothing. Sasuke said nothing.

He didn’t need to.

6. the space between dream and reality

He laid there.

The mattress was not old or new. It was neither and nothing in-between. Sasuke had no idea; the hazy fog his mind seemed wrapped around in nowadays prevented him from thinking of anything other than backwashed words and old distant thoughts that liked to dance in repeated steps of equally old traditional prompts. Sighing he rolled over on his side, body tense and worn from sleeping in one alerted position.

In a bout of feeling the natural light for once out of 28 days, he wrapped his arms around Orochimaru who lay beside him, finding comfort in pressing himself against his master’s back.

Unflinchingly he tried to spot the blue of sky and found that the clouds covered it up, so all he saw was bright white. He pressed swollen lips against a shoulder blade and took repeated breaths. Wondering how it was possible that he could see through the shouji screens.

7. superstar

He holds his breath, Orochimaru reaching to unfasten his obi, his long finger contradicting and his eyes far too kind.

Quietly the fingers hush his startled sobs and Sasuke finds that he can cry out to no one. For no one could help him now in this dark room filled with scented curtains and a soft futon. His hands are still so small and he has learned many things in Sound, remembering what it means to laugh or cry.

“Sensei-“

And Orochimaru hushes him again, Sasuke pulled so close his lips bumped against his teacher’s collarbone. Eyes wide yet fearless he feels he has things to do.

“You are so beautiful,” hands hold him down and he does not move, tossed about against threads descending, a nova. His breath comes out harshly and he cries out many times. “He likes to watch you too, didn’t you know?”

That line, with its simple words. Sasuke knows who. And back arching he feels himself come hard and rough and fast, hot like Orochimaru’s throbbing dick in him. Startled he cannot help his rapid pulse and flushed face, fingers digging into flesh that was not his in anyway other than this sick ceremony he would repeat over and over again to recapture a feeling that really wasn’t there to begin with.

8. our own world

He looks across the lake, a hand curling over Orochimaru’s, Sasuke’s dainty fingers feeling the slick blade, the cool steel of this Kusanagi.

“A present to you,” Orochimaru says as he leans close kissing the boy’s neck, the roots of his silky blue hair. Sasuke’s breath has been taken away. Without it his mouth is parted and looks so soft and his eyes shine a dark they usually only shine in the closed rooms they often barded secrets in.

“Present?” such pretty long lashes flicker, and the snake reaches to brush away fallen strands, led astray across the Uchiha heir’s face, passive.

“To welcome your coming of age.”

Head bowed Sasuke does not say thank you.

Nor does he need to.

9. dash

He reaches the unknown gate and does not hesitate as he pounds past the iron wrought gates, breath coming in a sharp tangle of air he could not see.

He wants to see Orochimaru he convinces himself, why else would he be so-

“Come in,”

He enters, flinging back the opening with such a force it is a surprise the wood did not break. “Orochimaru!” stumbling his bare feet are torn from the running.

His muscles shook in pain, as his shoulders do and he falls into an embrace so overdue and weeps out the feeling- the memory. Trying so hard to forget it all when Orochimaru lays him across the floor, tongue warm and searching, greedy hands wandering over him, he cannot wipe away the image of their dead bodies in his mind, raping his mind’s eye over and over again as Orochimaru does so to his body.

10. #10

Standing on long legs, the kimono slips to the floor in a hap hazardous circle foretelling the deadly look in the boy’s eyes as he tries to reach to and grab what was lost.

“Relax, Sasuke-kun,” calm his Sensei’s voice is and throbbing is the lump in his throat- forcing a spray of words to become lost from no attention. He falls to his knees, startled he tries to rise, gain back the charka he had used constantly for the spans of ten days and ten nights in completing the Uchiha’s last legacy. A doijutsu so powerful that if not maintained that during the first hour it could kill you.

Only once could you use this technique resulting in its use for twenty-three days. For after that with eyes completely red you would die. He had to conquer it now and chase down Itachi; before Orochimaru found out his plan, and the fact that his container, his lover, and his protégé would be no more. Given himself up o the vigorous blood in his veins, the very bane of his existence.

