The Stage's Avenger

A/N: 500 hits on 2 chapters~! WOO! I suppose with all of the reviews, people are really enjoying the idea of this! But people should remember, this is something to clear my head when I can’t focus on ‘Found You’, so this story may never finish – and may update very infrequently.

A note: Sasuke’s seiyuu, Mr. I need a paper bag because I’m a butterface - does sing. He coulda been a Jrocker if he wasn’t more hideous than Mana’s never-seen ass fried in Crisco. If you want to hear Sasuke making sweet love to a microphone, there are songs on the BLEACH ost performed by his series personality – Quincy. ‘Suigintou no Yoru’ is probably the best one.

oOKeairaOo: The thought’s appreciated! I’d rather not have my fic in too many places, though, and I’m not a member of LJ. It’d seem kinda cheap joining just to put it up, ne? Ah well. I’ll just have to make this fic SO FUCKING HOTZORZ that people will have to come here to read it cuz they’ll be talking about it in those rings!

Chapter pairings: Uchihacest, Orochimaru x Kabuto

Disclaimer: I do not own Uchiha Sasuke’s audio tapes. …Sadly.

The Stage’s Avenger
by Peaches

Chapter Three

One of the clunking boots that had been unbearable to stand in thudded on the floor under the table, followed by the other. Sasuke raised a leg to rest his socked foot on the edge of the table and stare to the pair that had invited him.

Neither made a comment towards the stain of blue punch on the big toe.

The one with the silver hair had come back stage and presented the business card and immediately, Ino had tried to take herself and that ‘friend’ who was supposed to be the leader up on it. Though the guy apologized humbly, he was stern about making sure only Sasuke came with him. So now, that group wanted nothing to do with him and had cursed him on the way out while the blond threatened to auction off his briefs.

Like it was the only pair he had.

Or that he could go home in them. But the guy he was being introduced to… Pitch eyes narrowed, enhanced by the shadow riding his lower rims as he chewed his lip in thought. What a creepy guy. Though Sasuke externally emitted no signs of being disturbed, his insides were slowly freezing over. He could only assume it was because they wanted to die at the way the man licked as his lips and his poisoned gold eyes glazed over every time Sasuke did anything.

He had never felt so revolted to be in his own skin.

“…If you’re just going to stare…” he offered glumly, arms slung across the back of the booth cushions. When he moved to get up, the young man settled a hand on his bangled wrist. He was about to rip it away when the creepy man spoke up.

“You have potential.”

Never in Sasuke’s dreams or nightmares could he have grasped how disgusted he could feel with being paid a compliment. The oily voice was still in his ears and resulted in him shuddering. It was different from having a bubble of chlorine from the pool; this was one that migrated through the channels to one’s throat and constricted them.

He ignored the discomfort to attempt swallowing the lump away. Grimacing as his arms folded impatiently, he inclined his head for an answer. “Potential for what?”

A child’s curiosity was one he never grew tired of. Sulfuric eyes rolled up with a smile, chuckling shortly to himself. “To be owned by every listening ear in this country and then some.”

Defiant, the Uchiha breathed his own chuckle, defensively narrowing his eyes. Beside him, the silver-haired man shifted to adjust his glasses. “You can tell that after just one song?”

“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself,” he cooed insipidly, placing his hollowed cheek in to a hand. “Or me for that matter, Sasuke-kun.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Impishly he smiled, breathing out a chuckle. “Of course. Uchiha-kun, then.”

Features twisting sourly, Sasuke pulled his foot off the table and collected himself to leave, hissing under his breath. “If you’re just going to condescend to me…” He had better things to do than listen to some freak speak to him like he was still in grade school.

What a temper. In the beat of the café that swayed to the new band occupying the stage, it was easy for him to shiver and go unnoticed. But, this one appeared to be more… rabid than the older specimen he had the fortune of crossing. By the way the boy’s lip curled as his angry glare settled, Orochimaru must have been licking his dried lips again and not been keeping aware of it.

The smaller guy removed the lenses from his nose, his tone casual and informative, but second in his priorities as he freed a kerchief to clean them. “Please, do not be mistaken. We would like to speak to you with the utmost respect – and do – but we cannot give you the same title as…” Dark brown eyes drifted to the older man that cut in to his explanation with that giddy venom lacing his tone.

“—We simply can’t give you the same amount of consideration as we would if… you were Uchiha-san.” His expression was priceless, and in the shadows of his bangs, his pupils had the guise of being inky slats in pools of joy-smelted gold.

