A/N: Okay. I got this idea from a one-shot that was less than 1,000 words. The first chapter is set-up, and Orochimaru's first little playtime session for the story. I hope you like it. It left me a little disturbed. Should I even be saying that? Oh, and if anyone can tell me how to edit the little specifics, I forgot to add "yaoi" in there...I'm a dummy.
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Pretty Dead Things
Inspired by the one-shot, “Alabaster”, by NyanRoo
Chapter 1: Door #22
What was he in the mood for? It was the same thing, every day. Every minute of every day, he was faced with choices, and there were simply too many. A ghostly pale hand pushed inky hair from eyes that shone like hammered gold in the hallway, and he peered through each of the doors in turn. These doors had tiny windows, ones that no one could escape from, letting light from the hall into their dim interiors. The amount of light mattered not.
Each door was labeled, its contents catalogued and statistics kept on each. It was like a museum, in a way. His helpers were so fastidious in their work…especially Kabuto.
He looked into one door, which contained a girl of about sixteen. No, no, she wouldn’t do. Not today. Her long legs and feminine curves would do nothing for him at the moment. And he truly was not in the mood to listen to her whining about being rescued. That was only for when he was feeling especially sadistic. Sighing, he moved to another door across the hall. Another girl, huddled in the corner, curled tightly into a fetal position…the newest addition to his collection.
A gloved hand reached around him suddenly to pull the chart from where it had been in the metal pocket on the door. Orochimaru turned his head to look at his chief physician. As the silver-haired man adjusted his glasses, he said, “She’s not responding as well to the drugs as some,” and his beetle black eyes met with those of his master before looking quickly away.
“What do you suggest, Kabuto?” Orochimaru’s gravelly voice came lowly, still staring at the girl in the corner, wondering when she would be ready for use. He had seen when the Uchiha had brought her in, and he had to agree with him. She was lovely. Orochimaru might even consider allowing her a better room, so long as Sasuke kept his hands off of her.
“Well…” a scarred finger tapped on pursed lips, eyes wandering to the ceiling and a bit to the right, “I think that she needs to feel safe, Orochimaru-sama. Look at her posture. She needs that false sense of security. I think it would be best if we put her in a larger cell with her cousin.” Orochimaru’s eyes widened, but Kabuto soon allayed his fears. “She did come here to rescue him, after all. Give her what she wants. Let her see Neji.”
Orochimaru rolled the thought around in his head. Allowing the girl to see her cousin would probably restore her to some form of sanity, yes. But at what cost? They could formulate a plan for escape. Neji had already made the attempt—chakra suppressing drugs or no—several times alone. If he was to keep them, they had to die, if only a little. Their spirits must be dulled, but not broken. It never did do for him to have a completely compliant plaything. A little resistance was best, though not too much, or it wasn’t worth the trouble. The scar on his thigh was proof enough of that. “Fine. But up the dosage on Neji. We can’t have our little genius making off with her now, can we?” Kabuto chuckled in agreement, casting a clinical eye over the blue-haired girl in the room. Orochimaru kept walking. It would be perhaps another week.
Further down the hall, he heard chains rattle. A smile crossed his face, and looked down the hall toward the only door that had no window. It was, instead, only bars. The two meter square cell was inhabited by the only of his playthings that refused to break, and did not respond at all to the drugs that suppressed his chakra. It was for this reason that he was kept in cell number 30, the strongest fortified. The chains were made from a titanium alloy, which was connected to a kind of battery that held a store of chakra. This battery was replenished every seventy-two hours, and because of this, the boy inside remained the way he was: naked and chained both hand and foot, behind fuda-plastered bars.
“Where are you?!” the boy screamed, “I can fucking smell you, bastard! Come over here so I can rip your throat out!” Chains rattled, and he heard bare feet slapping on a hard stone floor. He was very glad for those chains at the moment. If not for them, the deranged young man would have murdered him in his sleep by now. How unsightly…
Orochimaru then stopped, smiling. He turned to his right, and peered into door number 22. Somehow, while the rest were usually pacing in agitation, or screaming like the boy in cell thirty, this young man only sat in the center of the cold, bare floor, his hair dark and disheveled, with the pale green yukata provided to him folded neatly nearby. The Sannin liked to watch him as he meditated in the dark. He did not seem to mind the cold floor on his naked skin, or the wide leather collar, with its large metal ring, around his neck. There was something so…contradictory in the way he sat there, unmoving, his eyes closed, naked flesh exposed for all the world that cared to look, rigidly upright, yet somehow still lazy.
