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You've never gotten used to the fact that there's a breeze in caves. So when you pull off a glove to caress the prize held securely between your thighs, and feel moving air tickling the hairs on the back of your hand, you nearly pull into Kamui, anticipating an attack.
But all is still. Right. It's just the fucking cave breeze.
"You're pretty placid now that I've got you pinned," you tell him, voice low, deep, rumbling. Before the cave-in you would've had to push your voice pretty far down to talk this way. Funnily enough, something about pushing yourself through grueling exercise while choking on rock dust for a month made it easier to sound like you inhale smoke for a living.
He laughs. It sounds like coughing at first, which you'd pretty much be obliged to treat as a feint, since you aren't putting any pressure on his lungs. But no; it bubbles up into laughter, and his smile spreads across his face like Zetsu in the ground or in your body; you can feel it, you swear.
"You're more muscular than you look, Madara."
It gets your hackles up, makes you squeeze your thighs tighter around his waist, and he wheezes his mirth, sitting partway up on one elbow. You slam him back down against the rock floor of the cave with a shove on his chest, and his laughter gets quicker, louder, higher. He sounds almost like a fox. It's creepy.
"You shut your smug mouth--"
He coughs, like a fish flopping on a riverbank, and it only barely interrupts the laughter. He manages to choke it back for long enough to make fun of you, though. Of course. He's just like Kakashi, except Kakashi never laughed and Kakashi wasn't insane and Kakashi was never, ever interested in anything you were doing. Ever.
"Are you going to do anything with your advantage, Madara, or was this just pointless posturing?"
And your fingers clench into a fist in the front of his robe. He's way too smug for where you've got him, so maybe you should do something with your position. He clearly wants it, as much as he can want anything right now; there's pain in his laughter that you'd have to be a fool not to hear, and it seems he's looking to add to it.
Who are you to say no?
And you already have one glove off.
Your bare fingers find his neck in the folds of that stupid robe and he abruptly quiets, laughter spilling away into little puddles of giggling, still shaking his body, still pressing his throat into your hand. He chokes on it, and it's beautiful. You press, then, just to maintain the euphoria. His mouth opens in a gasp. His eyes open wide and thrilled.
You lean down, putting your mouth right to his ear.
"Everything about where you are now is luck."
A pattern of choked gasping that matches the cadence of his earlier laughter. You don't let up. He's beginning to squirm under you.
"You're just a body full of nothing that managed to scrape together some blackmail, you aren't a real player in this game--"
A different sound. You check his face; there's a crack there now, something breaking in his eyes. And that's interesting.
"Ah," you breathe, letting up on his throat; there's the sob you hoped for. He's shaking apart beneath you now, gasping for air to fill his lungs, lifting a hand full of green to his neck--
You hear yourself breathe in sharply. Next thing you know, you're pinning his wrists on each side of his head, and the green fizzles out as he goes limp in submission, eyes unfocusing, only one of them fixed on you now.
"You didn't have to stop," he rasps.
Your eyes narrow at him, but it communicates nothing; he can't see them through the eyeholes in your mask.
...Green. Green in his hand, in her hand taking your eye, green everywhere, suffusing every corner of your vision and then cutting out, but you can still feel it, can still feel it in your eye socket, the last caring touch you ever received, the last time anybody loved you.
You're so tired of not being enough of a person to have a face.
Your mask goes into Kamui. His eyes go wide now, both snapped to your face. You refuse to feel self-conscious, to wonder what he thinks. It doesn't matter if he sees you; he already knows you aren't Madara. You wonder if he'll see what the Uchiha saw; the features of your outclan father overruling the fact of the womb you were born from.
He chuckles, raspy and dead, dead in the air like a fish floating on the surface, it's the stillest sound you've ever heard him make.
"So you are an Uchiha," he says, evidently quite amused to discover it, and you feel your jaw clench. You never were any good at keeping your emotions off your face, and with the masks that Madara had you rotate through, you never needed to learn.
"Shut the fuck up."
He laughs at you, and keeps laughing until you let one wrist free to slap him across the face. Then he cackles, gasping for air between peals of laughter more urgently than when you choked him.
"You sure have the temper for it," he says, still managing to lay silk across the surface of his voice despite the gravel you've put there with your hands on his throat. It tears as he laughs through the sentence, but it's still there. Ugh, you fucking hate him.
"And you're nobody," you retort. He pulls a face, and it takes you a moment to identify it as exaggerated, overwrought hurt.
