Crave his touch

Orochimaru, to Danzo’s great disappointment doesn’t bother replying to his summoning.

He half expected it and yet held some hope that he might be proven wrong.

He gives the young shinobi a week, plenty of time to make a move. When the time is up, he gives him another one, but to no avail. Orochimaru remains silent and out of reach.

Danzo wonders if Hiruzen has said something to warn his former student to stay away from him.

Danzo wouldn’t put it past that old dodger to discredit him, even if he can’t exactly pinpoint why he would go through that kind of trouble.

Maybe it’s simply a case of proving that his favourite protégé isn’t liable to switch sides that easily, no matter how eagerly Danzo is willing to woo Orochimaru if that is what it takes to get closer to him.

And Danzo is certainly willing, almost too eager for his own good, he has difficulty accepting how needy he feels when he considers caressing pale, smooth skin and card his fingers through thick black hair, so dark it absorbs the light that reflects in each strand when the sun hits it.

That’s how the whole essence of Orochimaru feels sometimes, like he absorbs everything in his path, devours it, like a snake swallowing its prey, silently, with efficient cruelty, and even if that image should rightfully disturb him, Danzo finds himself more drawn to the darkness surrounding Orochimaru instead of recoiling from it as most people would.

He also knows that Hiruzen has that same inclination, even if they otherwise don’t have much in common personality wise.

Hiruzen is a coward and too lenient, he guides the village in a direction Danzo doesn’t approve of and the rivalry that exists between them has been building for years. Even when they were younger and technically should work towards the same goals, there was always something prickling uncomfortably just beneath the surface.

Danzo always figured it’s because they are so different that they have never managed to mend the chasm that divide them, they are far too dissimilar, with completely diverse ways of looking at the world.

And yet, perhaps their mutual interest in Orochimaru is that one thing they actually have in common, although Danzo is pretty sure Hiruzen doesn’t think about his student as intimately as Danzo does when he lets his mind to wander in a direction that he normally never allows himself to take.

Danzo wants Orochimaru in every way imaginable, both his power, intelligence and skill, but also his body, his mind, his words.

He wants those golden eyes to look at him, nimble fingers to pry him open and that sharp mouth to spread wide to devour Danzo’s most intimate parts like a glutton would bite into the flesh of a ripe apple.

Danzo would gladly permit Orochimaru to consume him, he would make the exception he normally wouldn’t give anyone else and let the young shinobi render him helpless and wanting, pushed to his very limit, just for the satisfaction of feeling that body press against his own, the tongue trail against dry, coarse skin while sharp nails scratch deep bleeding stripes across his back, pleasure and pain combined in a way Danzo knows only Orochimaru would know how to offer him.

He involuntarily shudders with desire at the vivid images clouding his thoughts every time he is alone in his chambers, disrobing for the night, washing his body clean in front of a small mirror that only reflects his lustful gaze, before slipping underneath the duvet, feeling the cool sheets against his hot skin as he visualises Orochimaru spread out across his bed.

For Danzo to touch, claim and conquer.

But when morning comes yet another night has passed where no word from the shinobi has reached his ears and the brutal harshness of reality is turning his mood foul and tetchy as he realises that his dreams might probably remain just that - dreams.

But one afternoon, much to his surprise, he stumbles upon the elusive young man, purely by accident.

It’s been five weeks since he slipped the note to Orochimaru and for once his mind is not fixated on Hiruzen’s former student as he walks down the path behind the Academy, a small grove of trees to his right and the school building to his left, leaving him to walk in the shadow as was his purpose for seeking seclusion after a meeting in the hokage’s office earlier.

He’s in a foul mood, annoyed with a lot of things that came to light during that meeting and he doesn’t know how to vent his frustration, despite his effort to walk off the worst of it in a place he knows is usually quiet and desolate, with a cooling shade from both the trees as well as the Academy building.

He remembers being a student himself, ages ago, and wonders what kind of talent is currently being honed inside the classrooms he walks by.

The windows are higher up so he has no view of the students sitting at their desks listening to lectures that are designed to prepare them for a life as the protectors of this village, soldiers in future wars, many of them probably dead before the age of forty, depending on how skilled they are.

He hasn’t heard much rumour about unusual talent among the current classes but always tries to keep tabs on any gossip relating to a student worthy to keep an eye on for future purposes.

So far, no one has surpassed the reputation of the formidable trio led by Hiruzen, a trio that now continues to prove their worth even without their sensei to guide them.

They are capable of extraordinary achievements, Orchimaru dubbed the genius of his generation, even surpassing his sensei when it comes to intelligence and talent, and so far there has been no one to outdo them.

Well, there is still time.

But quite frankly, Danzo’s mind is too agitated to think about future recruits as he trails along the path, silently fuming over the meeting he participated in earlier.

What kind of future will it be if Hiruzen keeps walking down the road he has chosen for the village?

