Breaching boundaries
The shape of the horizontal figure has finally settled down and succumbed to sleep after what feels like hours of fighting against it, allowing Kabuto to move out of the shadows and approach the bed with silent steps.
There are no windows down here to shed some moonlight across the room but he doesn’t need light to know what he is looking at.
The sight is after all familiar even if he has been bereft of it for ages now.
Well, what can’t be remedied under normal circumstances will have to be dealt with in far more unorthodox manners and by this point he can no longer find the will to care if this is something he shouldn't actually be doing.
It might very well turn out to be a death sentence if the figure on the bed wakes up.
But he finds himself accepting such an outcome if that were to happen, because he can no longer bear the situation as it stands and as he is unable to get rid of his rival without suffering the consequences, this is what he has decided to resort to, aftermath be damned if that is the end that awaits him for doing this.
It has its benefits to be a medical carer to someone who would normally never accept neither drink nor food from anyone.
Under current circumstances Kabuto is allowed to not only serve sustenance but also medicine that comes with the added benefit of tasting foul to begin with.
If he tampers with it by adding something more into the mix, who would be able to tell?
Like a sedative for example.
If asked about if afterwards he would even be able to say that he considered the benefit of relaxing sleep to outweigh the risk of unconsciousness, thereby excusing himself for having administered the drug.
Not that he is planning on getting caught of course.
You just never know with someone like Orochimaru.
For someone who is wanted by so many enemies as he is, it is surprising that he isn’t more paranoid or cautious by nature.
On the other hand, it makes perfect sense considering what kind of person Orochimaru is. He probably believes himself to be indestructible.
Taking into account everything he has been through and made it out of alive, paranoia seems like a useless waste of energy for someone who always lands on his feet.
Even Kabuto himself has started to believe that Orochimaru is eternal, despite the fact that he is the one serving him medicine and caring for his health in the most doting way possible, knowing full well that his master has weaknesses.
He can simply not imagine a situation where his master wouldn’t be able to make it out alive, in one form or the other.
Despite this belief, Kabuto constantly worries.
He can’t help it, because the loss of his master would break his heart, he knows that.
It would drive him straight over the edge to insanity, and isn’t that a scary thought, that someone like Orochimaru is the only one keeping Kabuto from losing it completely.
There would be nothing left in this world for Kabuto if that happened. Who would he even be without his master?
Orochimaru means everything to him, everything.
Unfortunately, he has the nagging suspicion that the same can’t be said about him if the tables were turned, his zealous devotion does not seem to be reciprocated at all, however much he might want it.
Which means that if he can’t get what he wants the normal way, he needs to orchestrate a situation to his liking on his own.
He looks down at the sleeping form, his eyes having finally adjusted to the murkiness in the room.
Despite being so far underground it never gets pitchblack down here and by flicking on a small lighter it gets easier to see what is lying before him, a gift of pale skin dressed in simple tanned sleepwear, not one of those satin kimonos or yukatas his master usually favours, just some basic soft fabric that accentuates against his paleness and the black hair that is spread out across the large pillow beneath him.
With his eyes closed, long dark lashes resting against sharp cheekbones and the purple markings pronouncing his features, he looks ethereal but also surprisingly vulnerable.
Kabuto takes in the image presented to him in the flickering light, soaks it up the way a sponge would, his hand shaking slightly as if unable to control his movements.
Despite being able to see properly on account of the lighter, it ironically also makes it more difficult to stand here looking down at his master, because he expects those golden eyes to suddenly open and stare back at him, that familiar raspy voice asking him what it is he thinks he’s doing.
It makes Kabuto feel terribly exposed.
No, it is better with the light off he decides, so he closes the lid of the lighter again and guides his movements with the help of memory instead, the image of the sleeping man burned into his retinas.
He reaches out one of his shaking hands in search of flesh, or even better, a strand of silky hair.
Orochimaru’s hair that is always in his presence, close enough to be touched, casually tossed across a shoulder or absentmindedly carded through with deft fingers and yet always out of reach for Kabuto, no matter how close he is standing.
But just as his outstretched hand is about to connect with whatever it can find in the dark - hair, chest, face – it doesn’t really matter to him, there is a soft knock on the door that freezes him up midmovement.