"To say such a thing to your partner," he says, pouting out his lips-- and then he gets a different look on his face, chagrined, like he was just copying someone else. "Well, it doesn't matter to you who I am, does it. And I may have scales, but I'm still warm-blooded for now."
You bare your teeth at him and take his robe into Kamui instead of fucking around with getting it off of him, and suddenly you have the snake to contend with. It wraps around your waist, and you get its head pinned to your side with an elbow as Kabuto's eyes roll back and his chest rises with the way he's arching his back.
"Oh," he gasps. "Good, I thought you'd never get anywhere. Is all of your body half and half like that medical miracle you apparently call a face?"
"Do the curtains match the drapes?" you retort, and he cackles again. This time you release the snake and his other wrist to lean your weight on his throat with both hands, and he makes the sweetest sound for you, half whimper, half squeak. His hands come to your elbows and hold on, not even holding on firmly, not tugging, not trying to stop you, and you sigh out your surprise. "Oh, you're practically docile with someone on top of you, hm?"
His throat works under your thumbs, and you push them against it just to hear it thunk. His lips part obscenely, tongue running across his teeth, tracing every sharp point of them with a methodical laziness that makes you shiver. You let up on his throat.
You don't want to push him too far, after all.
One of his hands comes to his throat again, and this time, he hesitates, eyeing you. You nod.
Green. It makes him look paler, more sickly than he already does.
"Yes," he says after a few moments. The green light fades. You think back, reviewing your words, and as you're wondering if he's really confirming that he likes to be pinned down, he continues. "The carpets do match the drapes."
"Shut up," you grunt.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
You raise your eyebrows at him, and his smile turns crooked-- of course he's still smiling, this fucking insane little creep. What's his deal?
"You have me at such a disadvantage," he wheedles; just for that, you Kamui away the garment you can feel against the sides of your feet. "Hey-- wow. Skin contact?"
You roll your eyes and put a hand back on his throat without any weight behind it; it's just a warning. You'd rather he not need it.
"Oh, please," he sighs, tilting his head backwards. "I just want-- hrgk."
"I don't really want to hear it," you tell him calmly. His mouth hangs open, and his breath is laboured; you've left him space to breathe this time, because you are aware that healing the same place too many times in a row stops fixing it so well. Rin made that clear enough when you had the bright idea to practice the same fire technique until it stopped burning your fingertips. Unfortunately, those two fingertips are no longer numb from the incomplete healing; your new hand has full feeling, so you don't even have that much from Rin anymore.
"...Madara?"
Oh, hearing him speak through that throat... Your eyes shut, and you let yourself shudder.
"Mm," you say, opening your eyes. His are fixed on your face. They're wide, and his mouth is hanging open again-- he really does seem to love this. "Yes, Kabuto?"
He's got that freaked-out look to him now. Good. He's too comfortable around you by far.
"I can't heal forever."
You're so tempted to call his bluff. You're pretty sure it is a bluff, that he just doesn't want to heal himself forever.
He's one of Orochimaru's little freaks, after all. If he had to, he could probably carry on with Amaterasu eating at his back just as fast as he heals.
"Of course," you say instead. "But I do like to see you pinned this way. You can handle a bit of pressure, can't you?"
His eyes go faraway for a moment, and then snap back to you with the application of a touch more weight to his throat.
"I-- yes. Probably. You'll have to let up when I come or I'll lose my focus."
You tuck that little tidbit away with a raised eyebrow; it's a bit shocking to hear. You were certain he wouldn't admit he liked it until you had his hard dick in your hand.
"Cute," you tell him, and he grins, toothy and sweet. There's something sinister to it, even with the sweetness; like ants in sugar. Infested. He's a bag full of parasites sitting in your pantry.
But you have neither sugar nor neighbors.
You give him back his throat, and he groans as you slide your hands down his chest to the place his snake emerges. Your touch sends shivers through his body.
"Nn-- Madara," he gasps, eyes wild, grin still wide. "So forward. Why don't you get comfortable?"
You slap him again, this time with the back of your hand, and he breathes in sharply, laughter soft this time, not grating, not echoing. You'll tolerate it.
"Your snake likes me," you tell him. "Doesn't seem to care if I'm undressed or not."
"Oh?"