He was indifferent, but still made enough resistance most times to keep Orochimaru happy. And all he ever asked for in return was to know how many days he had been there. It had been sixty-seven days, now. The pale Sannin snapped his fingers, and a suitably nondescript man appeared, kneeling, almost instantly.
“Yes, Orochimaru-sama?”
Hooking a thumb toward the ironbound door, he said, “Have the lazy one cleaned and fed, then bring him to my chambers.” With a nod, the man drew a large ring of keys from his pocket, and Orochimaru turned away to return to his chambers.
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A pair of eyes watched all of this warily, and as the occupant of cell 22 was led by a leash down a side corridor to the baths, these eyes turned to look at the open-barred cell 30, all the way at the end of the hall. Tabi whispered on the floor as he proceeded forward, not sparing the other doors a glance. On his way to the door, he picked up a chair. Setting it directly in front of the bars, he sat down delicately. As he arranged the folds of deep purple silk he wore, so that he could avoid them wrinkling, he heard a gasp. “S-Sasuke?”
Dark eyes turned to see the lean, dirty face of the cell’s occupant. Blonde hair hung lank and knotted, and the young man’s blue eyes seemed a bit wilder than he remembered them. As Sasuke sat primly in his chair, he watched Naruto rush at the bars, only to be stopped short by the chains that would not allow him near enough to touch the bars. Kneeling so quickly that Sasuke was certain that he would bruise himself, Naruto stretched his arms, pushing his head forward, so that his face was just between the bars of the cell. “Hello, Naruto,” Sasuke said calmly, and leaned forward, looking into those nearly feral eyes. “I understand that you’re not being very…cooperative.”
“Un…cooperative?” Naruto said haltingly, and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. A sudden flare of chakra came from Naruto, and his eyes rapidly bled red, their pupils stretching to thin slits. “What the hell do you mean, uncooperative? How else am I supposed to be? I’ve been beaten, stabbed, strangled, and…” the blonde boy’s voice lowered, a thread of shame weaving through his tone, “…raped…why don’t you tell me how I’m supposed to act now?”
Sasuke’s lips twisted into a wan smile, and his fingers rose, caressing the invisible chakra field that surrounded Naruto’s cell, just in front of his former friend’s face. Had it not been there, he would be running the pads of his fingers over Naruto’s cheek. “I know,” he breathed, “I know, Naruto.”
Naruto started. His blood-red eyes glared at Sasuke. “You know? You fucking know? What do you know? You’re not locked up, chained, starved, and whenever that snake-bastard feels like it, does he have you tranquilized so that he can torture you? Fuck no! He only does that to me. I know why he does it. He’s trying to break me. Fucking Orochimaru…he wants to break me…and you—you asshole—you know?” Naruto began leaning harder on his chains, almost enough to pull his shoulders out of socket. Sasuke’s eyes widened a fraction as Naruto continued to rave. “You don’t know a fucking thing, Uchiha! Do you know how it feels to be completely unable to move your body…when he…does things to you? How it feels to be at his mercy like that? I can’t even scream.”
The chakra swelling inside the cell was becoming too great. The barrier began to weaken, though Sasuke was certain that Naruto had not noticed. He simply pressed his face against the barrier, trying to push his face out of the cell, and Sasuke could feel the fudas tearing…the chains rattled again, Naruto slumped, all the fight momentarily gone from him. His head hung low, and when he looked back up, his eyes were their own mesmerizing blue once again. Sasuke blinked slowly. “I do know, Naruto.” He slipped from the chair, coming to kneel before the bars. “I know what he’s done to you, because he’s done even worse to me.”
“W-What?” Naruto stammered, shuffling forward on his knees as much as he could. “What has he done to you?”
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Shikamaru’s feet touched carpet, and he paused. Then, he was yanked forward on the leash. This again? It was too much trouble to resist more than just a little, but he really did want to. The bastard had called for him again. It couldn’t have been more than three days since last time. At least, that was what his internal clock said. The doors to Orochimaru’s rooms lay just ahead, and his handler raised a fist to knock. After a moment, a low murmured, “Enter,” came through the door, and the heavy wooden portal opened.