He just about manages to skulk back into the shadows when the sound of a miserable voice is heard on the other side of the door, the tone a bit muffled but the words still clear enough for him to hear as his shock morphs into surprise and then growing ire.
“Are you awake?” the voice behind the door says, slightly hushed but still obnoxious enough to not care if it’s being overheard by someone other than the recipient.
Damn Sasuke.
Kabuto cannot help but seethe with anger just by imagining the brat on the other side of the door with his pathetic heart in his hand like some beggar asking for scraps from a person he should be on his hands and knees in front of, not disturbing in the middle of the night like some lovelorn juvenile.
But considering the arrogance of that little imp it should not come as a surprise at all, and for a second Kabuto can’t help but wonder if this has happened before, Sasuke sneaking off to Orochimaru’s room like a thief in the night, nothing but lust and longing on his mind.
If that is the case, has Orochimaru ever opened the door?
Kabuto shakes his head to rid himself of the detestable image and concentrates on what is being said instead.
“I know things went a little…well, I don’t know…fast, I guess, between us earlier,” Sasuke’s mumbles and Kabuto feels a cold shiver run down his spine, because, what the hell is this about?
“This is stupid. I know you told me to stay away, but I can’ sleep and I think we need to…whatever, I’m coming in,” Sasuke’s pathetic voice announces, not even waiting for a reply before the handle is turned down and a familiar shadow emerges in the doorway, complete with unruly hair and baggy clothes, apparently not changed for the night despite the late hour.
Kabuto can feel himself reeling inside.
Not only because of what is actually happening, Sasuke Uchiha daring to breach Orochimaru’s private chambers in the middle of the night while the occupant of the room is sound asleep and utterly vulnerable, but also because his mind is whirring with the words Sasuke just whispered through the door, indicating some sort of exchange between master and servant that makes Kabuto’s stomach churn with nausea.
What is it that has transpired between those two and why has Kabuto not been able to prevent it from happening?
He feels like glue stuck to his master at most hours of the day, including the situation occurring right now where he has actually sedated the man in order to be with him, and yet he has no clue what Sasuke might be referring to.
It sends a flash of red-hot rage through his system as he envisions all kinds of images of intimacy that might have occurred right under his clueless nose.
Clenching his fists, the nails painfully digging into his palms, he manages to stay in place and not reveal his presence despite the acute need to rush forward and grip Sasuke by the roots of his hair and slam that stupid teenage face hard into the wall.
With suspicious eyes he watches the boy stand in the doorway for a moment, as if contemplating what to do now that he sees that Orochimaru is sleeping and in no position to talk about whatever it is Sasuke has deemed important enough to address now instead of waiting until morning.
If Sasuke dares to wake him up, Kabuto is going to personally wrangle the life out of him with his own bare hands...
But no such thing happens.
Instead, Sasuke eventually walks into the room with a soft tread until he reaches bed.
He stands by the sleeping form looking down at it, as if considering what to do.
Kabuto can barely make him out in the darkness but is at the same time grateful for the obscurity as it also means Sasuke cannot see him should he turn his head.
The silence in the room stretches and just as Kabuto is beginning to think that Sasuke has had his eyeful and will leave again now that he has established that the Snake Sannin is dead to world and in no position to talk about whatever it is Sasuke has on his mind, the boy in front of the bed suddenly bends forward and reaches for something that has caught his attention despite the darkness.
A second later a small flame flares from Sasuke’s hand and Kabuto feels his heart catch in his throat as he realises that it is his lighter that Sasuke has found.
He must have dropped it on the bed when he fled at the sound of knocks at the door.
Gnashing his teeth at his own clumsiness he presses himself deeper into the shadows, praying that Sasuke won’t look in his direction.
But he need not worry, because just like he himself was earlier, Sasuke is transfixed by the person on the bed, roaming up and down the prone figure with eager eyes.
Then he reaches forward once more, this time with the hand that isn’t holding the lighter, and with trepidation he places the palm of his hand over Orochimaru’s chest, fingers spread as they glide across the fabric until he reaches for the hem and drags it up so the smooth, flat stomach is exposed.
For a second Kabuto braces himself for all eventuality, both a lethal attack at the unprotected figure but also a more intimate gesture.