And the snake unwraps from your waist and ducks into your robe. You lunge, slamming the side of your hand to his throat in a quick chop. He chokes, and puts up his hands for protection. The snake whips out to show its fangs, and you grab it just behind the head-- he lets you grab it just behind the head, and that's what makes you stop, what makes you refrain from crushing it in your hand.
"Okay," he gasps. "Okay, got it, I got it."
The snake isn't even hissing, has shut its mouth. You let go.
"Yeah?" you prompt, and Kabuto nods rapidly, hands pressed to his throat now.
"Can-- can I--"
"Go ahead."
And it is such a rush, to have him ask you. To watch the flare of green against his skin only once you've given permission.
"You-- you can-- truly you can fuck me," he gasps, green still pressed to his throat, and you feel your own throat work as you swallow.
"Truly?" you echo.
The green fades.
"Yes, is that what you want to hear? You want--"
"That'll do," you tell him sweetly, in your voice for Tobi, and the look on his face transforms all at once from desperately attentive to disturbed. He still seems into it, though; ha. "Will you be a good boy for Tobi?"
He shudders, but nods, and you hear him swallow.
"Oh, Tobi is just thrilled to hear that," you coo, and he makes a strangled sound. The snake curls into a strike pose and opens its mouth threateningly. "You're cute when you're freaked out, has anyone told you that before, or is Tobi the first?"
You let your head tilt. If you're honest with yourself, though, this is less about fucking with him, and more about not being Madara right now.
He nods. You feel the little smirk fall off your face.
"Awww, what a smart person that must have been!" you tell him. "Tobi wishes he could meet that person! What would Tobi hear about you, pretty thing?"
He opens his mouth, and the snake hisses. His mouth shuts audibly, and he shakes his head.
"Oh, you don't want to say?" You pout, and he shivers, hands reaching for you; you actually think it might be for comfort this time. "Or you don't know what Tobi would hear?"
He nods, and whimpers sweetly for you as you swat his hands away and climb backwards over the snake.
"That's a shame," you say, pout deepening as you kneel between his legs and send his underwear into Kamui; his cock nearly hits you in the face, and you laugh breathlessly. It's unfortunately not well lit enough to tell for sure if he was serious about the colour of his pubic hair. "You-- hahaha, you must not've known that person very well, hmm? Tobi wonders who it was..."
He groans late, still catching up to everything you've said and done, and you don't give him a lot of time, already pulling lube directly from the inside of a bottle in your dimension and onto your fingers to poke at him. He lets out a keening sound, and sobs once.
"Oh, did Tobi hurt Kabuto's feelings?"
"Kabuto hurt Kabuto's feelings," he snaps, and you giggle, pressing a finger inside him. He's naked on the floor of the cave now, with no recourse; the things you could-- no. But... Well. It can be fun to think about. He's desperate enough to be easy, now.
"You're very cute," you tell him. "Breathe for Tobi, okay?"
"Nngh," he says. "Mada--"
You curl your finger, jabbing further in, and he yelps, hips bucking.
"You're going to piss me off, if you aren't careful," you tell him, back to the low gravel of your Madara voice, and he chokes on his breath.
"Okay," he gasps. "I-- I'll be careful, Tobi."
"Good boy!" you say brightly. "Tobi is so happy to hear that!"
"Ugh."
"You'll be a good boy for Tobi?"
He tips his head back, away from your pout, and you snap the fingers of your free hand.
"Yes," he grits out, looking back down at you, and you press a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the base of his dick as a reward. He grunts softly.
"See? When you're good for Tobi, he takes care of you. People don't do that for you very often, do they."
He glares, glasses slipping down his nose so he doesn't have to lift his head as much to look through them at you. Hm, that wasn't gravity; chakra, then.
"Tobi is a rude boy," he grumbles, and you click your tongue at him.
"No, Tobi is a good boy."
He opens his mouth to retort, so you lift his dick to get your mouth on the tip. He's staring now, his own mouth hanging open as his hips twitch under you. You take him into your mouth and flatten your tongue against him, pressing upwards so he hits the roof of your mouth.
"Oh--"
You pull off to smirk at him.
"What does Kabuto think, hm? Tobi is so curious."
"The roof of your mouth is a different texture on one side," he says, and you pinch his ass. Not bothering to be nice about it; you thought you showed him how little his analysis of your body amuses you before you even got between his legs. He hisses softly, but shuts up about it.
"Just hush and let Tobi take care of you," you pout. "Quit wasting Tobi's time."
He rolls his eyes, but gestures for you to continue.