He lets agony shift into him, the burn of the cursed seal wrapping itself about his limbs fueling a passion that as spontaneous it had lived- would die.

11. gardenia

It is not often they eat grapes, if any fruit- apples were much preferred. Cherries, strawberries, red fruit was welcomed. But grapes are not red, least the kind Kabuto had bought on some black market who knew where. Grapes like many things did not grow in a place of Sound.

Sasuke sets a bowl of them on the table, falling back into a sitting position on the purple and gold embroidered cushion below him, popping one into his mouth with no caution for the first time in months.

The fruit is wonderfully cold, damning summer heat and he feels at ease even though he does not want to be. He lays a hand against cooler wood and wishes to leave this small base and return to a place more secure in Sound, with cooler rooms and more doors than he could count.

This place was stifling. And his clothes felt all wrong on him, a snake hissed and curled past by his tucked ankle in calling and he rises.

Leaving the once occupied seat empty without his presence, all to respond to his master; Sasuke finds himself smiling.

12. in a good mood

Humming Orochimaru wraps long arms around his apprentice ignoring the sharp gasp of indigence and proceeded to tuck his hands under the torn material of the boy’s shirt and over the smooth expanse of his stomach up to his chest.

“Sasuke-kun,” he whispers, the tone playful and Sasuke has the feeling his teacher wants some exchange of playful banter Sasuke certainly isn’t used to using without sarcasm (unbecoming) and rage (undignified) which is just not allowed.

So instead Sasuke bites the snake’s lip.

Showing- proving to the snake a falcon does not need fangs when it has talons.

13. excessive chain

“Sasuke-kun.”

“I will not be persuaded out of this Orochimaru,” the boy’s words are bitter, and sharp the curling roots long dead lay at the bottom of a murky river.

“I’m going.”

“Why are you so determined to do this?”

“Because-“ I’m afraid.

Of what?

I don’t know.

His eyes are a gold Sasuke can barely detect under the hanging branches of willow trees the scent of the sea gone and the ache in his heart continuous as he finds himself wanting to belong. And that felling was not allowed anymore. And even as Sasuke’ knew this, feet hesitant as they crossed across thick branches and grassy fields.

He wished Orohchimaru would follow him.

14. radio-cassette player

Unease shifts through him and Sasuke finds his fingers clenching around a wooden handle, the polished wood smooth like many things he had touched, an unused katana, the skin of dead sheep.

A rotting corpse is set out on the table before him and the test begins. Kabuto nervous and fidgety with his glasses. Orochimaru smiles that long curling smile as Sasuke finishes, accurate with his carving, the simple kunai that had been used wiped clean with a provided bit of rag.

The organs are splayed out in the order of size, along side the body. Sasuke’s work clean and efficient, neat and quick. Orochimaru claps his hands at such skillful a job and Sasuke welcomes this bit of unwarned praise.

The melodic sounds of an old song forming words in the back of his mind, shaping themselves over the wrinkles on his brain, ingraining and reminding him even as his smile does not show up on the surface of his face; that it is still there.

15. perfect blue

He doesn’t understand it.

This character he has been told to practice diligently over and over on the crisp white paper made by dying cranes during November. The small fibers of grey bleed through barely from the pale texture. It feels smooth under his fingers, even if he knows it is rough and he takes the time for a mere second to think of it as old and not new. But it is new.

Orochimaru has been out for a while.

And with a jolt he realizes the character he has been writing is ‘sky’; and it has faded out from the paper because he has ran out of ink.

“Orochimaru,” he calls out and he wonders if Orochimaru will be back with more ink, even though he knows he won’t be ever. The thought is a lonely thought. He doesn’t understand that either.

When Orochimaru returns and slips past his sheets, heavy on night and success Sasuke welcomes him this time and rejoices in each shiver and shudder his body makes under the charming touch, willingly tasting scales and dried blood, a tangy fake sweat from things synthetic. And when he feels the warm white liquid shoot over his belly, this time he does not hesitate to smear the fluid across himself and onto the very pads and curves of his fingers, taking each coated finger and licking- sucking them clean.