With Sasuke, there is no telling what he will do, that is the real danger of someone like him Kabuto realises with a shudder as he watches Sasuke’s fingers caress the bare stomach with light fingertips, before going higher where he starts circling one of the nipples instead.
It feels experimental, like the boy is mapping out the body in front of him in awe, not daring to properly touch, just letting the fingertips do all the work.
But then, to Kabuto’s rising horror the hand begins to move south once more, until it reaches the waistband of the soft pants Orochimaru is wearing, for a second hesitating before disappearing underneath the fabric, cupping what is hidden down there.
Kabuto can feel himself draw blood with the force that his nails are digging into his palms, his whole body shaking from the shock over the brazen audacity the teenager is displaying.
It doesn’t matter that Kabuto himself is the reason why Orochimaru is lying helpless and unconscious in his bed, blissfully ignorant of what is being done to his body right now.
It’s Kabuto’s prerogative after all, to be in this room while Orochimaru sleeps.
He has served his master for years without so much a whisper of gratitude, and the man keeps sleeping with everyone but him even though Kabuto would do anything for him.
It’s only fair for him to have a little something at least.
But now Sasuke has stolen this as well, just as he steals everything in his wake.
With a sickening feeling Kabuto watches as Sasuke’s hand moves underneath the fabric around the crotch, stroking what is there, cupping it and massaging the flesh while he holds the lighter close to the sleeping man’s face, as if searching for signs of pleasure.
Luckily Orochimaru doesn’t move a muscle.
Kabuto isn’t sure he would be able to stomach the image of Sasuke bringing his master to completion while he sleeps.
He isn’t sure how he even manages to stay where he is, watching it all play out without intervening.
Sasuke is taking everything from him right now and he is just allowing it to happen while he hides in the shadows like someone insignificant.
Kabuto is anything but that.
He is arrogant, he knows it, Orochimaru has told him that on numerous occasions, but there is a reason for it after all. He is the second best there is, after his master of course. He can afford to be arrogant with that amount of talent.
He just bides his time, that’s all.
It helps to think about the ways he would like to take Sasuke’ life after tonight.
It would not be easy and Orochimaru would turn furious of course.
Sasuke is the vessel he has been waiting for years to take over after all.
Killing Sasuke would without doubt mean Kabuto’s own death if getting caught doing it.
But right now, he is beyond caring about that.
All he wants is to tear Sasuke to pieces, obliterate him into nothingness, as if he had never been born.
Only that kind of outcome would be able to comfort him right now.
By the bed, Sasuke has withdrawn his hand from Orochimaru’s pants and has now put it inside his own pants instead where a prominent tent, despite the bagginess of the clothes, is visible through the fabric.
It only takes him a few eager strokes to bring himself to completion, the only sound in the room being the slapping sound of flesh and the grunts coming from Sasuke’s mouth as he comes, soaking the front of his pants but apparently not caring about the mess he’s made.
After having regained his normal breathing pattern once more, he leans forward, towards Orochimaru’s restful face and presses a kiss to his lips, a kiss that lasts far too long and leaves the boy in a unusually vulnerable angle while doing so.
Kabuto wonders if he would be able to throw a kunai in the boy’s back while he is occupied with the kiss, but he knows that Sasuke is Orochimaru’s student after all, he would never be able to become the victim of a surprise attack, no matter how distracted he might seem right now.
The kiss lingers on for an agonizingly long time before Sasuke lets go and rises again.
Then, as if deeming himself finished, he pulls the upper part of Orochimaru’s sleepwear down again, covering the stomach once more, tracing a finger along one of the sleeping man’s sharp jawlines with a surprising tenderness that seems foreign to see in the otherwise hardened features of the Uchiha brat.
Finally satisfied, he suddenly turns on his heel, flicks off the light and offhandedly throws the lighter in Kabuto’s direction, where it lands in front of his feet with a metallic clatter against the floor.
“Thanks for the loan. Hope you enjoyed the show, creep. He’s all yours now.”
With those words Sasuke saunters out of the room, closing the door with a firm bang in his wake and leaves Kabuto staring with bated breath at the discarded lighter on the floor, his whole body trembling as the mind is chasing every erratic thought whirling inside his head.
Over by the bed Orochimaru turns in his sleep, his back against the room now, a sign of finality as good as any, that this night is undeniably over and done with.