Not a great one in Danzo’s opinion and he grumbles bitterly about this, lost in thought, and perhaps this is why it takes him by surprise to suddenly stumble upon the elusive young shinobi, when least expecting it.

He silently emerges from behind the trees further up ahead and Danzo’s gaze is drawn to the approaching figure as of its own accord, as if his eyes know what to look for before his head has managed to catch up properly.

Orochimaru is dressed in the regular flak jacket and the headband most of them wear, mostly when out in battle, but some also when back in the village, as if to prove that they belong to some greater cause that gives them the privilege of being part of an exclusive group of people.

Danzo has never been particularly fond of the attire but he wore it himself when he was younger and he gets why it might mean something to some individuals, the gullible ones who needs to belong instead of relying on their own strength and talent to venture through the quagmire that is life.

Why Orochimaru is wearing it now is anyone’s guess, he usually favours a distinctly softer and luxurious set of clothes when home in Konoha, but the flak jacket and the headband is not a bad look on him.

The latter helps to keep the long tresses of hair away from his eyes and even if the uniform is rather common and dull, more about functionality than fashion, Orochimaru manages to look more imposing than most others wearing it.

It’s probably something about the way he carries himself no doubt and Danzo can feel his heartrate pick up in pace, both because his dislike of the uniform but also because the sight of Orochimaru throws him off guard in a way he doesn’t like to associate with the image he tries to cultivate about himself as a man of cold-heartedness and brutality. Someone who is always in control.

He likes to see himself as a tactician with a cause greater than others, the creator of ROOT and a more relentless way of leading his subordinates than how Hiruzen conducts his business.

A man with a heart beating as rapidly as the heart of schoolboy with a stupid crush does not fit well with that image.

After managing to compose himself a little, Danzo allows his eyes to move past Orochimaru to scout for his two companions but it seems that Orochimaru is actually alone, probably returning from individual training.

So, this is to be his opportunity then?

For all his waiting, Danzo isn’t completely convinced he knows how to go about this venture now that he actually has the opportunity within reach to communicate with the person whose company he has long sought after.

“Orochimaru-san,” he begins smoothly, staring levelly at him as they meet midway on the path, the leaves from the nearby trees rustling in the slight breeze as if whispering amongst themselves that a significant occurrence is taking place at this very moment with no one else but them to bear witness to it.

Danzo pushes down the senseless ridiculousness of thinking about nature and trees in a moment like this, steels himself to look composed and waits patiently for a respectful nod of the head that never comes.

Orochimaru’s eyes have an ambiguous look in them, something between haughtiness and a glimmer of curious mirth.

It is as if he’s daring Danzo to point out his lack of respect for an older, more distinguished member of their village and Danzo in his turn refuses to fall for such childish antics by exposing how it bothers him to be disrespected so blatantly.

When a close to agonizingly long moment of silence has passed, the acknowledgement of Danzo’s superiority finally comes, although half-heartedly, as if given with considerable effort and it comes with a nonchalant bow that goes against every rule of proper conduct between an older man and a younger one, however talented and skilled the young one might be.

Danzo feels his blood boil at the brazenness of it, even if he knows that Orochimaru generally holds no love for authority just because it’s expected of him.

Orochimaru only cares about talent and gives his respect, if he has any, to those who earn it.

So far, Danzo has not.

Orochimaru isn’t as blatant about his disrespect as Jiraiya is though.

Jiraiya is in a category of his own when it comes to insolence and rude behaviour, and unlike Orochimaru he lacks the talent of a more refined manner when showing his contempt towards a person he doesn’t consider worthy of his time.

Danzo would hate for himself to fall into that category and he will absolutely blame Hiruzen if that is the case, but he decides to not take it personally just yet.

Orochimaru doesn’t know him that well after all.

After having acknowledged Orochimaru’s nonchalant greeting, Danzo plasters on a smile he hopes matches the one the younger man is currently wearing – an undercurrent of scorn mixed with false politeness, smooth as the silk Orochimaru is so fond of wearing, sharp as the kunai hanging from his belt.

To save his own face and give the young shinobi a chance to rectify some error of judgement, Danzo asks a question he is pretty sure he already knows the answer to even if a part of him hopes he might be wrong, because if he is, it would explain why Orochimaru never sought him out after Danzo asked him to.

Against all hope he wishes to get the unexpected reply.

“Did you receive the message where I asked you to come look for me?” he says and watches Orochimaru’s blank features carefully.

A moment of silence stretches between them while those eerie, glimmering eyes scrutinize him, before the young man answers.

“I did, yes.”

No apology for never replying, no explanation why he didn’t come find him.

Simply the affirmation that he did indeed receive the note Danzo snuck into his obi and if Danzo wants a more thorough explanation, he will need to degrade himself by asking for it and risk facing further humiliation.

He should take the reply as a rejection and move on, but Danzo is not the kind of man who easily accepts defeat, especially not when no real effort has been made yet.

Perhaps he needs to tempt Orochimaru with something that he would find worth his time before jumping straight to the subject that interests himself the most.

