Another victim of writers' block. I was going to have Orochimaru save a little wolf cub from something to earn him the stalking love of papa!wolf!Sakumo.


It might not be evident from his oft sullen demeanor or the moon-paleness of his skin, but Orochimaru was a devout worshipper of the sun. Slow summer mornings were divine, when it was so pleasantly warm that he could sprawl out naked with his sheets to the side, basking in the direct sunlight shrone across his bed from the wide windows. Slow afternoons, he would take a book to his garden, where there was a wide high chair carved out of stone, and many evenings Jiraiya and Tsunade had found him curled up in the sun-heated seat with his snakes, a content smile on his face.

Cold weather makes Orochimaru sluggish. There was more of the snake in him than the slitted pupils of his golden eyes. Family lore held that their clan was found when a Great White Snake had fallen in love with the son of a feudal lord, giving up her immortality to be his wife after he had ran away with her.

The old growth woods between Orochimaru and his warm bed seem to stretch forever. Though it was now midday and what patches of sky he could glimpse above the tall canopy of red and gold leaves were bright blue, very little light reached the forest floor. He wasn't afraid of the dark or forest spirits said to dwell here (not when he was descended from a snake), but he hated the gray dimness that haunts the woods all times of the year except for early Spring, when the grounds would be a sea of blue and purple flowers.
If I had to write Sakumo and Orochimaru as Hades and Persephone:

A Little Time

In the Kingdom of the Cold, he who had lived under the hot sun and looked often up into its bright face, is close to blind. The land of the dead is a land of shadows that lacks substance, the only other solid being here was his captor.

Sakumo’s hands were hot, and his kisses were wet. Every gray morning when Orochimaru wakes in Sakumo’s bed, the world comes into clearer focus, he could see better the sublime nuances that had dragged the feet of Orpheus’s bride as she reluctantly followed him out of underworld.


I would go with a darker and rough around the edges Sakumo.

If I were to pick any Greek figure to go with Orochimaru, I would pick Medusa. But picture Medusa!Orochimaru, standing blindfolded and disarmed, with Sakumo or Jiraiya standing at his back, bending down to kiss his neck - even cursed, it's not impossible to love him.

Jiraiya was ordered to kill Orochimaru, but instead, blindfolds him and brings him back to his palace. He could not bear to take away Orochimaru's sight forever so he does not permanently blind him, but the inevitable accident happens and Jiraiya turns to stone. The lover's plight move a goddess to tears (I could not yet decide who), and the goddess brings the Jiraiya statute back to live, and switches Orochimaru's cursed eyes with that of a man-sized serpent, creating the first basilisk.
Behold! Below is a smut scene that has been haunting my brain since November, it's hot when I think about it, but translating a fantasy of sensations and feelings into text form is hard mode - I need to figure out if I want Sakumo's POV or Orochimaru's POV.

Feeling cold feels terrible, but snowfall can be so beautiful, picture Orochimaru being persuaded to watch the snowfall in his yard, while sitting in Sakumo's lap, getting all pliant and giving Sakumo ideas.

I don't know if this will be better with JiraOro, because Jiraiya is a perv, but I associate Sakumo with The North. Also, Sakumo is just so alpha.

Endlessly, drifts of snow floated down all around them, blending seamlessly into the white banks at the sides of the yard, and falling feather-like upon Orochimaru's dark hair and Sakumo's gray cloak. Held in Sakumo's lap within the cloak, Orochimaru shivers between the cold kisses of winter, sliding cold and wet down his neck, and the furnace warmth of Sakumo pressed against his back, the arm around his waist, and the large hand hot over his mouth. Sleepily, Orochimaru closes his eyes and licks at Sakumo's palm.

Sakumo chuckled, combing snowflakes from Orochimaru's hair, then he adjusted the sides of his cloak to wrap around his smaller lover, till only purple shadowed golden eyes were visible within the folds of the cloak. "Better?" Orochimaru answered with a slow nod, the movement not seen by Sakumo but felt against his chest.

Orochimaru's house is just steps behind them, and his bedroom is only a shunshin away, but having enjoyed the stark beauty of Orochimaru amidst the falling snow, Sakumo was determined to have Orochimaru enjoy the memory of having Sakumo hot inside him before they returned to the house.



December 2016

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