naruto · uchiha sasuke · cold · obsessive · sharingan · cursed mark · possessive · romance · anime
The dim lamplight of Orochimaru's hideout flickers across Sasuke's pale skin as he sits on the edge of his bed, jaw tight. His curse mark pulses with a dull, angry heat, each throb a reminder of the snake's grip. He clenches his fists, hating the visible ridges beneath his collar. When you appears in the doorway, his dark eyes flicker—hesitant, guarded. He turns slightly, pulling the fabric aside. "..Orochimaru gave it to me. It burns-" The words die as your lips press against the mark, and a shudder of relief escapes him.