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Sasori isn’t a patient man.
Thus, when Deidara takes two minutes too long to decide where they should spend the rare free night that sheer luck has bestowed upon them, he clicks his tongue, and barks at him to hurry up.
“Oh come on, my man, you can’t expect me to make a good decision under pressure, un” Deidara tries to justify his hesitation, but Sasori is having none of it, as per usual. They are opposites in every regard and aspect, the only quality both of them proudly possess is stubbornness.
“In the end, you make bad decisions, no matter how much time I give you” he grumbles in Hiruko’s deep voice, and Deidara is ready to pop that hatch off himself, and drag his beautiful man out of there.
He enjoys getting told off a tad more if Sasori uses his real voice, that chimes like velvet in his ears.
They’ve come a long way. From strangers with art philosophies that couldn’t exist in the same room without clashing about what true art is, to comrades, and later, friends.
Then, on a fateful evening, Deidara kissed him.
And it ruined everything, destroyed what they had, so something better could emerge from the ashes.
They both agree that they aren’t a couple, or boyfriends, or whatever.
No label is fit to describe what they feel for each other. They know it, and that’s enough.
“Okay then, my dear man, let’s go to that inn with the onsen, un. We could do with some relaxation” Deidara makes up his mind, and as it’s to be expected, Sasori isn’t happy about it.
“You silly brat, water, especially hot water, ruins the polish and rots the wood. It’s hardly relaxing to slowly decay.”
“No, no, you got it all wrong. Your relaxation will be the peace and quiet you get while I soak in the baths, hn”
Sasori can’t lie, that indeed sounds promising. Then, the brat ruffles Hiruko’s hair, an act that would get anyone else killed.
He swings his scorpion tail at Deidara half-heartedly, both of them well aware that it’s a warning, more than a real attack.
“Fine” Sasori grumbles from behind the string of metal blades “let’s go, then.”
They walk through the town, earning strange and wary looks from the locals. The red clouds upon black is a symbol well known and feared, their fame predates their arrival already, those numerous acts of terror made sure of it.
No one dares to interfere with Akatsuki business, and their stroll to the inn is completely seamless.
The elderly lady behind the counter takes one glance at their attire, and immediately offers them the room with the balcony. She doesn’t ask for names, and keeps her eyes cast down from the second they step over the threshold until the artist duo climbs the stairs.
Their room is spacious and bright, but sparsely furnished. Two futons, a desk, one of the legs broken, and a low table at the centre. It is a palace compared to cold cave floors and sleeping in the underbush.
They have never taken separate rooms; Sasori doesn’t sleep, he usually tinkers with his puppets while Deidara snoozes away the strains of travelling. Lately, he would have taken offence if he wasn’t drifting off to the clanking of wooden limbs.
As Deidara promised, he immediately sheds his cloak, and throws it atop one of the futons. Sasori’s brow twitches at his messiness, a visceral reaction he couldn’t quite weed out despite claiming to be devoid of emotion. He doesn’t let himself get riled up, rather, he prepares to coop up at the desk, and work on his latest masterpiece.
Deidara is a bit disappointed that attention doesn’t linger on his frame as he relieves himself of his clothes, and slips into one of the bathrobes prepared for them in advance.
With one last glance at the hutched form of his partner, he sets out for the hot spring to unwind properly and relax after the long journey. Sasori, despite everything, dictates a harsh pace on their travels, always condemning Deidara for being too slow or even needing a break to sleep or eat. A slumber of six full hours sounds like a foreign luxury, and his stomach flutters from the mere thought of real food that isn’t military pills.
Sasori tinkers away, letting his partner run amok the premises. He can take care of himself with minor casualties. For the next few hours, Deidara isn’t his problem, no one to nag him about one pathetic human need or another. He knows Deidara can’t help his own disgusting mortality, though. While he doesn’t condone the awful perspective his partner considers art, he’s come to accept that their opinions differ, and only in particularly bad days does he try to convince him about his own superior truth.
Sasori is eternal, everlasting, never to rot. He made sure of this, recreated himself as art .
Deidara is also planning to become his art , but while Sasori’s perspective carried the promise of life, his is a harbinger of death. Detesting the weight of forever, he would rather live a short but impactful life than drag out the inevitable fleeting nature of existence, like a certain someone .
Despite all their differences, he and Sasori work well together, both in battle, and missions.
And the sex is phenomenal .
Even though both lack experience in the field of romance, they quickly attuned to one another, as if magnets would pull them together. Their lovemaking is like wildfire, intense, searing, and destructive, and they love it, the effect they have on each other.
