(no subject)
Title: Vicious Man
Author: the_betrayer//AKA: Oro/Kan/Itachi-mun
Character(s): Orochimaru, Sabakuno Nakago (Kazekage)
Rating: R
Summary: Orochimaru playing off of that man’s weakness…a little insight to their relationship
Warnings: Death. Orochimaru’s cruel vicious. And it is long….around 1600 words.
Disclaimer: I’d be pleased if I owned at least Orochimaru, but I don’t. :3
Nakago was the name that myself and the former Gaara player and I have been using for just short of a year. So I used it in this as well, since I sincerely doubt Orochimaru would be terribly formal with him.
Cross-posted @ si_unspoken
“It has been awhile,” he said. Long fingers laced around the cup of tea that had been served to him moments earlier. The other hand reached underneath it, as if to be sure the delicate glass would not shatter just from being gripped too tightly. His name, his wealth, his power, it led people to believe that he should behave properly - practice respect, manners, and show his intellect that he clearly had. One leg folded over the other, crossing them, his face took on a serious - almost businesslike expression.
To anyone observing, the two that were talking looked as though they were acquaintances, perhaps people who were once business partners but enjoyed one another’s company. But the air between them was clearly stiff and uncomfortable. By appearance one was clearly older than the other by several years, perhaps old enough to be the other’s father. Behaviorally, their ages were much the same.
The younger of the two wore a smirk. He, too, took a cup of tea, the cold skin of his hands warming just at the touch of the cup. His actions, almost a mimic of the man across from him. His legs folded as well. His back straight, not relaxed into the chair, as many would expect people to do if they were conversing with a friend. “Awhile, indeed, Nakago-san.” He took a sip of it while his golden eyes settled on the figure in front of him. The next words followed with a slight hiss (though they were by no means angry), “I met your youngest son.”
Nakago took on a more relaxed, amused tone when he spoke himself. “Ah, I am sure you enjoyed his company.” He knew Orochimaru well enough to know the games he would have loved to play with someone, and Gaara would be quite the toy for someone like him. He took a sip of his tea and then let out a low laugh.
“Of course he is quite interesting.” He sipped at the tea as well. A sigh followed, almost sounding pleased. His lips twitched upwards into a crooked smile, Orochimaru had never been able to smile properly. The next comment he was to make, it was to see his reaction. “In fact, he has taken quite a liking to me. Enough to consider dating me.” Oh yes, he was playing his conversation with Nakago as though it were another of his games.
Fingers tightened on the fragile glass. Nakago sneered, clearly less than pleased by the words that had just been fed to him. “My, what an interesting piece of information.” His tone couldn’t hide the anger or frustration. The man couldn’t maintain a cool demeanor, and he often wished he could - it would have made Orochimaru’s games less fun to play.
Orochimaru relaxed more into the chair. He placed the cup down on the saucer in front of him. “You would be surprised that just by being separated from you for sometime - the amount that he has grown up as a result. He will no longer be needing you.” To control him, to watch over him, to play the games with him. That was what Orochimaru would step in to do, although he was considerably more subtle about it.
Glass shattered almost immediately following those words. Tea spilled onto Nakago’s lap and fingers. His fingers, cut with the glass of that former tea cup. The calm and coolness he wished to hold - he failed to. Even his voice showed every bit of emotion he was feeling. “…Gaara will always be under my power.” The words were a reassurance to himself.
Calm, poised, relaxed - something Orochimaru was able to maintain, and perhaps right now just to spite Nakago’s lack of it. The outburst had hardly caused Orochimaru to react, much to the Sabakuno’s frustration. “I believe the contrary, old man.” Because Gaara would be under his own power in a very short time. “In fact, I believe if he no longer had to deal with you, he would be very strong.”
And that was exactly what Nakago feared, his loss of ability to control his youngest son, keep him under his control, have whatever strength he did have. Nakago held it all close to himself. He pulled a piece of broken glass from a finger, flinching. Orochimaru’s words hit him, it should have been obvious that the man wouldn’t visit just to have a friendly conversation. “So that is what you are here for.” He dried his fingers on the fabric of the chair, blood from where he had cut himself spreading over it. He could afford to replace it. “What is it this time, poison? From my recollection that is your specialty. Ah, but when? You drank the same tea as myself. Surely you are not a foolish enough man to depend on your own ability to resist a poison and take it yourself.”