There was so much in common. They had the same pride in their spine that widened graceful shoulders. This one, however, had a way that his hips tilted forward, keeping the rest of him at distance and isolated from anyone that could ever be close to him.

He had no reason for anyone else, when Sasuke knew he already belonged to someone, carried himself in a manner that said he was in no way collared like the leather on his neck belied. Instead, it was a badge that he wore in the esteem of no one else being able to bend such a confession from him.

Uchihas broke for no one. This one, though rabid, had a bed not his own in which he retreated to. At the mere thought a peel of laughter erupted from him, disturbing the immediate tables and his company. His lungs ached and his loins burned, collecting a fist on the table as he shook his head of the absurdity. It wasn’t tangible, how different they were. He had been convinced, for the longest time, that the entire lot of them must have been passionless, ruthless calculators. Here, right in front of him stood the antithesis to everything that brilliant, frigid little prick stood for.

Kabuto shifted his stubborn glasses, glancing to the teen that stood in mute contempt. As the snake of a man uncurled from his own hysterical world, one eye from the swamp of his hair peered up as his cheek rested on the cool tabletop.

“How does it sound, Sasuke? Contract that wonderful voice of yours to me…”

Nails dug in to the wood grain as he watched the consideration drift through ebon pools that ran much deeper than the lifeless pair he had been reduced to working with so many late nights.

”Scream for me…” trickled under his breath, lips twisting at the idea. Anything but ‘yes’ would bring from him a joy that would dampen the fabric bunched in his lap. The small price of his entertainment.

“I believe what Orochimaru-sama is… attempting to convey is that—“ There wasn’t a soul that had the intent to let him finish tonight, the snip of ire next to the table stopping him.

“I think he’s trying to ask me to sing on his cock until dawn.”

In his lapse, the serpent could pay no heed to how the Uchiha gnashed his jaw and turned away. He could only tremble in the aftershocks of bliss at the way a leather-wrapped ass retreated for the doors. Beside him, his shoulder nudged in the energy of Kabuto rising to remind the boy of his abandoned clogs.

Sasuke would rather walk home in his socks than take the offer of a ride home or put on those unbearable rubber stilts.

Six inches from where they had started, his nails were now cracked and filed from dragging in to the wood, biting in to the heel of his palm the same way he tore at the inside of his lip.

“…Kabuto,” he barked distantly, eyes rolling shut in the way threads of his yukata began to cool.

“Yes?”

“Was it just me… or did that sound like a challenge…”

“…It was just you, Orochimaru sa—AH!” His head twisted as he was struck, knuckles freeing his glasses in to the crowds nearby, blood from his lip, and senses from his sockets that oozed from his nose.

Amusement was gone from him, features contorted in savage disappointment towards the young man. “You should know better… Everything is a challenge, with their kind.”

As Kabuto fumbled with himself to keep blood off of his coat and again free his kerchief, the snake slipped out of the booth and led himself out. Shortly behind him, his assistant was bowed and letting crimson flow in to the cotton, mourning for his lost prescription.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sasuke tossed the evil pants in to the sink, glad to be rid of them and heaving a sigh in his new freedom. As the shower ran up to temperature he peeled himself from the mesh, and the shirts and bangles joined the pile a moment later. His socks were slimy and filthy with the walk home, and he had taken them off before ever stepping foot in the house. They were in the trash now, and he was tempted to make the rest of the absurd outfit join it.

As he stared at his own miserable expression in the mirror, he could only wonder what others saw in it. A kohl-lined eye twitched its lashes at spotting the only thing interrupting his nakedness.

The leather, studded slab wrapped about his throat glinted in the lights of the vanity. Fingers lifted and roamed the top of it, letting his thumb snare in the ring that brushed his collar bone and tinkled. Eyes lidded heavily, reaching back to twist the buckle and let it fall. To think, all it took was an image and for a few moments, the world belonged to him. Craved him.

People were so infatuated with a face he personally considered boring. He didn’t have any discouraging curve in his nose, no oversized eyebrows, no great abnormality that could turn a person away from him. But he didn’t think there was anything particularly spectacular to look at. So what had all of those eyes been staring at?

Cells were still buzzing with the energy of being cheered at and watched, given the full attention that in some way, he was convinced he was owed.

His brother had given him so much in a matter of hours. Gave him what he had been wanting all thirteen years that he had breathed. And right after, disappeared without a trace, taking everything he had considered valuable with it.