Deidara returns to their room wrapped in nothing but a towel, a jug of sake in his hand. The curious looks he gets on the corridor doesn’t faze him the slightest, marching with determination.
He slams the door open, and Sasori is immediately reminded why he prefers caves to houses.
“Hey my man, un” he greets, but receives no answer. Sasori pinches the bridge of his nose, as if it would make a difference. So much for his quiet hours. Has so much time passed already, or did Deidara come back early just to bother him?
“Missed me, hn?” the brat has the gall to continue, and Sasori wants to smack the cockiness out of him. Perhaps he should.
The third kazekage’s cold, wooden fingers caress his arm as he looms over his back like a shield, but Sasori cannot properly feel them anyway, not in this form. Maybe he doesn’t even want to. Even though Sandaime is his ultimate work, inanimate wood is not as exthrilliating to touch as a body that still has a beating heart within.
He hears Deidara’s footsteps approaching, and sets the screwdriver down.
Alongside lifeless hands, fingers made of flesh and blood, and very much alive join in, slowly trailing up his arms, and carefully dipping under his cloak. Before him, no living being has touched Sasori for fifteen years.
It still feels alien sometimes, but Sasori’s mostly gotten used to it by now, Deidara made sure of that. He loves feeling his man up, caressing and tasting. Consequently, he grasps every opportunity he can catch him out of Hiruko, going as far as provoking him out of his confines.
Deidara sets the sake down on the table, next to a half-finished puppet leg, and Sasori eyes the jug with disdain.
“Where did you get that?” he demands, his fingers itching to get rid of the foreign object in his workspace. Like a cat, he just wants to knock it off at the edge of the desk.
“It was a complimentary gift from our host, un” Deidara shrugs, as his touches get bolder. His palm sneaks further down Sasori’s chest, while his other hand quietly peels away the Kazekage’s fingers, replacing them with his own.
Sasori would never allow anyone else to treat his masterpiece like this, but Deidara is different. In a warped sense, he is art himself, and Sasori lets his puppet’s limbs fall back as Deidara slowly embraces him from behind.
But the blond gets greedy.
He burrows his face in Sasori’s neck, inhaling his scent of sandalwood and smoke, a remnant of Deidara’s latest art piece. Sasori’s wooden body soaks up the aroma of explosions, and he loves that he could smell his own art on his man.
“Can you take a small break, un?” he murmurs into Sasori’s varnished skin, and the sultry tone immediately tips his partner off that it wouldn’t just be a little break.
“Not now, don’t you have something else to do?” Sasori snaps, but there’s no bite to it. If Deidara didn’t know him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the way he tips his body back, or cranes his neck ever so slightly so that he could have more access.
“But what I want to do is right here, un” Deidara purrs, his fingertips reaching Sasori’s heart chamber, caressing the only part of his body that’s actually alive and able to feel.
Discovering his sweet spot that Sasori considered a great weakness is a result of empirical research, and Deidara is proud of that one, basking in the fact that he is even allowed to touch it.
Sasori gasps and leans more into Deidara’s chest, but then catches himself. He shall not give in that easily, he should be the one seducing his prey, tempting and fully in control.
Yet it is Deidara pulling the strings as he opens up Sasori’s cloak, exposing his alabaster chest, and the cylindrical heart at the left.
“Brat, get off” Sasori makes a feeble attempt to stop the vortex ready to drag him under, but his partner doesn’t relent, instead, his hands slide lower, over the cable in his stomach, while his fingers rub his heart.
“I’m trying, un” Deidara is defiant, cheeky, sailing on dangerous waters. It’s pretty obvious he means something more sexual by his words, but he gets promptly ignored. Sasori’s head is now on his shoulder, ethereal eyes bearing into his soul as he tries to reason with Deidara again.
“I should be working” he declares, the edge missing from his tone. Sasori would never admit it, but a few gentle touches soften him up immediately.
“You could work after, un” Deidara prompts, and when the mouth on his hand licks Sasori’s core, he shivers.
It’s the only part of his body he still has nerves, and every sensation is amplified, like electricity cackling through his system. His walls are crumbling, and he knows Deidara notices it as well, from the way Sasori tenses up, then melts into his arm as he stimulates his core.
“Come on, hn” Deidara whispers in his ear, the words like a curse, condemning Sasori to this fate “do that jutsu, un.”
Sasori hesitates, but as teeth scrape his neck slowly, even though he can’t actually feel it, he knows Deidara got him where he wanted him.