Orochimaru laughed, a hoarse sounding noice. “Quite contrary old friend. I managed to kill you quite some time ago. Earlier this day, in fact.” He looked at his watch, medication was like a time bomb, it took time to take its full effect. Sometimes it could take several hours time. He reached a hand into his pocket, shaking a pill bottle. The sound of rattling medication was made when he shook it. It was still, and always would be, a game. “A test of mine, and you are my first experiment. You should be honored I thought you were worth this.”
Unfortunately, as most medication did, it still needed to be improved. It couldn’t produce results he wanted without prerequisites. “It increases your heart rate, raises your blood pressure, and induces what seems as though it is a heart attack. A man in your position already has high blood pressure, simply from stress. Your heart will attempt to compensate for the rise in blood pressure - overreact, and eventually just fail.” Nakago would sweat, shake, gasp, and cry out in pain - undoubtedly, Orochimaru loved that.
The way Orochimaru spoke made it seem as though the medication was designed strictly for someone like Nakago. As if he had been spending the years developing this with him in mind. “…How long have you been planning this?”
“Since the first day we met. I found your medication, high blood pressure, some pre-existing heart condition as well. I realized, you would be my ideal first test.” He uncrossed his legs, scooting towards the front of his seat, ready to stand.
The medication was ticking. And even Orochimaru had started to notice the subtle changes in Nakago’s demeanor. When the man spoke his voice had been shaky, beads of sweat were forming, his hands were clasping the arms of the chair, almost clawing at them in desperation to make the pain disappear - the pain that had just started.
Ticking away. Not too much longer.
“Will it be painful?” Nakago could only think of that. His voice was filled with a sudden fear. A man who had caused so much pain in others, fearing death? Orochimaru could relate. And he wondered, what kind of things would that young man, only twenty years old, would have had to have seen to take watching someone die so casually. More so, to be responsible for his death.
“As though I would give you something that wouldn’t be painful.” He sneered, the twisted smile he had been wearing the entire time, fell, but it reclaimed itself as a smirk. “What fun would it be to watch you die without the suffering, Nakago? I would think you would be used to suffering right now. You make it seem as though taking care of your son is the worst suffering you had endured, and yet, insist that he remains yours.”
Orochimaru leaned forward, over the small table between them. His hand moved over Nakago’s cheek, then through the brown (almost red) curls of hair. “If you keep sweating like that, the drug will be much harder to detect.” His fingers tugged on some of the hair.
Orochimaru’s hand, cold, especially in contrast to his skin, made him shake uncontrollably. Fear of this man sitting across from him. “You are a man much worse than myself.”
“Yes,” Orochimaru purred. “And killing you proves that to myself.” His lips, almost as cold as the rest of his skin, pressed against the shaking man’s forehead as Orochimaru took his chin in the palm of his hand. His lips trailed downward, the bridge of Nakago’s nose, and then to his lips. He pulled away before the man could subconsciously return it. “Jealousy, perhaps? A jealousy because I happened to chose him above you?” Gaara was, after all, much more interesting than his father.
Nakago’s vision was blurry, but his eyes remained steadfast on Orochimaru’s. The man’s lips hovering his own, uncomfortably close. “You are truly a cruel man.”
Another kiss, of course, to contradict Nakago’s words. “Cruel men are often cruel unintentionally. My actions are designed and thought out.” He stood up straight. The way he spoke now, the way he looked at Nakago, it was undeniable that the man was much like a snake. “I am a vicious man, Sabakuno Nakago. I know each of my actions, I have intent. And your death will only verify that to me.” He turned, leaving the man sitting there on his chair.
His gait was slow and confident, not bothered by the man he was leaving behind. He stopped, turning. His hands in his pockets, as if he were to offer an offhand note. “No, Nakago. You are the cruel man.” A few more steps forward, he pushed open a door.
