The word had old meanings, drudged up long ghosted feelings and memories, of hallways at night when he still smelled fresh of Konoha after Orochimaru had taken him in. How many giant containment tubes had he walked past? How many eyes, sky-high on drugs, stared at him through green liquids? How many times had the screams woken him up in the middle of the night, and how many times had he seen people removing bodies while he looked the other way?
How many had he saved in the end?
"I don't like experiments," he muttered, listening to the sound of Madara's voice and trying to gauge where he was. Close. Sasuke's hand went to the bed, trying to pretend to adjust his seating, realizing too late that the kunai was gone; Madara had taken it, hadn't he? Dammit.
Did this have to do with his eyes? His heritage? Was this a test with his sight? Was it--
--a kiss?
What--what the--
Shock. Shock was a weird thing, how tight it made his body, how it sucked out his breath, how it made his thoughts stop. There were little things he noticed, that earthy smell mixed with oils and metals, how half the lips felt different than the rest, textures that felt so off in ways he didn't understand. Sasuke tried to picture it in his mind, piece it together, but even that thought was replaced with the weirdness of the scenario.
The kunai-- What sort of experiment was he doing!?
Hands found the other's clothes and pushed him back as he panted softly, as if he had just been in a fight. Flushed. He was flushed and unsure, caught between anger and disbelief. Who--why--
"Did you fall?" he whispered, because the only kisses he had ever received were from falling, accidents in the making. But no, no, it couldn't happen to Madara in the way that it had to Naruto; he was too good for that.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-08-10 04:43 am (UTC)The word had old meanings, drudged up long ghosted feelings and memories, of hallways at night when he still smelled fresh of Konoha after Orochimaru had taken him in. How many giant containment tubes had he walked past? How many eyes, sky-high on drugs, stared at him through green liquids? How many times had the screams woken him up in the middle of the night, and how many times had he seen people removing bodies while he looked the other way?
How many had he saved in the end?
"I don't like experiments," he muttered, listening to the sound of Madara's voice and trying to gauge where he was. Close. Sasuke's hand went to the bed, trying to pretend to adjust his seating, realizing too late that the kunai was gone; Madara had taken it, hadn't he? Dammit.
Did this have to do with his eyes? His heritage? Was this a test with his sight? Was it--
--a kiss?
What--what the--
Shock. Shock was a weird thing, how tight it made his body, how it sucked out his breath, how it made his thoughts stop. There were little things he noticed, that earthy smell mixed with oils and metals, how half the lips felt different than the rest, textures that felt so off in ways he didn't understand. Sasuke tried to picture it in his mind, piece it together, but even that thought was replaced with the weirdness of the scenario.
The kunai-- What sort of experiment was he doing!?
Hands found the other's clothes and pushed him back as he panted softly, as if he had just been in a fight. Flushed. He was flushed and unsure, caught between anger and disbelief. Who--why--
"Did you fall?" he whispered, because the only kisses he had ever received were from falling, accidents in the making. But no, no, it couldn't happen to Madara in the way that it had to Naruto; he was too good for that.
"What the hell was that?"