With a loud sigh, he pushes the chair back with such vehemence that Deidara has to jump back if he prefers to keep his toes.
“Fine, if it means you’ll stop bothering me” Sasori snaps, but he isn’t fooling anyone. As he turns, his eyes already drink in Deidara’s semi nude form, settling on the towel around his pelvis.
He is attractive, and Sasori appreciates that despite his humanity; he’d make a nice puppet, though. But then, he’d stop being the Deidara he is now, and Sasori detests that.
With a quick motion, he does the hand signs, and under Deidara’s watchful gaze, his skin changes.
Colour seeps into the porcelain complexion as the wood turns to flesh.
He spent months perfecting this jutsu, until he found a way to restore his humanity that he oh so despises. Only so that he could have sex with Deidara.
If he stopped for a second to think about it, he’d be disgusted with his own self. Thus, he doesn’t.
Eager hands immediately fly to his chest and grab at his nape, pulling him in, closer, until he feels, actually feels a pair of lips on his own.
Deidara’s kiss is demanding, his hand tugging at Sasori’s hair while his tongue seeks out his partners. He’s testing his boundaries, prodding, always going a little farther until Sasori snaps and tears the control back from his grasp.
His hands slide past Sasori’s waistband and he knows he shouldn’t, that it may be too much, just enough to topple Sasori over, but he still does it anyway, because he wants to. His impulse control is short, and so is his fuse, but no man is more impatient than Sasori.
Deidara barely has time to ghost his fingers over his penis, Sasori’s hand is already in his hair, pulling the golden mane back until Deidara can’t help but break their kiss.
But that isn’t enough for him.
He doesn’t stop until Deidara has to learn backwards, then fall to his knees in front of him.
“Know your place” Sasori tuts, but instead of an apology, he gets a savage grin as a response. Whatever .
He still controls him.
Sasori untangles his fingers from the soft, golden mane, and with one swift motion, pulls his pants down. He steps out of the tumbling fabric, whilst the cable in his stomach whirs to life. Like a snake, it crawls towards Deidara, and hooks under the towel covering him.
Deidara gulps as the cold metal slides against his thigh, and in a mere second, the only piece of fabric is lifted from his body.
He isn’t given time to process what’s happening, as Sasori is looming over him right away, his pelvis in level with Deidara’s face.
“You want it?” he teases, gripping the base of his erection. Currently, he isn’t human nor puppet, but something in between, a shell of a man.
Deidara nods, saliva pooling in his mouth from the mere sight of his partner. Letting the akatsuki cloak fall off his shoulders, Sasori takes one more step. He hooks his thumb into Deidara’s mouth, then pulls his lips apart. He teases with his finger first, tracing the curve of his lower lip, then pushes his thumb inside, and Deidara lets him explore.
Then Sasori withdraws, ready to replace his finger with something bigger. He drags his cock along Deidara’s face, smearing his cheek with precum, before resting the tip on his lips.
The head sits heavy on Deidara’s tongue, and he is already leaning forward, but an iron fist in his hair stops him.
He stares up at Sasori, trying to decipher his expression. The cruel flash of his eyes let Deidara know that he is in one of those moods, a sadistic streak.
Sasori loves to see him whither, thrives on it, the control Deidara allows him to exert over his whole body and soul, a privilege reserved for him only.
Despite the fact that Sasori’s irises twinkle with malicious affection, Deidara pushes his luck, and begins to suck on the tip, gently, lovingly, to rile Sasori up even further. He’s playing with fire, but he doesn’t mind getting a little burned sometimes. Like Icarus flying too close to the sun, Deidara also doesn't know when to stop.
“You’re desperate” Sasori states matter of factly, yanking Deidara back by his mane once again. He is doing it on purpose, and Sasori deals with him accordingly.
There’s a sharp pain in his scalp, but Deidara is too affected to care. His arousal is strained between his thighs, leaking over the floor. He tries to keep it concealed so as not to fuel Sasori’s ego further, but his partner sees right through him.
Sasori stands above him like an ancient deity, his gaze scrutinising his kneeling form, as if Deidara was a sinner waiting to be punished.
“Get on with it, yeah” he is still pushing his luck. Yet, for someone who doesn’t like to keep people waiting, Sasori is sure taking his sweet time with him every single occasion.
“Tongue out” Deidara obeys the command immediately and without any hesitation, the switch already flipped in his mind. If anyone saw them like this, he’d never let himself live down the shame. Alas, there is something about submitting to his man that stirs his insides, even if he refuses to admit it even to himself.