Smiling a content smile, he allows large hands to enclose around his own. Longer, fingers that had been endless inside him moments ago fondle and fold around his own. “What did you write with these perfect hands today, Sasuke-kun?” and Sasuke feels the cooling trail of saliva across his cheek, and neck, his body a warm contrast to place outside the bed sheets.

Un-doubtful he realizes that the ink-

The ink was a perfect blue.

16. invincible; unrivaled

They meet their end from the tip of his sharp blade.

Clapped hands, Sasuke turns his head and receives his praise at the toll of being this man’s tool.

“Orochimaru,” his voice is quiet, hushed in this small palace where he has lighted the best of fires; fit for a banquet. Smiling Orochimaru, white hand from a white sleeve reaches out to him and questioning, Sasuke looks at it. Wondering if Orochimaru could hear the same sonata he did.

“Sasuke-kun.”

There is no question any longer.

Fingers spread apart as Sasuke begrudgingly knew his legs would be that night, he took the offered hand. Not biting it. Not yet.

It would take some time before he could defeat his own king.

17. kHz (kilohertz)

Chidori.

Sasuke remembers it well and wonders about colour he could not see.

Up the stairs.

Entangled.

He catches his breath.

And sees it only once.

This light.

With a hand over his mouth.

Orochimaru whispers to him secrets he already knew and things too intimate that he dare not admit to craving.

18. "say ahh..."

When they ate dinner together it was always served by Kabuto on the medium sized lacquered table, curving white snakes around the branches of sakura covered by bowls and plates usually of white rice and herbed fish steaming- rarely do they eat bird and Sasuke appreciates that having just been taught how to properly use his wings.

The dinnerware have a tendency to be a black (with golden butterflies fluttering across the warmed china) but today they are white and harbor curling blue birds flying on them; he is displeased to know the course consists mainly of duck and chicken, roasted over a fire full of smoke, both birds are a delicious golden brown and fat makes them look shiny and slick. The blood dried and drained for the most part, Sasuke notices with a slight frown. Stir-fried cabbage and the thin-cut long shoots of bamboo have been prepared to go along with the bird and white rice. When he brings his hand up to cup his bowl into his grasp he notices his skin is the same shade of the rice.

Orochimaru is the first to eat and he almost seems to hum in delight at how good it tastes hot, the meat peeling right off the bones. Sasuke cannot help the feeling of queasiness that allows the growing lump in his throat rise uncomfortably.

Shaking his head, long strands of hair statically sticking to his chin and cheeks he resists to leave and-

“Sasuke-kun,” Orochimaru’s voice is thick and velvety with something Sasuke has come to learn to be accustomed to and the prodigy cannot help but turn his head to his master, head swiftly turning to respond, only to allow soft red lips to bump against moist chicken pinched by the slender white porcelain chopsticks.

They part hesitantly and snap shut and he fights back to shoot the snake a glare.

“Say ah,”

He does, eyes shut taking in the small bit of food and delicately chewing. After he swallows he denies the existence of the soft turn of his lips. He doesn’t say thank you but he feels it, a dainty fleeting dash of pink blossoming over his cheeks. Orochimaru had switched the bird for a tiny chunk of rice.

That night his hand fist against the sheets but he doesn’t utter any complaint.

19. red

He ties his hair in a red ribbon.

The snake watches eyes peering through a slit frame, as long slender fingers weave through the long blue locks untangling and entangling secrets that are silent every morning. Sasuke unwillingly leans into these fingers, not wanting to enjoy their caress but does so anyway.

Orochimaru leans over the boy, hands hovering over his tired limp form. Every muscle in the young Uchiha’s body is trembling from over use, and he is shivering from cold. Carefully they slip from their long sleeves and gather him close.

The red ribbon falls out of his hair and he looks at Orochimaru with red red eyes.