And so you do.
He's very cute with fingers inside him, a lot less put together; not that he was very put together to start with. He's wriggly. You have to pin his hips down several times.
That's alright. He can learn, if he lets you do this again.
"Tobi is so glad to see Kabuto enjoying himself," you say brightly, and he actually flinches, one leg kicking out; you grab it and set it back where it was, bending the knee for him.
"You're a nuisance, Tobi," he says, as you wipe your fingers on his thigh and-- this isn't going to work.
Well.
"Don't freak out," you tell him, and that's all the warning he gets before you take him into Kamui with you. He flinches, and starts to scramble away across the futon you land on, but you lunge after him and get a hand on his ankle in time to bring him back out into the cave-- including the futon that you're both on now. "There, see? Kabuto can trust Tobi."
He scoffs, and you take the time to arrange him conveniently for your use, yanking him back all the way onto the futon and holding his legs open.
"Oooh," he says, pushing up on his elbows and looking you up and down in interest. You feel abruptly shaky, like you always felt when Rin would take your hand and tell you that your wide knuckles meant you would grow up to have broad shoulders. She said that to you several times.
"Lay back down for Tobi," you tell him, and he lays back down with a roll of his eyes, but keeps his head lifted to watch you.
"Are you finally going to--"
"Head back," you tell him sternly, back to the Madara voice, and he makes a petulant face as he obeys. "Good boy."
You still don't give him much chance to see as you undo the front of your robe and line up; you'd take the time to lube up, but he's been an ass this entire time and you don't really feel like he deserves it. He's already slicked up inside, anyway.
He gasps as you press into him, breath hitching in several places. Good. You like ripping the silk he covers every word with. He's acting like a virgin, but you'd bet it's just been a long time; his master died a while ago. He's whimpering, reaching for you, the snake has come to tuck itself under your arm. He's warm inside, and that's about all you can tell; you're actually feeling lucky that you even got hard enough to fuck him. Probably because he's so easy even with all his bullshit and mouthing off. You've found that you like when people are easy.
And then he clenches, and you can tell more, you can tell he's tight, you can tell he's wet with lube, and that the texture of his scales does not continue on the inside. You choose not to hold back; you just shove in deeper while he's still clenching down, and that makes him cry out. One of his legs kicks, the same one as last time, his left leg. Cute. You guess he feels alright too. It's more about the visuals and the way someone sounds for you these days, though.
"Ohh," he sighs, strangled. "Oh-- just-- please, a moment."
"Of course," you murmur, because you're feeling generous now that you're inside him. And he really did sound like it hurt.
"Hm," he mumbles, fingers gripping at the worn cotton lining of the futon. "Feels symmetrical."
"It's a miracle you still have a tongue," you snap, and you wonder for a moment why your voice feels so creaky. Oh. You weren't putting on a voice just then. Well, now that he's heard you speak this way, there isn't much point to hiding anymore, moving forwards. And he's looking at you like he wants you to eat him alive.
"Wow, I think one of your vocal folds might be--"
He shuts up at the look you give him. You're starting to wonder if he's just karma for all the annoyance you've inflicted on others.
"I think your vocal folds might end up in another dimension, soon, if you don't watch it."
"What was that, any--"
You shut him up with your hips; if he's mouthing off, he's caught his breath enough to take you properly. He loses it again pretty quickly once you start moving, which is cute, but not enough to make you stop. He's arching up away from the futon, head turning rapidly from side to side as his snake ducks back out of your armpit and loops around the back of your neck, trying to pull you down closer to him. He's being very cute for you, so you indulge him, letting his hips go to hold yourself up over him instead. The open front of your robes fall to either side of his body, and as he arches his back, his chest meets yours. He's colder than you are even through your double layer of cotton turtleneck over tank top.
"Oh," he sighs, and you actually almost take a kunai out of Kamui to drive into his neck if he shares another fucking observation. "You're so warm, get closer, please, can I touch you?"
You grumble and adjust the angle of his hips so you can still fuck him easily in this new arrangement. You don't get any closer.
"Over the clothes only."
His face lights up, and-- well. That's fine. You'd rather be making him wish he was never born, but this isn't too horrible of an alternative to flat-out torture. His hands running down your chest make your skin crawl, but you grit your teeth and bear it.
"Aw," he says, and he has the gall to sound disappointed. "Two layers? I can't feel anything--"
"Greedy whore," you snap, "how long before you forget how to speak?"
