Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Like This	By : sharingank Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 832 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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“I…hate it…when you’re like this, un.”

“Oh?” Tobi leaned in and cupped Deidara’s cheek. “But I love
it when you’re like this.” He moved his mouth down Deidara’s throat to his
chest, where the thick, black stitches were. “I love that face you make.” He
slid his tongue over the stitches, across the slit between them. “I want to
immortalize it.”

Deidara’s back arched off the bed. Tobi put his palm against
him and pressed him into the mattress.

“Though you wouldn’t approve, would you?”

Hands clenched, straining at the chains that bind him, eyes
screwed shut, messy golden hair spread out on the pillow, Deidara said nothing
for a while, merely breathed (deep and rasping and so, so beautiful).

“Art is—”

“Fleeting.”

Deidara looked at him, expression resigned. Betrayed,
almost.

Sharingan, sharingan. Always comes to that. You really
are delicate, Deidara. It’d be so easy to break you.

“Yeah.” Deidara turned his head to the side, a curtain of
hair covering one blue, blue eye. “Just do whatever you’re gonna do. Hurry up.
You know I can’t stand these fucking chains.”

Tobi smiled.

“I don’t think it’s the chains.”

He sucked on the middle finger of his right hand. Normally,
he’d have Deidara do this, but he’d rather not demoralize his partner
completely. The mood was already set, and now wasn’t the time for playfulness.

Finger thoroughly moistened, he pushed it inside of him, in
and out and in and out. Deidara made more of those delightful sounds that Tobi
never tired of, sounds that didn’t quite match up with his surprisingly
masculine voice (a charming counterbalance to his feminine features).

He’d seen many generations ebb and flow throughout his long
life, generations spawning an endless variety of body types and distinctions,
however Tobi had never seen anyone like Deidara before. Oh, the blonde hair and
blue eyes, yes, and even the mouths in his hands (byproducts of a unique
bloodline near extinction, honed and perfected in what will be their final
manifestation). But these blue eyes were exotic, wide yet slanted, darkly lined
yet bright. This shade of blonde was as electrifying and conspicuous as the man
himself.

Brash, excitable, respectful of his seniors (most of them,
at least), passionate to a fault…

It was the passion that drew Pein’s attention when he
singled him out for recruitment, a passion that, drawn directly from his
beloved art, infused everything he did.

“This one is special. He’ll do very well, given he
survives.”

Yes. While not suicidal, Deidara had little regard for the
continuation of his life if he could die at the moment his art was truly
complete, when his strength, his youth, reached its pinnacle.

Today, tomorrow, a week, a year…when didn’t matter. What
mattered is that it would happen, sooner or later.

Art is fleeting.

‘It isn’t the chains,” he repeated, and removed the finger.
He grabbed Deidara’s hips, gripping tight enough to bruise, nails breaking
skin. “It’s what they symbolize.”

He thrust forcefully, driving their bodies together again
and again and again. Deidara’s head snapped back. His bound hands fisted in the
sheets. His open mouth panted.

“Hate you like this, hate you, hate you, hate you…”

Tobi lowered himself over him, slick chest to slick chest,
hands on either side of Deidara’s head. He kissed his mouth, licked and nipped
his neck, returned to his mouth.

“We’ll destroy it,” he whispered. “That authority you hate
so much. We’ll destroy it.”

Supporting his weight on his arm, Tobi snaked a hand between
them to stroke Deidara’s erection.

“You’re part of it,” Deidara hissed. “You, Itachi,
Akatsuki—” Whatever else he would’ve said was lost beneath a strangled moan.

“A necessary part.”

Their eyes met.

“What…?”
Tobi kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss. “Without us, your
potential would be wasted.” He picked up the speed, thrusting harder, faster,
as his hand pumped. The room was full of the sound of clinking chains, the slap
of skin against skin, the creaking mattress, harsh moans.

Lips near Deidara’s ear, Tobi murmured, “Come.”

Deidara came looking at him, seeing him for what he was, for
what he’d always been and always would be.

Remember these things I show you, Deidara. Remember them.
Remember what I’ve given you, what I’ve made possible for you.

One last thrust, and Tobi
came inside of him.

“You really are a bastard,
un.”

“Yes,” Tobi agreed. “I am.
It’s—”

“Necessary. Doesn’t change
the fact that you’re a bastard, bastard.”

Tobi laughed.

“I suppose not.”

You have no idea, Deidara. You don’t understand the irony.
But I won’t show you that.

“Doesn’t mean I believe
you.”

“That’s your choice.”

“Che.” Deidara jiggled the
chains. “Take these things off me, wouldja?”

“No.”

He scowled.

“No?”

Grinning, Tobi trailed a
fingertip down Deidara’s abdomen.

“I haven’t finished with
you yet, senpai.”
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