20. the road home

When he flew. It hurt, and like the price he had to pay for his wings, it was exhilarating.

He likes the wind the sky, in its many tones, its shades of grey and blue, so untouched by man this act- his flight is as sin.

And when he returns back aching and bones weary, the lighted hollow feeling of a joy he could not withhold, he collapses on the bed. A salve Kabuto only knows how to make nearby, warm and think it will be rubbed across his back by hands so cold, he can feel them through the synthetic warmth he curls into. Then a mouth will be by his ear, sharp and distinct words will be murmured to him and he will sleep and know nothing of Orochimaru crawling over him, embracing him in that way he’ll so fiercely clung to when he murmurs back with muscles that will be much sorer in the morning and a voice rasping slightly for water.

Coldly, the lump in his throat, so heavy were his wings. He thinks of a river that ran from the snowy mountains, but was as red as blood.

21. violence; pillage/plunder; extortion

The Sound is a deadly place. And its people are just as deadly. It would be no surprise they followed the example of their leader. A snake that knew how to bite and spit the right amount of poison into any wound.

His arm hurts slung in a cradle of white that serves him no right, gives him no justice. This week he is bitter and tastes the air in new ways. Scorned from a battle that lasted 9 days and 9 nights he knows nothing but bloodshed and his hands ache to return to his sword, so ready for battle. Kusanagi. It cries to him. And often when Orochimaru strokes him, lips pressed against his scalp, Sasuke imagines ramming in to the snake’s head casually.

He does not think he’ll turn back.

22. cradle

Stolen from the-

Sasuke presses down, biting into Orochimaru’s lower lip, withholding a moan he had been so carefully containing through those small simple moments. The night air carrying torn wings and crying hawks. They were in a small secluded room, slightly burned from his rage and Manda’s need of warmth from the falling snow.

The large snake wreaks havoc where it pleases, not at all minding how its summoner is too busy finding a way to untie his obi quicker for the sake of pleasing his master.

23. candy

It is bitter and not at all sweet. And sickened, he finds himself liking the taste of it over that of the dango Itachi had once pinched into his mouth, expression unreadable as ever. At least here he saw it a twisted mouth so pleased with him. And golden eyes that reminded him of the print of golden leaves circling the rim of his favourite tea cup.

Sasuke feels a hand slide down his shoulders, urging him to continue, he had not noticed his momentary pause, mouth slipping from the hard cock, leaving a trail of sticky saliva across the mattress below and circling around his chapped lips. Hesitantly he starts again, closing his eyes so Orochimaru does not notice how they have switched into their primal red as rage burns in his rushed veins and pounding heart, a headache finding its way and almost causing him to choke as a stream of the white fluid comes rushing down his throat again.

He swallows his anger and digs his fingers into hard thighs, trying to remember how the silk kimono had felt across his skin till Orochimaru had unfolded him from it only hours before, those hands precisely untying an obi they had so meticulously tied earlier that day.

Over and over.

Sasuke likes the task in its ritual sense far more then a child loves candy.

24. good night

His hand lies still against the door frame, body stiff and rigid, his spine set so straight it feels as if it would bend forward and snap. Sasuke clutches at the folds of his kimono and gasps out shallow breaths at a memory’s pace.

“Orochimaru-“

“Sleep well, Sasuke-kun.” A sultry chuckle that sends electric shivers across the straight and narrow of his back, hands fisting into the silk fabric warmed by his master’s cool fingers only moments ago; Sasuke dares not turn his head to answer and keeps walking. Thoughts far away from his cold futon and back to a warm pillow shared just between the two of them. His feet cold against the panels of wood he thinks of girlish smiles and unseen sunshine.

I’m weird… he puts a hand over his mouth and calls out good night.

25. fence

There is something between them. A vast wall of shades of different grey and bits of bloodstained feather.

He remembers light for the first time, the feel of anxious excited hands press against his shoulder blades and the sprout of his wings, feathers and scales a combination of sin unplaced in the world. Like us.