He scoffs, nose wrinkling, and you-- just-- fuck it, he needs to shut up. You grab his tongue. Notably, it is slick with saliva; he can slip it back out of your grip anytime he wants.
"You want to keep this, yes?"
His eyes go wide behind the glasses and he clenches even harder. His throat works. He makes a sound that you decide is probably terrified and turned on, because as he makes it, his hole starts pulsing around you, and his hips buck closer to yours.
"Nnghk--"
"Yeah?"
He whimpers, high and reedy, still clenching down on you in a rhythm. Hm. You look down.
His cock is twitching, spilling in lazy stripes up his stomach.
"Oh," you gush. "Oh, you're a power trip ripe for the taking, I see why he must have kept you around."
"Ghh--"
You fuck harder to shut him up, and it has the opposite effect as you set off ripples of oversensitivity all throughout his body.
"Hush. You're so noisy."
His head lifts, and his teeth clamp down onto your hand, sharp and dripping.
"...Aw."
He responds with a warble, eyes narrowing in a glare that's starting to get a bit weepy. And you keep fucking him, even as he squirms, even as he bites down harder and his tongue tries to move.
"Beautifully pathetic, look at you."
His gold eyes seem darker in the limited light, and it almost makes him look threatening.
He turns his face to the side, letting go of your hand, and you let his tongue slip out of your grip instead of following. He coughs weakly, and it turns into laughter.
"You're relentless," he sighs, wrapping his arms around himself, rubbing his shoulders as if he's cold. "Ah--"
And he keeps making those sweet gasping sounds with each thrust, suppressing and swallowing what he can. You see brown in his dark gold eyes and the panicked heat there melts you; you take a blanket out of Kamui and toss it on his face.
"You look chilly," you tell him gruffly, grunting low and soft as you lift one of his legs to hold onto. He makes a face as he grabs the folded up blanket and starts to unfold it, and then his other leg is lifting too, trying to sneak into your arms. Well. If he wants to be grabbed by both legs, you certainly aren't going to refuse. What a weirdo. You set that leg over the same shoulder as the other one, because you'd have to be insane to let any part of him surround your neck. Underneath your cloak, the snake inches slowly around the back of your waist like he thinks you wont notice, but since it isn't squeezing tight enough to make it harder to fuck him, you let it be. He's squealing now, letting out a pathetic noise with every thrust, and it's kind of getting to you. He's already softened partway, and he's wrapped himself pathetically in the blanket, and he's staring at you with an open mouth and big, teary eyes, just gasping with every movement and showing you how overwhelmed he is. He's actually fucking gorgeous like this. Your breath takes on a shuddery quality as you stare.
"Are you--" and he swallows, and tries to compose himself. He doesn't get very far in between thrusts, and each time you slide into him, it resets his face back to that wrecked expression. "I don't-- I can't--"
"Can't what," you demand, breathless, unable to even guess what he'll say; you're too distracted by him, by the way he looks and sounds. If you had known he could get this way when he approached you-- well, no, you wouldn't have agreed any easier. But you do wish you knew sooner, because you've been itching to take him down a peg for days now. You had no idea he would take it so well.
"Think," he gasps, voice strangled like you're pressing on his throat. "Oh fuck, please I can't-- I can't, be done soon, fucking finish--"
"Say please," you croon, making your voice sweet and sticky, and he shudders beneath you, producing a pathetic little whimper-wail and clutching the edges of his blanket. Cute.
"Please?" he tries, too frazzled to sound sincere; instead he just sounds confused.
"Tell me what you want from me," you clarify, and he swallows a petulant whine, but the pout still emerges on his face as you bend his legs a little closer to his chest and find a spot that makes his eyes roll back. His noises get less intelligible, and his hands start grabbing wherever he can reach, including at you.
"Oh-- oh please, please just-- please finish, please come, I can't-- it's too much-- unh--"
His pleas settle over you like you're the one under the blanket, making you feel warm and secure, and you adjust your grip on his body to fuck him harder, make him lose his words. You're getting closer yourself, but you'll lose that progress towards orgasm if you let him gain any ground in coherency, and you really aren't in the mood to edge. Something about his desperation makes you feel the urgency.
Which is pretty much a fancy justification for tossing the bottom edge of the blanket up to grab his dick and stroke it.