He is solely doing it for Sasori’s pleasure.
Right?
Slowly, tentatively, Sasori drags the underside of his dick across Deidara’s tongue. As soon as he reaches the tip, Sasori slams his entire penis into the hot mouth.
Deidara gags around the sudden, foreign intrusion, and his first instinctual move is to pull back.
But Sasori’s hand is already there, keeping him in place, trapping him between his legs.
Deidara’s lips stretch around the cock as his nose brushes against Sasori’s smooth abdomen. Saliva dribbles to the floor between Sasori’s feet, and it’s just fuel to the fire. He pushes Deidara down harder, until he’s completely buried to the hilt. He lets a gasp escape past his throat, a feeble reward for his partner’s efforts.
Sasori knows Deidara can take it, but every time he likes to push him a bit further, just merely past his limit to see him squirm in his hold.
Deidara tries to say something that sounds awfully like Sasori’s name, but only a muffled plea comes out.
“I can’t understand” Sasori pretends, smirking down. Deidara’s eyes are brimming with tears, but he quickly blinks them away “don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Deidara grunts, then tries to inhale. His lungs are burning up, and he is desperate for air.
“You wanted it” Sasori reminds him, stroking Deidara’s strained jaw with such meticulous care that his partner even forgets about the dick in his throat for a second.
The cable moves again, revitalised by Sasori’s chakra. It snakes around Deidara’s thigh, then abdomen, circling his chest, and finally, looping around his neck. The ridge stops just under his jugular, a promise. Purple venom drips to Deidara’s skin, and even though he’s gathered some immunity under the years, it would still kill him if it got into his bloodstream.
No matter how much Sasori allows himself to experience emotions he previously deemed restricting and unnecessary, at the back of his mind, he’s still paranoid.
Only able to let himself fully surrender to their love when he has full control, Sasori is always prepared to strike if somehow Deidara turned on him.
He doesn’t believe that he would, the brat is too devoted to him to even think about it, still, for him, having a peace of mind is unmatched. It lets him experience depths he otherwise wouldn’t let himself explore.
And Deidara loves the thrill of it. Only a blink away from death, Sasori is his merciless justicar who could end his life on a whim.
Could, but wouldn’t.
When Sasori notices his eyes beginning to turn hazy, he releases the back of his head. Deidara sputters, coughs, then sucks in a large breath, just when the cable tightens around his throat. It turns into a hiccup, and by the time Deidara would have a chance to protest, Sasori is already pushing his cock back into the hotness of his mouth, muffling him again.
He is once again held there until his body threatens with the possibility of passing out, when Sasori oh so generously lets him go for a second. Deidara inhales a shaky breath, stabilising himself, because Sasori is back at it again.
Gripping the underside of his jaw, he guides him back to his erection, weeping saliva and precum, and slides his cock down Deidara’s throat with such ease that one could easily believe he is made for this.
Sasori keeps his hand there, feeling the bulge slide in and out of his partner’s throat, a sick satisfaction pulling his lips to a lopsided smile.
“So pretty” he coos, his thumb caressing Deidara’s face affectionately while he moves his hips back, then slams forward.
Deidara’s heart flutters, and warped romantic ideals keep popping in his mind as Sasori fucks his face. Despite the mess on his chin, and tear stained eyes, he feels pretty too, staring up at Sasori with lustful admiration.
Sasori gratifies his efforts with small moans and hums, though he’d never admit out loud that Deidara is making him feel good. But, he knows it without words, the way Sasori’s brows slightly furrow every time he bottoms out, and his mouth just barely parts when Deidara decides to add tongue to the mix. After a particularly harsh thrust leaves stars in his vision, he hollows his cheeks some more. Sasori’s nails dig into his scalp as he keeps him in place, as if literally tangling a metal cable around his frame wouldn’t be enough to restrain him.
Not that Deidara wants to move, he’s perfectly content where he is, pleasuring his man, his paranoid man, who lacks the understanding that Deidara would do the same without any need to exert control over him.
He doesn’t know how many minutes have passed since Sasori forced him to his knees, time goes by differently when they’re intimate, like it opens a portal to another dimension they love to frequent.
They actually have the same level of libido, Sasori just lives in blissful denial about his own needs, even going as far as to declare that he’s art , he has no needs whatsoever .
Sasori keeps eye contact as he pulls out of Deidara’s mouth, then grabbing him by the back of his head, guides his partners to his balls instead.
Deidara licks and sucks at the skin, grateful for the opportunity to actually breathe for a second. Sasori’s cock falls against his face, like a divine artifact, staining his skin further.
