Genre: smutty smut and Orochimaru being a child molesting snake pervert like always
Rating: nothing too explicit. I'd give it a PG-13 for innuendo.
Summary: It's Kimimaro's thirteenth birthday and Orochimaru asks him what he wants for a present.
“Kimimaro-kun, when is your birthday?”
Caught off guard by the question, Kimimaro looked up from where he knelt as his master’s feet, studying a scroll of complicated jutsu.
Usually Orochimaru-sama was content to let him read in silence in those brief moments between the training that he offered and Kabuto’s tiring medical examinations in which he tried to unlock the secret of Kimimaro’s regenerating bones.
But a question from his master must be answered.
“I do not know, Orochimaru-sama. It was never acknowledged by my guardians,” Kimimaro replied, wondering at the significance of the question.
Did one of Orochimaru’s forbidden jutsu require the knowledge of his date of birth? If so, it would be unlikely that he could learn it, which would be a shame. Kimimaro hated disappointing his master.
Orochimaru did not look disappointed, however. In fact, he looked almost…amused. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and Kimimaro shivered because that look usually meant that Kimimaro would shortly experience either a lot of pain or a lot of pleasure.
“No, I guess they wouldn’t have, would they,” Orochimaru mused, tapping his long fingers against the arm of his chair. “Well then, Kimimaro-kun, let us make today your new birthday. Would you like that?”
Kimimaro wasn’t sure was there was to like about a birthday. It seemed to be just like any other day, really. But Orochimaru-sama was smiling and Kimimaro knew he had to answer carefully.
“I’d like that very much, Orochimaru-sama,” Kimimaro said with a polite nod of his head.
Orochimaru’s smile grew wider and one bone-white hand lifted to weave itself through Kimimaro’s hair, coming down to cup the boy’s rapidly warming cheek.
“And what would you like as a present, Kimimaro-kun?” Orochimaru murmured, leaning in close so that his warm breath ghosted over the shell of Kimimaro’s ear. “You look to be about thirteen now. That’s practically all grown-up, isn’t it? Such a landmark occasion deserves a gift. I don’t have any cake, of course, and Kabuto is a horrible cook but…there must be something you want for your birthday. Something I can give you to show you just how special I think you are.”
Kimimaro set aside the scroll he was holding and turned fully into Orochimaru’s touch. No one had ever wanted to touch him before Orochimaru came and got him. They seemed afraid of him, afraid of his power and the bones shifting beneath his skin. But Orochimaru touched him without thought, without hesitation, as often as he could. It amazed and frightened Kimimaro sometimes, because he knew he would do anything to keep those hands on his body, that smile of approval all to himself.
“My master is pleased with me,” Kimimaro replied, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks as Orochimaru slowly stroked the side of his face. “That is the only gift I require.”
Now Orochimaru was pulling Kimimaro closer, until the boy was practically sitting in his lap, perched on the edge of the chair between Orochimaru’s spread knees. Kimimaro clutched a handful of his master’s robe for balance and heard the other man laugh softly at the childish action.
“So easy to satisfy,” Orochimaru whispered. “Is that truly all that you want, Kimimaro? To please me?”
“Y-yes, Orochimaru-sama,” Kimimaro stuttered as he felt fingers loosen the tie on his robes and a long tongue extend to lick at the sweat breaking out along his collarbone. Orochimaru-sama loved to touch him, but never like this before. It thrilled Kimimaro to know that he was considered worthy of this much attention from his master.
Kimimaro’s robe was tugged open and dropped to the floor. Orochimaru’s hand wandered over the pale expanse of flesh that was revealed before him, pressing, fascinated, against the hard ridges of bone covered by a thin layer of unmarked skin. Then his arms wrapped around Kimimaro’s waist until a hand found and traced the curse mark at the base of his spine, sharp nails breaking through the skin and drawing a red circle in blood around it.
Immediately, the mark burned and itched and Kimimaro cried out, squirming against Orochimaru’s chest as he pressed closer. Laughing, Orochimaru brought their hips together and shifted, and then Kimimaro felt a different kind of burn.
Orochimaru waited patiently for Kimimaro to get his breath back before leaning down to whisper in his ear.
“This is more a gift for me, Kimimaro-kun. But if you truly want it, I can show you a way to please me best.”
Kimimaro felt slightly dizzy as he gripped the folds of Orochimaru’s robe tightly in his hands and tried to still his hips from rubbing up against his master again in order to regain that tantalizing feeling that had set sparks off behind his eyes.
He nodded shakily. “I-I want to please you master. Teach me, I beg you.”
“No need to beg,” Orochimaru said kindly, letting his fingers run once again through Kimimaro’s hair. “I’ll give you what you want. Since today’s your birthday…”
Orochimaru suckled at Kimimaro’s neck and shoulders and Kimimaro rejoiced at the red markings that would turn to purplish bruises in time. He was being marked all over, all over his body. Orochimaru-sama was claiming him, wanted to claim him, wanted him.
As Kimimaro was slowly lowered to the cool stone floor, and Orochimaru’s hair brushed against his forehead, he smiled.
This would be the best birthday ever.