All he had left were memories, of smells and touches. That, and the shirt his brother had left behind with the empowering stink of him.

Sasuke showered without a word or sound, or gesture out of place from what it took to be clean. When he was younger and had sought his satisfaction to be taken down the drain, his hand and the scalding spray had been good enough. Good enough to duplicate the same result.

He had thought about approaching one of the offered psychologists with the wonder of whether or not it was wrong to fanaticize about his family’s murderer, and not feel guilt nor grief for doing so.

He had concluded that if his brother had wanted it to be wrong, he wouldn’t be here now, toweling himself and not dwelling on it. Cotton stole moisture from his hair as he padded out of the steam-encased room and in to the breezy hall. By the time he made it in to his brother’s occupied room he was shivering and pulling himself in to the covers.

No matter how many nights he slept in this bed, with his smell in these pillows, it would never be his. He would only ever be keeping it warm for a person that was never coming back. If he touched himself now, used the towel drying out on the floor, and fell in to the world of presence that the man had trapped in this bed, it wouldn’t be the same.

Thirteen was old enough to be curious. And in his brother’s eyes, be taken. He ached to be able to touch himself like that and get the same empty climax he could months ago. To recreate anything close to the way his brother possessed him, but so long as he was conscious, he would always be out of that final loop that could bring him here.

Lately, he had stopped wearing his underwear. He was getting tired of having to clean them. Unable to get release in the palm of his hand had left him tossing and restless the first few weeks. Now, he was guaranteed release, but it always visited him in his sleep. When he was captured in a dreamy world of his own devices.

In his sleep he could hear the way Itachi purred in his ear and encouraged him every time a thrust sent his skull in to the headboard. Back then, he had complained about it, and every time…

“Then I can stop…” Itachi threatened to pull away, forcing his breath to calm as he loomed over the watery gaze of his long-limbed little plaything.

Pride swelled in him when tender white legs strained to pull his missing girth in, energy long lost in them with all sensation condensed in his breath-taut belly. “No! I…”

‘I can barely breathe’ he expected his little brother to whine, holding back from twisting his lips in delight.

He wasn’t done yet. Not anywhere near done… His lust had been building up since he was old enough to lust after anything. Since he was old enough to take every bit of pleasure he could out of kissing his brother’s brow when he went to sleep. Since he was old enough to enjoy how Sasuke’s hot summer days weren’t complete without a run in the sprinklers and a blueberry popsicle.

If he could never have this again, he was going to take every bit of it he could with him, and have to burn it in to his memory. The way his brother’s skin was covered in dents and dimples of teeth that would be gone by morning. That was fine.

If no one ever saw Sasuke like this, heady with sex-induced fever and boneless with more essence coating his belly and staining his hair than left in his body, he was fine with that…

If no one else ever felt him like this, his chest fluttering with the need for air and his insides quivering with muscles used too much in too little time, he was fine with that too…

If no one ever saw his little brother long for them like this, his life was complete.

And if no one ever heard the delicious way he shrieked when hypersensitive channels were punished with neglect, he could die happy.

“No,” he panted, chin reeling back with frustration that hips wouldn’t budge regardless of how much his wrapped legs tugged. Wrists strained against the silk tie that made his hands numb and his sweat-and-tear soaked, blistering cheek turn in to his shoulder. “I... don’t w-want you to stop-p.”

He would never grow tired of hearing that. Of watching the nubile body beg him and pull at him, pull life from him. It ached him that he couldn’t leave some mark on all this flustered white canvas. Give it a coating of crimson snowflakes to remember him by.

It saddened him that Sasuke had never seen snow.

Though winter never reached this far south in the country, he knew that his brother was going to be trapped in an unthaw able winter when this was all over. Eyes softened as he took in the way his little brother’s pink tongue attempted to bring life in to his cracked lips. His hips bucked, and he almost felt sorry for the way Sasuke nearly bit his tongue off in a broken moan. His voice couldn’t take much more of this.

It meant he still wasn’t done with his soft-spoken little brother. A small part of him had esteem in how his brother had endured the loving abuse thus far. Every time orgasm swept him he was a pathetic collection of shivers and noise, Itachi riding out the seizure of the smaller body patiently. While Sasuke recovered he would drag his fingers around the gape of his panting mouth and absorb himself in the way his little brother would say he wanted more with little nips and plaintive moans in to his fingerpads.