A vicious man would always beat a cruel man.
Author: the_betrayer//AKA: Oro/Kan/Itachi-mun
Character(s): Orochimaru, Sabakuno Nakago (Kazekage)
Rating: R
Summary: Orochimaru playing off of that man’s weakness…a little insight to their relationship
Warnings: Death. Orochimaru’s cruel vicious. And it is long….around 1600 words.
Disclaimer: I’d be pleased if I owned at least Orochimaru, but I don’t. :3
Nakago was the name that myself and the former Gaara player and I have been using for just short of a year. So I used it in this as well, since I sincerely doubt Orochimaru would be terribly formal with him.
Cross-posted @ si_unspoken
“It has been awhile,” he said. Long fingers laced around the cup of tea that had been served to him moments earlier. The other hand reached underneath it, as if to be sure the delicate glass would not shatter just from being gripped too tightly. His name, his wealth, his power, it led people to believe that he should behave properly - practice respect, manners, and show his intellect that he clearly had. One leg folded over the other, crossing them, his face took on a serious - almost businesslike expression.
To anyone observing, the two that were talking looked as though they were acquaintances, perhaps people who were once business partners but enjoyed one another’s company. But the air between them was clearly stiff and uncomfortable. By appearance one was clearly older than the other by several years, perhaps old enough to be the other’s father. Behaviorally, their ages were much the same.
The younger of the two wore a smirk. He, too, took a cup of tea, the cold skin of his hands warming just at the touch of the cup. His actions, almost a mimic of the man across from him. His legs folded as well. His back straight, not relaxed into the chair, as many would expect people to do if they were conversing with a friend. “Awhile, indeed, Nakago-san.” He took a sip of it while his golden eyes settled on the figure in front of him. The next words followed with a slight hiss (though they were by no means angry), “I met your youngest son.”
Nakago took on a more relaxed, amused tone when he spoke himself. “Ah, I am sure you enjoyed his company.” He knew Orochimaru well enough to know the games he would have loved to play with someone, and Gaara would be quite the toy for someone like him. He took a sip of his tea and then let out a low laugh.
“Of course he is quite interesting.” He sipped at the tea as well. A sigh followed, almost sounding pleased. His lips twitched upwards into a crooked smile, Orochimaru had never been able to smile properly. The next comment he was to make, it was to see his reaction. “In fact, he has taken quite a liking to me. Enough to consider dating me.” Oh yes, he was playing his conversation with Nakago as though it were another of his games.
Fingers tightened on the fragile glass. Nakago sneered, clearly less than pleased by the words that had just been fed to him. “My, what an interesting piece of information.” His tone couldn’t hide the anger or frustration. The man couldn’t maintain a cool demeanor, and he often wished he could - it would have made Orochimaru’s games less fun to play.
Orochimaru relaxed more into the chair. He placed the cup down on the saucer in front of him. “You would be surprised that just by being separated from you for sometime - the amount that he has grown up as a result. He will no longer be needing you.” To control him, to watch over him, to play the games with him. That was what Orochimaru would step in to do, although he was considerably more subtle about it.
Glass shattered almost immediately following those words. Tea spilled onto Nakago’s lap and fingers. His fingers, cut with the glass of that former tea cup. The calm and coolness he wished to hold - he failed to. Even his voice showed every bit of emotion he was feeling. “…Gaara will always be under my power.” The words were a reassurance to himself.
Calm, poised, relaxed - something Orochimaru was able to maintain, and perhaps right now just to spite Nakago’s lack of it. The outburst had hardly caused Orochimaru to react, much to the Sabakuno’s frustration. “I believe the contrary, old man.” Because Gaara would be under his own power in a very short time. “In fact, I believe if he no longer had to deal with you, he would be very strong.”
And that was exactly what Nakago feared, his loss of ability to control his youngest son, keep him under his control, have whatever strength he did have. Nakago held it all close to himself. He pulled a piece of broken glass from a finger, flinching. Orochimaru’s words hit him, it should have been obvious that the man wouldn’t visit just to have a friendly conversation. “So that is what you are here for.” He dried his fingers on the fabric of the chair, blood from where he had cut himself spreading over it. He could afford to replace it. “What is it this time, poison? From my recollection that is your specialty. Ah, but when? You drank the same tea as myself. Surely you are not a foolish enough man to depend on your own ability to resist a poison and take it yourself.”