Sometimes that small place on his back itches and it seems his hand would never reach, but Sasuke is flexible in many ways from a training in the night that only kunoichi know all the secrets of.

“Where is it?” he asks Orochimaru a chime in his voice that is pleasant and pleading but aloof as Sasuke approaches the snake. A trained wary in his eyes, from not knowing the price for salve.

“In the third drawer under the seventh cabinet,” throaty, a white hand, as bleached bones from the desert sun, his smirk is pointy with regular fangs and his mood shifts from a sullen greed to a pleasant cockiness Sasuke recognizes that he has himself.

He turns his back and swears he feels the long trail of saliva stretch across the skin of his neck, pleasant and frightening all at once, but when he turns his head to look he sees only the profile of Orochimaru’s slightly turned head as they walk away from one another.

“If you can’t find it, Kabuto should also know,” a slight wave and a customary chuckle. Sasuke feels his feet move a step backward in a desperation he used only for the clan. His lips part to form words but do not and he bites his tongue agitated at the retreating footsteps.

Why is he leaving?

He doesn’t want Kabutoto help him find the salve. He tastes blood and realizes his teeth have bitten far too much into his tongue, it hurts and almost longingly he wonders if Orochimaru wants to taste any of his pain.

His fingers brush against the edges of a fence.

26. if only I could make you mine

The boy’s eyes are extremely wide. Orochimaru, with every step presses Sasuke farther into a corner he would not be able to grasp when the time would be so right.

“Sasuke-kun,” and he cannot resist caressing him, his protégé with his slim white limbs and shoulders, cold and shaking he could tell. Naked from Orochimaru so easily pulling at the worn fold, a silk smooth as water and the colour of dark wine. The Uchiha heir had looked especially irresistible this night, with his moist lashes and curling wet hair. A run from the rain always reminded him of the first day Sasuke had come to him, his home. With his quivering body and determined eyes, hands clawing at Kabuto. Bring me to Orochimaru!

The curve of his neck white, save for the marring black of heaven pierced into him with the agony of tempted power. Orochimaru kisses it, Sasuke’s hands resisting him, pushing him back in the futile way a dying man’s hands would to the rope around his wrists; even though it is the rope around his neck that matters. “Sensei-“

Orochimaru swallows the word, and Sasuke; pressing his body closer, the sharp angles, the hollow places only he seemed to carry. Caused Orochimaru to shudder and the boy almost plead further with his twisting hips and weak knees.

Resurrected Orochimaru would make him; fingers pressing against unwilling thighs, and a turned cheek. He gasps words the snake cannot possibly know or understand. And wrists pressed against the wall of hard wood- there is only dilemma, and Sasuke’s gasping and lips bitten red and soft.

27. overflow

Passing a pitcher, a vase, a bucket, a small cup- his burned calloused fingers forward into the cold flowing water. He notices the area around him is dry.

“Why?”

He asks.

And Orochimaru puts a hand over his bleeding eyes, and softly bending to whisper into his ear, the catalyst of all motion. “Because,”

And he doesn’t hear anything as he doesn’t see anything and Orochimaru crushes his lips against his, blood drying under the fingertips.

28. Wada Calcium CD3

Orochimaru is sitting by him, as he is still on the old futon. Smelling of moths and other little things that can only remind him of dead mice and dried squid.

“Take this.”

He rises, his teacher’s hand coming to feel at his forehead as Kabuto’s had. But their hands are vastly different, Kabuto’s it that of a medics and he had felt the lines on wires on the pads, the callous from kunai and smoother places where glasses had settled carefully on different days. They had been reassuring in their own way, the way a healer’s hands were; but still Sasuke knew they brought more death than life.

Orochimaru’s hands are different, they are cold and despite his teacher’s long decades of living the life of a shinobi, who understood every groove of every weapon, and the hilt of a katana, they were cold and smooth. Haunted they remind him of one of his cousin’s hands had felt, so encased in the smooth protection of ice; and this brings him more comfort. It is no surprise to him when he feels Orochimaru almost give a start when he leans into them eager with his feverish head and shut eyes.