His hips rolled a few times more, bringing coherence in to his brother’s frayed senses and taking a firm grasp of his chin. Then he dragged the warmth of his tongue against a spatter of cream that remained hot and clear on his brother’s furnace of a cheek. Desperately a pair of dried lips tried to meet him and he pulled his head away, scolding with a silent glare and an affirming grip in his jaw.

“If you beg me,” he sighed against his brother’s lip, giving them much-needed wet by flicking his own parched tongue out against them. His own breath was short and scorching, but he had a steadiness that made the air returning to his own mouth in Sasuke’s panting erratic. “I’ll let your arms down…”

A pair of lust-fogged eyes pulled open to the shadow that had come over his desk. They were talking, but he wasn’t listening. Not with the little bud in his ear, hidden under the fall of hair at his temple and the cradle of his knuckles in to his cheekbone. Itachi waited until he heard the hitch of breath from the thrusting he used to wheedle an answer, before pushing the pause button. The mini-disk was in his other hand, on his arm rest.

Meetings and missions flew by when he had something good to listen to.

It had been years since he had heard that voice in person, and was certain it didn’t sound the same anymore. Would never sound the same again after being dragged over so much sex like that. He was sure that, in comparison, Sasuke would sound more dull and bored with life after such an experience.

That would be no surprise to him, since he was the same way.

“…You were saying something?”

“The boss doesn’t really like it when you sleep through all his speeches, yeah…”

Well of course they thought he was sleeping. A brow lifted, legs folding to obscure his arousal. He never got tired to listening to his favorite cd collection. The quality was poor, since he only had the tape recorder back then.

Hence why he had insisted on volume.

“I don’t see what that has to do with why you’re here.”

The blond tossed a file on to his desk after he released a snort. “Just open that, yeah.”

When he did, his face turned bitter. He remembered the chalky complexion of one of their old members, recognizing that this was his police file. …Which he had surfaced and removed from his hometown. His father had been investigating this very guy around the time that he made his move.

“What about him?” He flipped the folder shut and landed it back on the desk, leaning back in his chair.

“You didn’t know? Boss is pissed, yeah…”

Down in his ribcage (his gut bustling with needy warmth and too swelled to spare room right now) he felt he just might have done better to pay attention to today’s meeting.

Silence made his voice carry a triumphant tune. “You told the boss that’s the only copy you had, yeah?”

His jaw tensed, waiting for the punchline.

“One of our servers reported that his old lines were pinged last night. The same ones that were in the file you gave us, yeah...”

More silence, thick lashes narrowing around dangerously glowing eyes.

The blond coughed and grinned as he stared up to the ceiling. “…About an hour ago. Someone’s using your contacts, man. Police style, yeah… Boss is about ready to take a switch to you, yeah…”

He was fading out of his explanation so much, Itachi figured that the blond must be looking forward to it. Not taking the blame for it would be pointless. All he could do was work to figure out who would have his list…

But he couldn’t do that when… Eyes went up to the eyepatch. “You can leave now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off and turned for the door.

Like he could really think when the only thing on his mind was Sa—

He had not allowed himself to think of that name out loud since he had left.

Eyes widened. “You.”

Deidara came to a stop halfway across the room, looking back. “Yeah?”

“…Where was he, last? The snake freak.”

“Nn…?” His eye rolled up to think, thumb rubbing in to the corner of his own jaw. “He was down south last I heard… On a scouting job for that stupid little company he started up. You know, the cutsie one yeah?”

“Hn.” It said he was satisfied with the answer, sitting up and pulling the bud out of his ear. He gave a shoo of his hand and the other man continued on his way.

That answered it, then.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Another sharp gasp surfaced from the body laid out on the countertop as he shoved himself wildly in to it. It made him chuckle, voice raw as he soothed the nape of soft honey that his fist had been in for the last while.

“How is your nose?”

Below him, Kabuto clawed in to the metal of the counter, whimpering for composure. “It… it’s fine, Oro…!! AGH!” His voice rushed in high, determined to finish his sentence. “Orochimaru-sama!”

He loved how this boy always finished his sentences. It gave him something to work for, to shatter his collectiveness. Slight nails scaled pink ribbons in to pale neck, leaning over him and increasing his tempo as firm buttocks pushed against him in the new angle. His chin settled on a tense shoulder, admiring how soft the butter yellow shirt was.

“You know I didn’t… didn’t mean it, don’t you? Mm, I was so upset…” His jaw weakened as pleasure escalated, pouring his face in to a cotton shoulder blade that accommodated him with dry heaves. “You don’t usually say such… unintelligent things.”