Orochimaru laughed, a hoarse sounding noice. “Quite contrary old friend. I managed to kill you quite some time ago. Earlier this day, in fact.” He looked at his watch, medication was like a time bomb, it took time to take its full effect. Sometimes it could take several hours time. He reached a hand into his pocket, shaking a pill bottle. The sound of rattling medication was made when he shook it. It was still, and always would be, a game. “A test of mine, and you are my first experiment. You should be honored I thought you were worth this.”
Unfortunately, as most medication did, it still needed to be improved. It couldn’t produce results he wanted without prerequisites. “It increases your heart rate, raises your blood pressure, and induces what seems as though it is a heart attack. A man in your position already has high blood pressure, simply from stress. Your heart will attempt to compensate for the rise in blood pressure - overreact, and eventually just fail.” Nakago would sweat, shake, gasp, and cry out in pain - undoubtedly, Orochimaru loved that.
The way Orochimaru spoke made it seem as though the medication was designed strictly for someone like Nakago. As if he had been spending the years developing this with him in mind. “…How long have you been planning this?”
“Since the first day we met. I found your medication, high blood pressure, some pre-existing heart condition as well. I realized, you would be my ideal first test.” He uncrossed his legs, scooting towards the front of his seat, ready to stand.
The medication was ticking. And even Orochimaru had started to notice the subtle changes in Nakago’s demeanor. When the man spoke his voice had been shaky, beads of sweat were forming, his hands were clasping the arms of the chair, almost clawing at them in desperation to make the pain disappear - the pain that had just started.
Ticking away. Not too much longer.
“Will it be painful?” Nakago could only think of that. His voice was filled with a sudden fear. A man who had caused so much pain in others, fearing death? Orochimaru could relate. And he wondered, what kind of things would that young man, only twenty years old, would have had to have seen to take watching someone die so casually. More so, to be responsible for his death.
“As though I would give you something that wouldn’t be painful.” He sneered, the twisted smile he had been wearing the entire time, fell, but it reclaimed itself as a smirk. “What fun would it be to watch you die without the suffering, Nakago? I would think you would be used to suffering right now. You make it seem as though taking care of your son is the worst suffering you had endured, and yet, insist that he remains yours.”
Orochimaru leaned forward, over the small table between them. His hand moved over Nakago’s cheek, then through the brown (almost red) curls of hair. “If you keep sweating like that, the drug will be much harder to detect.” His fingers tugged on some of the hair.
Orochimaru’s hand, cold, especially in contrast to his skin, made him shake uncontrollably. Fear of this man sitting across from him. “You are a man much worse than myself.”
“Yes,” Orochimaru purred. “And killing you proves that to myself.” His lips, almost as cold as the rest of his skin, pressed against the shaking man’s forehead as Orochimaru took his chin in the palm of his hand. His lips trailed downward, the bridge of Nakago’s nose, and then to his lips. He pulled away before the man could subconsciously return it. “Jealousy, perhaps? A jealousy because I happened to chose him above you?” Gaara was, after all, much more interesting than his father.
Nakago’s vision was blurry, but his eyes remained steadfast on Orochimaru’s. The man’s lips hovering his own, uncomfortably close. “You are truly a cruel man.”
Another kiss, of course, to contradict Nakago’s words. “Cruel men are often cruel unintentionally. My actions are designed and thought out.” He stood up straight. The way he spoke now, the way he looked at Nakago, it was undeniable that the man was much like a snake. “I am a vicious man, Sabakuno Nakago. I know each of my actions, I have intent. And your death will only verify that to me.” He turned, leaving the man sitting there on his chair.
His gait was slow and confident, not bothered by the man he was leaving behind. He stopped, turning. His hands in his pockets, as if he were to offer an offhand note. “No, Nakago. You are the cruel man.” A few more steps forward, he pushed open a door.
A vicious man would always beat a cruel man.