"Nn-- ah-- ngh--"
Yeah, you doubt he's going to be asking you for anything. He's so pathetic it starts being cute when he scrabbles at your hand with blunt nails, trying to push you away, and shakes his head with eyes squeezed shut, tears shining on his cheeks as he makes the most embarrassing sounds you've ever had the pleasure of hearing from someone so dangerous.
"Beg me," you tell him breathlessly, stilling your hand to just pet the tip with your thumb, and his noise turns into frantic hyperventilation, gasping for air-- oh he's crying, all sobby and squirmy and weak, body shaken by his breath, lungs only halfway committed to their job. "Beg to come, baby, let me hear it."
He sobs, and shakes, and shakes his head.
"I don't want to come," he protests, and that almost gets you, but he's able to use his words again, so it just makes you notice how close you are.
"But Tobi ruined it for you last time," you explain with a pout. "Let Tobi make it up to you, hm?"
You make your eyes wide and sad, and he squeezes his own shut with a curse.
"Tobi-- I-- I can't, Tobi--"
"Are you sure?"
He pauses, then, and you get to see his eyes go wide, get to watch him react to your smirk; the way he shakes his head and tries to get his hands on yours before you start moving again, the way he fails. And bless him, it's like he's trying to make it good for you, because his voice rises up in a wailing chant:
"No no no no no no--" and you humour him, pausing your thrusts, letting go of his cock. He jolts, and then-- "Fuck-- no, don't stop, don't stop you fucking idiot--" and he's yours, you have him wrapped tight around your finger, cussing you out for doing what he asked, bending to your desires, admitting you know what he needs.
"You're gonna come, aren't you," you whisper, voice rough and satisfied, as you start fucking him again, and he nods, eyes squeezing shut, one hand grabbing the blanket and the other nudging at your hand, trying to get you to move again.
"Yes--"
"Then come," you tell him, watching his face as you let him have what he wants, watching the way his eyelids flutter and his jaw drops. "Come for a second time on my cock, you pretty thing, so needy, hm? Are you Tobi's good boy?"
And he actually nods between whimpers, holding you tighter with the snake and thrashing in your arms, arching his back and making so much pretty noise, like unh and ngh and please.
And his eyes open, and his voice comes out urgent, and he says,
"You too, Tobi, please just-- nnh-- just fucking come, I can't handle any--"
He sobs, and thrashes, and then comes, and you breathe his name, marvelling at the way his cock twitches, the way he's not even fully hard and he's still coming, because you've made it happen, because you demanded it. He's so fucking hot inside, too, nice and tight and wet, and so you don't bother holding back your own orgasm; he's earned it.
Especially with the relieved tone his noises take on as he realises you're coming inside him. The way his eyes find yours and seem to thank you for it. The way his hand settles on your wrist, fully relaxed, just along for the ride. The way he takes your continued stroking gracefully, allowing it to wrack his body and twist him into unrecognisable shapes, the way he endures.
"Fuck. Look at you."
His mouth gets a little crooked, and then it's a smirk.
You feel an impending sense of doom.
"I could say the same to you," he rasps, with a voice that's been wrecked in its harbour.
The snake around your waist slips out from under your shirt.
In the fraction of a second that you waste reflecting how stupid he is to taunt you while his dick is in your hand, he manages to put ten feet of distance between the two of you.
He pushes up his glasses in a move that you now know is fully to taunt you; you watched him move them with chakra just minutes ago.
"Are you going to give back my clothes, or shall I fashion something out of this blanket?"
You look at the blanket and realise it's the one you took from Rin's pack after you watched her die.
"Leave the blanket," you say, voice hard. You throw Kabuto's clothing directly at his face.
"And my underwear?"
You think the worst part of this is probably that he still manages to look smug and superior with his underwear hanging off of one horn.
"You're the worst person I've ever met," you tell him, arms crossed as you watch him pull up the underwear, only lingering because he hasn't dropped the blanket yet. Fuck. Now you'll have to wash it. Fuck.
"I highly doubt that," he says mildly, stepping into his pants, and you can tell by the way he smiles at you that he saw the conceding shift of your hips. He doesn't know who you're remembering, but he does know that person is worse than him.
"I fucking hate you," you spit. "Get out of my sight."
He adjusts his glasses one last time and drapes his cloak over his arm as he turns on his heel, leaving Rin's blanket in a heap on the ground just like her body.
You hope Yakushi Kabuto fucking dies so you won't have to waste the chakra on his dream. What an ass.