And if he knows something about what makes Orochimaru tick, it’s the thirst for knowledge and to improve himself and strive to be better than anyone else. He is greedy and selfish and hungry for what is officially forbidden to crave, it is evident when you look at him closely.

Luckily, Danzo can relate to the fire that sometimes burns in the young man’s eyes and he thinks that they would get along splendidly, if Orochimaru just allowed Danzo to show who he really is and what they can achieve if they work together.

Danzo is pretty sure he will eventually learn how to control the haughty young man with a little time and some patience, and then benfit greatly from reaping the rewards of such a relatioship, both privately as well as professionally.

So he makes an offer, a position in his own ROOT organisation, dangles the advantages in the other man’s face and spins tales of promises he hopes one day will be true but he in all fairness don’t know if they ever can be.

Every bait usually consists of at least some amount of falseness, a promise is never better than the person making it, and Danzo knows that for all his ambitions and cunningness, he isn’t a good, honest man at heart, and he has no interest in being that either.

All he wants is what will serve himself the best, with the excuse that he is doing it all for the sake of the village, and the one to help him, on more levels than one, is the shinobi standing in front of him, even if Orochimaru probably has his own selfish reasons for listening to Danzo’s offerings.

But so what?

Danzo has his own self-interested reasons as well, and if their individual goals happen to coincide, all the better for both of them, right?

If it can actually be accomplished.

Danzo is no idealist, not anymore, he has seen what life and circumstance can do to people, despite their earnest intentions, so he doesn’t put all hope on dreams anymore, even if he still works hard to achieve them.

Orochimaru is one of those dreams, and Danzo will keep on trying even if the young man chooses to spurn his advances this time around.

Because Danzo is no fool. He might be lusting for him but he isn’t willing to degrade himself completely.

Either Orochimaru takes him up on his offer or he doesn’t. Danzo can do no more than make promises he hopes to be able to fulfil and let Orochimaru judge if what he is offering is something that he could be interested in.

Unfortunately, this time, with the afternoon sun setting behind Orochimaru’s head, creating a moment of a golden halo visible in the background and Danzo feels sweat trickle down his back and armpits, rejection hits him hard in the gut as Orochimaru with a cool politeness declines the offer.

Luckily the offer made was on a professional level and Danzo still has plenty of cards up his sleeve, no need to feel his dry cheeks blush on account of embarrassment for trying to overreach something a man at his age has no business asking a young man like Orochimaru. He hasn’t crossed that line yet, even if he half suspects Orochimaru might have already figured it out.

Instead Danzo accepts the polite refusal with a firm nod of the head as he moves past Orochimaru and disappears into the shadows of the trees up ahead, while Orochimaru keeps on walking in the opposite direction, as if they never even met.

Only two years later, when time and circumstances have changed, and Orochimaru has succumbed to his darker urges and is busying himself with sneaking behind Hiruzen’s back as often as he can to do unspeakable acts in the name of science while Danzo is only too happy to be his enabler, the sour taste of rejection that sunny afternoon is only a hazy memory of a time when Danzo hadn’t reached his goal yet.

Now he imagines that he has got what he so desperately wanted all those years ago, lying back in his bed with a satisfied grin, watching Orochimaru slip out from his position on the cool, white sheets, his pale skin smooth like marble in the moonlight shining in through the window.

He doesn’t realise until later that Orochimaru is someone who can never be owned.

On silent feet, one hand deftly picking up his purple yukata that’s hanging across the back of a chair, Orochimaru silently dresses himself, back turned against the bed and Danzo’s pleased gaze.

Once he’s done, Orochimaru doesn’t even turn his head to acknowledge the man in the bed as he seats himself comfortably in the chair and picks up a scroll that Danzo gifted him earlier that evening.

Without raising his eyes, he softly speaks, still not looking at Danzo, more like he’s talking to the room instead of to a person.

“You can stay if you want, but be quiet about it. I’m not interested in listening to the sound of an old man snoring. If staying silent proves to be too much for you, you know where the door is.”

Danzo feels himself almost choke on the bile that rises through his throat at those words.

This is his room after all.

He invited Orochimaru to stay the night and now he is the one made to feel like a guest.

No, not like a guest.

Like an intruder, an inconvenience.

The gall of it makes anger rise within him but he sees that he has lost the younger man’s attention in favour of the script that pale, slender fingers hold carefully while golden eyes roam the content with eagerness.

There is no point showing his anger when no one is willing to witness it.

Danzo drapes the duvet closer around his cold clammy skin, the stickiness of semen still evident between the back of his thighs, dripping from him, no longer like a source of recently gained pleasure but more like evidence of having been used and discarded.

By the dying embers of the fireplace, a pale face partly hidden by tresses of jet-black hair makes a point of not looking at him where he lies, shivering in a large bed that suddenly feels far emptier than ever before, knowing that he has finally gained what he always wanted and still suffers the agony of feeling the satisfaction of a dream come true turn into bitter ashes in his mouth.