Sasori loves having him between his legs, on his knees, enjoying the rare bout of silence that comes with it. Deidara is only quiet if his mouth is full, either with food or dick. Besides, Sasori can taunt him freely, without any repercussions, a payback for all the hours spent annoying him.
The last rays of the evening sun catch on Deidara’s hair, painting it in specks of gold, matching Sasori’s turquoise nails, and complementing his ring. In a sudden spur of bold recklessness, Deidara pulls his hand forward, trailing it up his partner’s thigh.
Sasori quirks an eyebrow at him.
“You’re really courageous today, brat” he states, his eyes tracing the invading hand, but not stopping it. Deidara laps at his balls apologetically, a little bit faster, but that isn’t enough anymore. Sasori’s carnal hunger flares up, and just when Deidara’s fingers reach his ass, he grabs the base of his dick, and with one swift and merciless motion, guides it back into Deidara’s mouth. He hits the back of his throat again, but Deidara doesn’t gag this time, no, he stares up at Sasori with a cocky gaze, one that screams he’s a menace.
The tongue on his hand finds Sasori’s hole, pulling a soft moan from his partner as soon as the wet appendage touches his rim, drawing slow circles around, like a vulture stalking their prey.
Sasori rewards him with a gasp, throwing his head back momentarily before he regains his control. He’s supposed to be the stoic puppet master, yet he lets himself be dragged on strings as soon as Deidara uses any of his tongues. Unfortunately for Sasori, he has an ample supply of those, and he isn’t afraid to use them, risking Sasori’s fury in the process. In his humble opinion, it’s well worth it.
The loss of power is what really triggers Sasori as his leftover humane instincts take over his carefully engineered mind.
The rope tightens around Deidara’s neck again, and Sasori turns feral, penetrating his mouth at a brutal pace. Yet, the smug glint in his eyes is effaceable, no matter how Sasori would manhandle him.
The cold metal of the poisoned cable tip presses against Deidara’s throat more firmly, not yet breaking the skin, but administering a dreadful possibility of death looming above him.
Instead of doing what any person with even a semblance of common sense would do, Deidara doubles down, the tongue on his hand slowly entering Sasori’s tightly squeezed hole. The walls of his rectum clench around the intrusion, the only sign of his immense pleasure Sasori cannot conceal.
He has to avenge it somehow, to make Deidara squirm just like he is struggling to keep his moans confined.
Damn that brat.
The cable moves and slices at such a speed that by the time Deidara notices it, the extension of Sasori’s will is pointing at his throat again.
Then, his chest gurgles.
He did fucking not…
Deidara cannot accuse nor demand, as his mouth is still stretched open by a plummeting, pulsating cock. He seeks answers in Sasori’s face, eyes wide and scouting. Just his confusion is enough to get Sasori off, but the overly large tongue at his backside sure helps.
He feels the buildup in his stomach, a feeling he’s just getting used to again. The double stimulation sure does it’s trick, alongside Deidara’s sheer willingness to let Sasori use his throat like a puppet. Only that he’s better.
The tongue on his chest laps at the metal cable in confusion. The biggest of the mouths on Deidara’s body, it’s almost like it has a mind of its own. No wonder they usually keep it sealed shut.
“This is what you get for your insolence” Sasori pants, his voice like honey dripping in Deidara’s ears. The amplified pleasure is doing numbers on him, especially since he’s gotten more rough with his thrusts, and it’s ready to backfire. Well, fire.
Another sloppy slam of his hips leaves him a moaning mess, unable to control his own reactions. Shit.
Strings of spit connect Deidara’s lips to his penis every time Sasori withdraws, mixed with the deep coal eyeliner his partner meticulously applies everyday.
His eyes are watery and red, lips swollen from all the abuse, the bulge straining against his throat with every slap of Sasori’s hips.
For someone who strives for perfection and steer clear of rot, Sasori finds Deidara artistic in this ruined state.
He’s more affected, he thinks, and that is his undoing. The moment his brain registers his presumed moral high ground, a dam inside him is broken, and the pleasure floods his systems.
He cannot stop the reckoning, the last shaky, sloppy thrust of his hips that seals his fate. Yanking Deidara back, he orgasms in small spurts, coating his partner’s face and tongue in his semen.
Deidara doesn’t dare to move until Sasori’s cock stops twitching, and his eyes manage to focus again. He wants his man to see the cum on his tongue before he swallows, to maybe snatch a compliment or two for his efforts.