“Ah, Nara-san…you look well. Did you have a nice bath?” Orochimaru was lounging on a couch made of black velvet, toying with a scroll. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. He never answered the man’s questions. The older man gave a minimalist shrug before waving away the handler, who unclipped the collar from the leash before beating a hasty retreat. Milky-white hands were fast and efficient in rolling the scroll before Orochimaru stood. He approached slowly, the white yukata he wore slipping off of one of his pale shoulders as he moved.
Shikamaru’s eyes strayed momentarily to that newly exposed skin. He’d bitten him there the last time. There was no bruise, though. Still, it had been somewhat satisfying to sink his teeth into the flesh of Orochimaru’s shoulder, giving pain for that which was inflicted upon him. It hadn’t really hurt the other man, which became apparent when things finished much more quickly than they usually did. Apparently, it didn’t matter what end of things Orochimaru was on, so long as it was rough. The young jounin didn’t consider himself to be a sadist, but he wondered how much pain he would have to inflict on this man during sex for him not to like it, and he was willing to experiment until he discovered the answer.
“I don’t suppose that you would be disposed to speaking today, would you, Nara-san?” Orochimaru’s cold fingers traced the angular line of his jaw, and he tried unsuccessfully not to flinch away. “Come, now, Nara-san…I enjoy hearing your voice. Let me hear it…” Orochimaru moved so that he was behind him now, and he could feel that same hand grip the back of his yukata’s neck. That fabric was yanked down, exposing his back and chest, but restricting the movement of his arms. After the initial fight to free his arms, and the predictable request not to move them, Shikamaru stood still, waiting.
For a long moment, he felt nothing. Then, he felt chakra flare behind him, and a palm was slammed into the base of his spine, causing him to stagger forward. “Gah…” he choked out, falling to his knees as his nerves felt like they were on fire, liquid agony coursing through his veins, and he tried hard to breathe, to keep his eyes from welling up with tears, and to stop himself from whimpering.
“Ah. I see that it’s working…” Orochimaru’s voice was now at his ear. “Stand up, Nara-san.” Without a thought to the contrary, Shikamaru followed the order, and was soon given another. A wide smile crossed snake-like features as Orochimaru said, “Remove your clothing.” His hands moved diligently, though he himself did not make them do so. “I suppose,” Orochimaru purred in his ear as sharp nails teased the skin of his chest, “that you’re wondering why? Why do you do exactly as I say?”
“Not really. It’s rather simple.”
Something wet flicked across his shoulder, and he heard, “Simple? Is it, now…then why don’t you explain it, Nara-san?”
Shikamaru stood motionless, save for his mouth, which moved to form words as Orochimaru licked the skin of his neck. “It is obviously some kind of compulsion jutsu. Probably used in interrogations. I have seen similar things used in Konoha. If I have guessed correctly, the duration of this technique is close to three hours, yes?”
“Astute, as always,” lips moved near his ear, hot breath breezing over his skin. “Nara-san, you bit me.”
Shikamaru smirked. “I did.”
There was a strange texture moving over his skin now. It felt like paper, rasping slightly over the muscles of his back, until it was removed, and he saw the scroll being tossed across the room into a messy pile in the very corner. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you? Inflicting pain…on me.”
--
“Yes.” The young man said flatly, and Orochimaru smiled. This one was pretty, though not in a feminine way. He had a strange fascination with this one. Orochimaru, in spite of his vast knowledge and experience, had never encountered anyone remotely similar to him, which probably accounted for the attraction. Nara Shikamaru was different from his other toys, and for tonight, he would indulge himself in a different way than he did with those others.
“What would you say, Nara-san,” his lips trailed over supple skin and he almost moaned at the feeling of the velvety texture, “if I told you that you could do it again?”
“What’s to say?” Shikamaru answered, “I would bite you. It’s not difficult.”
Orochimaru leaned against him, pulling at his shoulders so that he could hold the younger man against his chest. “Oh, but it isn’t that simple, Nara-san. You see, I used that technique for a very specific reason.” Burying his nose in freshly washed hair, he growled. He loved the feeling of this man’s hair. Its texture was exquisite, especially when he grasped a handful of it to yank on as he made Shikamaru cry out in unwilling ecstasy. “I used it because today, you will do everything I say that you will. Today, you will use what your keen mind has learned. You, Nara-san, are going to fuck me.”
“I’m going to…”
Orochimaru’s hand reached down, grasping the younger man’s half-flaccid length. “Yes…” He breathed, nuzzling at the other’s neck, “You’re going to fuck me, and you’re going to like it. Aren’t you?”