“Y… yes, Orochimaru-s-aah-ma…” He hissed as nails found their way in to his hip and the grip in his hair fastened anew. His scalp would be tender tomorrow. “It… was a lapse, in j…judgeme-ent. I apologize.”

Snarling, dark hair swamped over his shoulder and scattered over the countertop, his voice vicious in the ear available to him. “He refused me. He has absolutely no idea who I am…!” Rage blurred out the corners of his vision as he drove himself in to the whole he had pounded in to with little more warning than a handful of the complementary bottle of lotion from the bathroom. “So fucking gorgeous.” Though he had noticed how his abusive thrusts were met, he knew it wasn’t entirely from pleasure. They had also gotten smoother after a while.

It suited his mood perfectly. He wasn’t in a very forgiving or malevolent one.

“He…! Uwak!” His head was ripped back by the scalp, cutting his voice off and straining his sporadic air as the slap of flesh grew more erratic.

“I don’t want to hear about that little prick! Not from you!”

Kabuto knew that, in the days when his master was still in the organization, he and the older of the Uchiha brothers had been at odds.

Odds was not quite the word for it.

Orochimaru wanted him. Wanted him more than anything. And not once did Itachi ever return his affections. He kept it to himself, but he was positive that a bit of his master’s sanity had fallen apart in the consistent neutrality his generous flirting was greeted with.

It did not escape him that Itachi knew, if he reciprocated, the snake charmer would give him the world. It also did not escape him that, so recently after the news’s display of his parents’ murder, he may have been detached as more than just his usual demeanor.

After two years of that behavior, however, and the Uchiha’s donation of that towards everything, Kabuto could only conclude that the young man was the sort to not enjoy being doted on.

Without even a first date, his master had been dumped. It was too late by then. His obsession had turned concrete.

That was the day Orochimaru had told him to grow his hair out and never again fucked him in the eye.

Climax permeated his insides, jaw tight as he took on the weight of his much older partner. Heavy breathing and the reek of sex hung in the air as he threaded his ideas together.

It was the day their sex had ceased to be something mutual, and fulfilling to him. His erection was still ground in to the wall of the counter.

Lost in his thoughts, it was a surprise to him when his forehead and splinted nose hit the counter with his hair being released, causing him to groan painfully as it hummed with the impact.

By now, the body had recovered and he pulled away, flaccid length falling free of the abused passage. His hand stayed on a strong hip, admiring the way blood-diluted cream stuck to the pit of his pet’s cheeks. Orochimaru gave a clap of the bare hip, pulling pants up from his own thighs.

This had helped clear his mind. “I’ve decided. I’m going to have him.”

“Of course you will, Orochimaru-sama,” coughed from Kabuto, still bent over and unwilling to make himself change position. “…I will get directions to his home.”

Gold eyes rolled shut with glee, teeth flashing. “Good boy. And… draw up a contract.”

As his master stalked away for a shower, Kabuto collected his glasses from arm’s reach, and set them on his nose.

Then he reached down to collect his pants, hopelessly scouring for his hair tie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The doorbell rang again. Bleary onyx eyes slid open, masked by another veil of black from his face’s position in he pillow. By now, Sasuke was very used to burying his nose in the invisible presence of his brother.

He was also used to the familiar stickiness on his legs and the crust in his sheets.

What… time was it? His brother’s room was on the darkside, so the time of day never reached him. Conveniantly, he only worked afternoons at the bakery, and his body clock never let him sleep in to the noon.

Chimes stabbed in to his ears again, causing him to growl and throw off the sheets. Whoever it was wasn’t going away. Hands dragged across the dark floor until they snared his towel, making the attempt to wipe off some of the mess that had dried in the night. When he got up he collected his pajama pants off the bedpost and slid in to the shortsleeve that matched it. Buttons kept his chest open as he made his way down the stairs.

All the way to the door he was rubbing at one of his wrists, attempting to ignore how real the dream had felt. Irritation etched in his brain as he closed his fingers on the doorslide, pulling it open just when the doorbell assaulted his ears again. His flat expression might have been more menacing to the pair of shadows on his doorstep if it wasn’t pitch dark outside.

Only the streetlamp a couple of houses down gave a source. Down the shabby, unmowed lawn he spotted a shining black thing that must have been their car. And one of them was smoking, if the orange ember floating in the void of their face was any indication.