Their union is unmatched, their chemistry the recipe for fireworks. Deidara loves to give and Sasori graciously takes everything he has to offer.
Sasori’s gaze lands on the cum staining his face, and his lips pull into a smug smirk that carries a hint of cruelty.
“That looks good on you” he coos, releasing the fistful of golden hair he’s been grasping like a lifeline. Deidara’s scalp is eternally thankful for the release of tension, and he finally swallows, the cum tasting slightly bitter in his mouth.
He still doesn’t pull his hand back from Sasori’s hole, he’ll keep it there as long as he can get away with it.
Honestly, he knows his man enough that if he upsets him now, he may leave Deidara hanging for hours, sometimes even days. Another point he could exert in his addicting power play.
“So pretty” Sasori praises, his thumb sliding up Deidara’s face. Dipping it into his own cum, he smears it even more across his cheek, before reaching his mouth and feeding it to him. Deidara cleans the digit thoroughly, but from the corner of his eyes, he sees Sasori move. His partner’s hand snakes around his wrist, and pulls Deidara’s arm away from him.
So much for tonight, he thinks bitterly, as Sasori withdraws his thumb. At least he got his man off, and that in itself is a glorious thing. His instincts scream at him to just fight off the cable, and ravish Sasori, but he knows better.
The fluids feel cool on his face, but he won’t wipe off the godless proof of their debauchery just yet.
Sasori caresses the tongue on his chest like a pet, and Deidara shivers from the sensation. Before he could get too comfortable in relishing the care, his body is lifted up, and thrown backwards.
He lands on the futon with a loud crack of his spine, and if he didn’t know better, he’d be sure Sasori is trying to snap his neck.
He tends to forget that regardless of his lithe frame, Sasori’s body is meticulously engineered as a war machine, nothing less. Despite the transformative jutsu, he is still able to use the cable to yeet him around.
He cannot vocalise any concerns, as Sasori is already climbing on top of him like a wildebeest stalking its prey. His eyes hooded and lips pulled to a lopsided smile, his torso is swaying slightly as he seats himself over Deidara’s pelvis.
“I see that you’ve enjoyed yourself” Sasori purrs into his sensitive ears, and Deidara doesn’t understand at first, until he glances at the spot he’s been kneeling on. A small puddle still lingered behind, the evidence for his excitement.
Deidara suddenly feels embarrassed. It’s one thing letting Sasori fuck his face until he’s dizzy and it’s another admitting that he liked it.
“My man, it’s…” he begins, without any concrete thing to say, to save his dignity.
“Shhh” Sasori silences him with one flick of his hand. The unexpected ego boost hits home, and despite his recent orgasm, he’s revitalised again “it’s hot.”
Deidara lets his head fall back to the futon, allowing himself a moment of relaxation before the coil tightens around his body again. The metal cuts into his thigh, then torso and chest, and finally, applying just enough pressure to his neck that he’s aware of its presence.
Like the old god of seduction, Sasori dips down, and kisses Deidara’s lips, harshly, roughly. He allows his partner to brush his tongue against his, and even gratifies him with a moan. Then he catches himself. He locks Deidara’s lower lip between his teeth and tugs, until he can taste the blood. He sucks at the wound he created, the taste of iron fuelling his desire even further.
Deidara doesn’t mind the pain, he’s just glad when Sasori’s tongue finds his own again. His excitement courses through his veins, and the mouth on his chest reacts to the sudden supply of dopamine.
It seeks out Sasori’s heart chamber and licks the inscribed cylinder. Sasori nearly combusts. He slams his palm on the ground so as not to tumble forward, heaving, his eyes darting to the offending appendage. He must keep it contained next time.
Then, his gaze wanders to Deidara’s face, the slowly drying droplets of cum, mixed with saliva and now, a little red swirl on his chin. His lips parted, he stares up at Sasori with a lustful gaze that puts a stake through his heart directly, and unthinkable words fill his mind. No.
He focuses on anything else, tearing his gaze away from those hungry cerulean eyes. His cock is up again, and an idea is born.
Scooting forward, he aims for Deidara’s mouth again.
“Just a little more” it isn’t an order anymore, but a request that his partner is eager to fulfill. Sasori presses down, until he’s once again bottomed out in Deidara’s throat, his balls resting on his chin. Sasori leans down on his forearms so that he could use his position to the fullest, completely smothering his partner in dick.
He knows Deidara wouldn’t complain anyway. Sasori releases him at the first sound of gagging, slowly dragging his penis over the eager tongue. Deidara wraps his lips around the head, licking, cleaning the remnants of come, then tonguing the slit until Sasori slides back to his abdomen.