“But…”
“Oh, come now, you can be as rough as you like, Nara-san. This is, you could say, a once in a lifetime opportunity. And it isn’t as if you have a choice. Not with the technique I’ve used on you. I can feel it working already.” Indeed, the boy’s member was wakening in his hand, and he nearly shivered at the thought of it entering him. “Now, turn around.” There was nothing that Shikamaru could do to resist. Orochimaru watched the younger man as he unwillingly—or willingly, because he really couldn’t read minds, so he didn’t know—pulled at the obi of the yukata he wore. Shikamaru kept it in his hand as he gently removed the garment, leaving Orochimaru naked.
“What are you going to do with that?” he nodded at the strip of cloth in Shikamaru’s hand. It wasn’t long before he found out. The fabric was wound around his eyes, and secured behind his head. He could now only feel what was being done to him.
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Shikamaru almost sighed. He couldn’t not do this, so he decided that he was going to do as much as he could to enjoy himself. He hated looking into the man’s eyes, so, he covered them. The obi was long, so once he tied it in a square knot behind the man’s head, he also used the remainder as a gag so that he didn’t have to hear him talk. “That’s better,” he heard himself say. Now, if he closed his eyes, he could pretend that Orochimaru was someone else.
Though he was not a homosexual, Shikamaru could understand the aesthetics of the male body. And he knew that he did not, and could not find this man attractive. Therefore, he had to think of someone that he could possibly find attractive. It took a long moment, but he finally settled on one of his fellow jounin.
Shikamaru didn’t want to open his eyes in the middle of his excursion into his imagination and see Orochimaru, so he bound his own eyes, as well. He had never really spent much time around Shiranui Genma, but he found the man’s oral fixation to be amusing. And, he had a very biting wit, so the two of them got along well when they were forced to work together. That he was aesthetically pleasing was secondary. Shikamaru didn’t think he could fuck someone just because they looked good. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get off if he was being annoyed.
When he felt Orochimaru’s erection against his leg, he was imagining that it was Genma’s, which made it much less repulsive. And when he grasped both of the man’s wrists, he could practically visualize Genma’s face, which would probably be rather flushed at this point, gasping in surprise as Orochimaru was at that moment. In his head, it was Genma who struggled halfheartedly against him as he pinned his hands against the wall, mouth latching onto the soft skin of his neck to bite and suck at the skin there.
Muffled cries echoed through the room, and Shikamaru smirked. He released his grip on the man’s wrists, raking his nails down a firm chest and leaning down to brutally suck at a hardened nipple. He could hear Genma in his head, overpowering Orochimaru’s cries of pained pleasure. The other jounin was complaining that he was being too rough. Shikamaru gave a small chuckle as he released that nipple before moving to the other, which he bit down on, nearly hard enough to draw blood.
He could taste sweat, and he smelled sex. It was getting warm, and he felt hands gripping his hair, pulling him harder against the skin he abused with his mouth. One of those hands left his hair and moved to trail fingers down his abdomen, not quite able to reach the erection he had been ignoring. He slapped at that hand. “No you don’t.” A groan let him know that his companion was growing restless. He moved back up the other man’s body, skin sliding against skin, and allowed his erection to brush against the other’s. “You’ll…ahhhh…get your fill of activity…but patience is a virtue.”
“Nnngh…” was all he heard from his gagged captive.
His hands reached up, pulling at the man’s hair until his head tilted back, and was pressed against the wall. Shikamaru let his lips trail over the column of a throat, and he flicked out his tongue before sinking his teeth in and grinding his hips against those of the man pinned against the wall. A white-hot spike of pleasure shot through his body, and his grip on the other man’s hair tightened, pulling harder. “Ah…” He moaned, repeating the motion and getting the same result. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good…he wasn’t supposed to enjoy the way his skin slid against Orochimaru’s. No. He wasn’t doing this to the snake man. It wasn’t the image of that pasty jerk-off of a Sannin that was running rampant through his mind.
Illustrated in his mind, in full color, was a picture of himself, grinding against a flushed, panting, and very willing Shiranui Genma, and Shikamaru found himself drawn to that image. His breathing quickened as he saw himself kneeling. Shikamaru took Genma’s erection into his mouth, applying both teeth and tongue, keeping the man from thrusting into his throat to choke him. All that came from the other man’s throat were wild, wordless cries that Shikamaru barely understood, but didn’t really need to.
