Orochimaru liked beautiful things. Cute things. Pretty things. People of such stunning beauty that people turned their heads to catch a better look as they walked past.
What he liked more than the beautiful people, however, were the broken ones. The ones who had been damaged so thoroughly, that a single blow would shatter them into a thousand pieces. He liked to take these beautiful people, the delicate, fragile people...and destroy them. He would take them and lavish them with love and affection, make them feel wanted, make them feel needed. And then, once he grew tired of playing this game, he would abandon them.
Hurt them just to hear them scream. Leave them just to watch them cry. Jiraiya...Tsunade...Anko...Kimimaro...he had left so many broken hearts that he could scarcely remember them all. Every once in awhile, however, there were people that were different-who refused to break, or refused to play his game.
Itachi was one who refused to be broken. He played along with Orochimaru's game, letting himself be used, abused, and toyed with. He let himself be defiled and debased, but in the end, Orochimaru couldn't break him. He had been broken long ago, but had picked up the pieces and refused to let them fall apart again.
Sasori refused to play his game at all. He refused to be played with, refused to be made into a toy. He and Orochimaru danced together with equal ferocity and sadism. Their love was like war, their sex like battle.
Kabuto was by far the most intriguing of his partners. He was completely broken, completely destroyed, and yet he hid that away behind a deceptive smile and innocent eyes which held no innocence. He swept the pieces of his broken heart under the rug, hiding it even while in the heat of lust and desire, dark red face revealing nothing in sex.
Sasuke was special. He didn't depend on Orochimaru. Didn't like or love him. Orochimaru wasn't used to broken people who didn't even want him. Sasuke refused his touches and sweet lusty carresses, his soft nothings and sickly-sweet words.
No matter the lover, no matter the person, Orochimaru loved the beauty. The elegance and grace of a pretty face. He also loved destruction, the macabre, the tears, the reddened eyes and pleading words.
Orochimaru loved beautiful things.
But he loved the broken ones more.