For a few seconds, they just stare at each other. Deidara regains the ability to properly breathe, just when the concept of reciprocity is born among Sasori’s sparse arsenal of emotions.
The cable remains in place, but Sasori moves further down, until he reaches Deidara’s neglected, weeping cock. At first, he’s really modest, barely glazing his tongue over it. The reaction he receives doesn’t match his actions, as Deidara nearly flies off the futon.
Sasori smirks against the dick, before taking him into his mouth fully, entirely, swallowing around him with uncharacteristic generosity. Deidara knows better than to try to interfere, so he just watches Sasori bob his head up and down, until he’s properly wet with saliva.
Deidara has been starved for some action, so it doesn’t even take five minutes for him to get ready to burst.
“My man” he pipes up “I’ll cum, un.”
Sasori recoils as if Deidara’s sperm would be just as explosive as his sculptures.
In truth, he has plans with the brat, and those don’t include him finishing early.
“Okay, that was cruel, even from you, hn” Deidara laments the loss of contact, but not for long, as Sasori settles above him.
“Just wait” Sasori waves him off, and his partner can’t help but make a jab at him as revenge for leaving him hanging.
“I thought you hated to keep people waiting, un” he prods, cheeky.
“One more word and you won’t get off at all” Sasori’s threats aren’t empty words, Deidara knows as much. So he falls silent, focusing on the way Sasori’s weight shifts in his torso.
Then a sultry hand slides around his clock, and Sasori raises himself up.
Deidara bites his lip, straight into the wound his partner bestowed on him. It starts to bleed again, but he doesn’t, cannot mind, because his cock is pressed against Sasori’s hole, once, twice. The third attempt penetrates Sasori’s anus as he guides Deidara inside him. He still keeps control with an iron fist as sweat beads on his forehead and air fails to reach his phantom lungs. The justu is not yet perfect, leaving Sasori with ghosts of feelings he used to have.
He waits until his rectum properly expands to accommodate the intrusion, staring into loving eyes. It’s still foreign, in a way, and Sasori doesn’t like to think about it that much.
But these few seconds are more important than they seem, strengthening their red yarn of transcendental connection.
Then Sasori lowers himself until his ass meets Deidara’s hips in a symphony of skin slamming against skin, then he rises again, and lets himself fall back down even harder. He rides Deidara with vigour, in a fast staccato of ups and downs, squirming until the fat head of his cock hits his prostate over and over again. Despite the edge of the coil still aimed at Deidara’s throat, control, that sweet power, is slowly slipping past Sasori’s nimble fingers.
It feels just too good, bordering on unbearable, like the skin would melt off his bones if he had any, the searing sensation excites all his nerve endings, and he knows he won’t last long, both in the mental and physical sense.
Deidara isn’t faring any better. He still didn’t wipe the cum off his face, his eyes are shut, and he is loud , moaning, and groaning.
Sasori tries to bite back his moans, but it proves a challenge as the dick fits him just right; he couldn’t have engineered a better one if he tried. For a while, he keeps himself upright, seeking to quench his own desire, just relishing in the way Deidara is laying under him, bound, covered in his semen.
Then, as his thirst for power is satiated, he starts to long for more. He leans down, kissing Deidara, still biting, but less harshly now. Their tongues entwine, dancing to a tune only they hear, and Sasori sighs, for he can finally let go of all the suffocating expectations he sets for himself.
Deidara is enslaved to the feeling of his man around him, right and hot, all the lewd sounds he makes go straight into Deidara’s groin.
Sasori thinks he has it under control, but it’s obvious how much he’s affected by his cock.
The tongue on Deidara’s chest seeks out Sasori’s core again, and he moans into their kiss. He thought his partner would be easier to control if he unleashed it, yet it is actually him who’s struggling to keep their composure. The appendage licks his cylinder of a heart slowly, exciting all the small purple nerves Sasori kept from his original human body.
He has to pull back, before it can get too much. Sasori straightens up again, tearing himself from the contact, severing the merging of their souls.
But Deidara has seen the look in his eyes. Even if it was just barely there, a phantom of expression, he watches his partner like a hawk ready to strike. No matter that Sasori withdrew himself, Deidara will come after him. As he bounces rhythmically, gathering all his leftover composure so as not to turn into a cross eyed, whimpering mess, he catches Deidara’s arms lifting from the corner of his eyes.