He used his elbow to bump Genma’s legs open a bit wider as he removed his mouth from the pulsing heat, instead stroking hard at it with his right hand as he began sucking on his own fingers. Once he was satisfied with the coat of saliva on the first three digits, he pushed himself to his feet, and said, “Turn around.”
Once the other man had done as ordered, Shikamaru made certain that he had a good grip on the man’s hip with one hand before pushing a finger into tight, slick heat. He heard a loud groan, and realized that it wasn’t just the man his fingers penetrated. Blood rushed through his body, flooding southern portions as his imagination worked overtime, and Shikamaru bit down on a shoulder as he moved his finger in and out, working harder and faster with every second.
Grinding hard against the other man’s leg, he inserted another finger shoving hard, not caring if it hurt, because he was imagining what was soon to come, when he could feel himself pushing, thrusting, sliding against and into the heat that surrounded his fingers, and he saw Genma’s face, gasping in pleasure, screaming, writhing beneath him…
In a whisper that was too soft for his companion to hear, he growled, “Fuck the other finger...” and ripped the first two from where he had been thrusting them in and out of heat so intense it threatened to burn him alive. Without further preparation, and with no warning, he positioned himself and thrust drove himself deeply into the other man.
“Nnnnhgh! Ugh…hhhhaaannnghh!” Was all he heard over his own labored breathing as he began a fevered pace, reaching around to stroke at the other man’s neglected erection. Shikamaru was beside himself with pleasure. He tried to hold himself back, to keep from enjoying the thoughts he was having. But it did no good. Maybe it was the technique the man had used, or maybe it was that he was thinking of something he wasn’t supposed to, but it felt like he was going to die if he didn’t come soon. Very, very soon. Shikamaru reached forward blindly, taking ha handful of hair in his hand and yanking at it until the taller man was flush against his chest. Changing his grip, he matched the stroking of his hand to the thrusting of his hips.
He leaned heavily on the other man, wrapping a leg around a strong thigh and using the leverage to plunge deeper into that wet heat that he knew was going to make him insane. His mouth latched onto the back of a sweaty neck, teeth sinking in, breaking skin. Coppery-tasting blood filled his mouth, and he swallowed it down. It was a familiar taste, but foreign enough, since it wasn’t his own. Finally, he felt the more than familiar tightening in his stomach, and he pushed hard, hearing one final scream before hot liquid spilled over his hand. There was a spasm of inner muscles around him, and he groaned at the further tightening before grabbing both of the man’s hips and pushing him away before turning him round and shoving him the floor.
In a moment, he was atop the man, pushing in, thrusting, pounding him hard against the floor, all the while seeing a pair of dark brown eyes staring intensely up at him and begging him to go faster, thrust harder, until finally, with a loud cry, he came.
Collapsing in a boneless heap onto a heaving chest, he waited for the euphoria to end. Once he felt that he could move again, he removed his blindfold, and that of the man beneath him. Looking down at Orochimaru, he asked, “Was that rough enough?”
The Sannin’s eyes rested on the blood now drying on his lips. “Yes…though I have to say…you’re so much more aggressive than I thought you could be. It’s refreshing to see you put up so much effort.”
Shikamaru snorted before hauling himself to his feet. When he bent to retrieve his yukata, he saw that there was blood on his thighs. Slipping it on again, he glanced over his shoulder. There was blood on the floor, as well.
He was not a sadist, but he couldn’t help but feel that he’d won a little victory against the other man, no matter how small. He had been sure (in the back of his mind…a part that had not been buys envisioning his comrade) that Orochimaru had not enjoyed it as much as he let on. As he moved to the doors, he had to smile. That was energy well spent.
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A/N: Well. I guess this one's going to be real porn now, isn't it? Oh, and I really pity Genma when Shikamaru gets back to Konoha...
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Chapter notes: As stated in the summary, I read NyanRoo's "Alabaster", and my brain went running with the idea of a collection. Of course, it's neatly labeled, and there's even a curator (Kabuto), so it's sort of like a little museum...in a way. But in any case, I just want you all to know that this is pretty twisted, and it's only Chapter 1. So yeah...read at your own risk. There'll probably be many different pairings, 'cause Orochimaru's a sick, sick man.
Warnings:
FL--Foul Language
Y--Yaoi
V--Violence (it's rough sex...don't ask.)
Legal Stuffiness: I do not own Naruto, or any of the characters therein. Kishimoto Masashi, sole proprietor.