Tight.

Hid hands wrap around the offered/ordered cup.

He drinks.

And tongue tingling at familiarity, says- “Milk?”

29. the sound of waves-

The sand is soft and gritty. It clings to his skin as the sea’s spray does and he doesn’t remember coming here.

Why am I here?

Slowly, hands bracing himself against the shifting ground he pushes himself into a sitting position.

The sound of waves in his ears.

And looking to his left he sees the snake and wonders why he can’t see anything.

“Orochimaru,” he calls out and cannot hear his one voice, his master’s response also lost to him. He feels goose bumps rise over his flesh, the folds of his kimono trailing down, and a warm cool hand touches his skin. A soft caress. He is relaxed, the simple touch traveling up and down his back, across curves, and outlined bone under skin the holds little flesh. The touch reminds him of petals the crashing of simplistic waves does not leave his ears.

It is wet and touches his collarbone, licking away sea spray. A shudder and his hands clench against too perfect sand. It feels like morning, as his muscles loosen and contract, the hazy feel of just waking up and out of a dreamHe wonders what he dreamt about and curls fingers in long straight hair that isn’t unfamiliar to his touch.

A soft sigh, it escapes softer lips and he reaches an arm forth to invite waves.

Waves. The sound won’t leave his ears.

30. kiss

Sasuke drops Kusanagi, he can feel its vibration as it falls to his feet, sheathed it barely cuts the ground. Scarlet are his eyes as he looks forward to Orochimaru, teeth bared, he finds the urge to fight rushing in him as it always does.

“Do not be so angry with me,” deep and resonating, the sound of ripple across the surface of a pond littered with gunpowder.

“Orochimaru,” he bites out, strained -a heaviness coming in rapid feeling.

His knees scrape against the ground and his legs do not move, the strike he had been ready to rush forward into, his limbs already thick with poison unfamiliar to his system, Orochimaru looks down on him. Eyes smiling just as his lips.

“You didn’t honestly think I would just let you go?” his hand comes, stroking the side of Sasuke’s cheek, letting it fall to curl harshly under the boy’s chin. Cupping it, the other hand winding itself in the downy strands of the hair around the nape of Sasuke’s bruised neck.

Serene, Orochimaru bends forward, towering over a Sasuke who has unwillingly kneeled before him. He kisses him, taking full advantage of Sasuke’s anger and letting it sear his lips in a passion that had nothing to do with so-called-love; it ripped and tore at him. Electric and fire all at once, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth all the more exciting as Sasuke’s lax arms were almost desperately trying to find a way to get to him.

When he withdraws, Sasuke’s lips are as bloody as his, the crimson of his blood- Orochimaru notices, interested to find it is a different red compared to the red of his boy’s eyes. But he finds them both just as pretty. Turmoil written in slick lines across Sasuke’s face –

Sasuke, swiftly spits at him; blinking Orochimaru is hit in the right eye. He smiles still, back slightly hunch- he kisses the Uchiha’s forehead and can feel the boy’s suppressed rage.

Lazily he wonders if Sasuke can burn the poison from his system- when there is a flash, Kusanagi slicing upward and taking his arm-

But before Orochimaru can say anything, a curse coming to him- he sees Kusanagi in the process has sliced at one of Sasuke’s wrist. Allowing blood to flow out and with it some of the poison, enough to have Sasuke swift on his feet again, hand crushing Orochimaru’s throat.

Panting, breath and closeness intoxicating, eyes narrowed. Orochimaru almost laughs aloud but can’t, at how seduced he could not help but be even in this ridiculous predicament.

“You didn’t think it was that easy?” and Sasuke’s lips fumble against his, in a way a first kiss does, Orochimaru smiles against Sasuke’s lips; it had always been Orochimaru who had kissed Sasuke all these years.

And when Sasuke withdraws.

Kusanagi is in hand, and vehemently he takes Orochimaru’s head in a single swing.

--

Complete.