Unable to protest, to push him back into submission, Sasori watches in slow motion as two strong hands land on either side of his hip. At first, they’re barely there, just a gripping reminder that Sasori has lost his absolute power over him.
Then fingers dig into his artificial flesh, and follow his every movement.
He scouts Deidara’s stained face, for what he doesn’t even know. There’s a gleam in his eyes and a determined edge to his brows. As he notices Sasori looking, his lips pull to a lopsided smile.
“Hey there, my man, un” he says in a lighthearted tone that unsettles Sasori “enjoying your ride?”
Sasori comes down against his pelvis in a particularly angry slap, but he’s working against himself there, as Deidara’s ample cock slams into his sensitive bundle of nerves yet again. Sasori disguises his moan with a cough, badly, and the way Deidara’s lips pull to a smirk, he knows that he heard it quite clearly.
“Brat” Sasori presses through gritted teeth, reminding him of his place. Underneath him, and obedient. It seems to work just for a second, but when Sasori tries to raise his hips, the hands on his pelvis cage him down, two mouths nipping and licking at his skin.
“What…?” he begins, but the words die in his throat as Deidara lifts him up, not high enough for his cock to slip out, but leaving only the head inside.
Sasori is about to reprimand him for manhandling him, straight up disregarding their dynamic. They stare into each other’s eyes for a mere second, before, without any form of warning, Deidara slams his hips into Sasori’s upholstered body.
The thrust does a hard reset on Sasori’s brain. His body goes limp for a second, his eyes flutter down halfway, and he nearly screams . It’s too good, more than he can handle, by a margin, but Deidara doesn’t give him time to complain, as he keeps pistoning into his partner at a brutal pace.
“Ah, ah, brat!” Sasori cannot decide if his body wants him to stop or beg him for more, however humiliating it may be.
“What’s up my man?” Deidara coos, not even slowing for a second, fucking into Sasori relentlessly. He is making fun of him, yet it barely registers in Sasori’s mind, as he’s too preoccupied with getting his imaginary guts rearranged to properly care.
Then, Deidara uses his fatal move; slipping one palm over Sasori’s cock, the tongue teasing the head, then licking at the underside, just like his mouth has done before. Sasori is done for. Despite the cable wrapped all over him, Deidara still manages to seize control for himself. Three more thrusts, and Sasori feels the tightening in his stomach.
“Deidara!” he wails as he cums over his partner’s stomach. He trembles in the aftershock, his cock twitching with every spill as he coats Deidara in his cum again. He pants, trying to regain his composure, but Deidara doesn’t stop, chasing his own high relentlessly. His lips caught between his teeth, his pumps become sloppy and uneven as he can barely hold on without overstepping Sasori’s boundaries any more.
As Sasori clenches around him, withering in overstimulation. It doesn’t take him long to join his partner in bliss, coming deep inside Sasori with large spurts, like a geyser erupting.
“Oh fuck, hn” Deidara groans, pulling Sasori against himself one last time. For a few moments, they do nothing but pant, returning back to earth from heaven.
Then, the cable slowly retreats into Sasori’s abdominal cavity, pulling the poisoned edge away from Deidara’s neck.
“Damn. You are unbelievable, un” Deidara rasps with a chuckle, his fingers still digging into Sasori’s hips.
“You just finished inside me” Sasori states, without emotion. He is not mad, just surprised.
“I did, and I would do it again, un” Deidara responds cheekily, and Sasori figures it’s best if he climbs off before his partner gets any ideas about a second round.
Calmness settles over him, he feels cozy and unusually vulnerable. Sex tends to do that to him, and Deidara always takes advantage of the situation, and honestly, he doesn’t mind. He waits until Sasori comes to him, lying motionless on his back, still as a log. In truth, he’s also just too fucked out of his mind to move.
His plan comes to fruition when he feels something soft dab at his abdomen, and he realises it’s the towel he discarded when Sasori accepted his challenge of a mating dance.
Sasori is so tender and caring as he cleans him, then moves to his face and wipes the now dried cum off.
“Thanks my man, un” Deidara expresses his gratitude to reinforce this behaviour, and Sasori just hums. He feels his hole drip just as the jutsu starts to wear off, but he isn’t concerned about that now.
Throwing the towel away, he nestles against Deidara on the futon, cuddling up to his side.
The hot water and intense intimacy leaves Deidara drained, so all he does is wrap his arm around his man and pull him closer.
Using his partner’s tiredness as an excuse to stay, Sasori watches him slowly drift off to sleep as he remains by his side, relishing in this rare moment of shared vulnerability between them that he allows himself to experience.