“What?” he growled, eyes narrow to pre-empt the sting that would come upon them when his fingers triggered the porch light. His mood didn’t improve, lashes trapping around the venom that pooled in his gaze.

It took a second to recognize the shorter one, with a curtain of dark gold running his shoulders. He hadn’t thought it was that long back at the bar.

He also distinctly remembered that the guy’s nose was in order when he had left. That made his eyes center on the one that flicked ass of his cigarette, leaving his mouth free to grin and eyes to leer at…

…Sasuke had to restrain the urge to cover himself.

“Dressed to greet me, Uchiha-kun? Why, thank you.”

He also had to restrain the urge to vomit. The strength he pulled from himself did give him an edge in his voice. “What the hell are you doing here?” he tried again, teeth grating.

With a small cough, Orochimaru nudged at his assistant and he freed a folder from within his jacket, handing it to Sasuke.

“I came to the conclusion that you may not have been aware of what you were throwing away. You’re more than welcome to look that over. I’m in town until the end of the month.”

“Not. Interested.”

Kabuto carefully spoke up, still attached to the folder. “Then why did you get up on stage at all?”

Chuckling at how acutely aware his pet was of things, he took a step closer. Underfoot, his cigarette was snuffed, and more like a dragon smoke trickled out of his nostrils as he neared the boy’s disgusted cringe.

“Indeed. Why did you get up there at all, if not to be seen? Let me show you off.”

Sasuke’s head retracted, bile crawling up his throat as he felt eyes tracking down the exposed slate of his torso. He didn’t have an answer that he wanted them to hear.

From here, he could smell it. He knew that aroma, and at the whiff of it the snake’s senses buzzed. How was he to help it if he enjoyed the musk of young men?

“Uchiha-kun,” the blond insisted, gesturing the folder and snapping the serpent from his trance. “Your stubbornness won’t help you if you intend to take your talents seriously.”

“I don’t know about that. You’re here.”

He had to try not to smile lest he aggravate his nose. “True enough. But we’re potentially the only ones.”

Arms folded across his chest, conveniently hiding part of himself as he leaned in to his doorway. Through his nose he forced a breath, sleep-rumpled hair hanging in his face. “I’m gonna pass.”

Orochimaru was doing his best to not look offended. A shaky laugh permeated him. “You’re happier here, then? All by yourself…”

“Better than being the property of some mob-company.”

Crickets chirped, and a moth fluttered about the new light that the Uchiha had granted it. The air tensed, and it hobbled off.

“I’m afraid… I don’t know what you’re—“

“Is that where he ran off to?”

As much as he might otherwise enjoy being put on the spot by those demanding eyes, he could feel cold on the back of his mane and forced a smile. “Clever boy. But, I’m no longer affiliated with—“ These interruptions were starting to peeve him.

“I know. You took a plea deal.”

“So informed…”

Lenses shifted warily, but otherwise Kabuto had not budged. “He is the brother of the man that—“

“I know who he is, Kabuto. You can be silent now.” Eyes settled above the boy’s neck and stayed there this time, forcing a smile. “I’m impressed. Your brother came in to the organization with the promise that he was the only one left privy to that investigation.”

“I guess that’s what you get for trusting him. Can I go now?”

My… The little one was exceptionally hostile when it came to his brother. “…When I was there, with your aniki, he never once mentioned you…” There was a certain pleasure to be taken in watching the boy’s face twist. “Saa, maybe I can arrange a brotherly reunion…”

If it involved mounting, blood, swears, and all the passion this little Uchiha possessed, the rest of the world couldn’t matter. Restraining a giggle at the idea, his eyes rolled back and he chewed on the inside of his lip.

A jealous twinge of his brow surfaced, prying his gaze from his master and settling on the boy. They had only met in the last few hours, and already it seemed the delirium was more complete than in the case of the older one. He calmed through a breath, eyes falling to the extended folder.

“He’s the last person left of your direct family. That would mean something to see him again, wouldn’t it? At Orochimaru-sama’s permission, I would work with you to arrange that.” It was the best he could do. Sabotaging what he knew too little about would only throw him out of all good graces. He would be as alone as this boy here, who belonged to someone they knew nothing about.

At last, Sasuke took the folder, turning it open to reveal the contract inside.

He peeled himself from the doorway, and with his foot the door slid shut. A moment later the porch light died.

They hung there together in silence for a long time. Until Orochimaru giggled. “So, he really did do it…”

“It looks that way.”

“At last, I’ll be able to get rid of that frigid bitch.”