Summary: Deidara has seen mountains crumble, Itachi's eyes, still born children, Sasori's defeat…but he has never seen anything this beautiful before. R/R.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

--Run desire run
Sexual being
Run him like a blade
To and through the heart
No conscience
One Motive
Cater to the hollow
Screaming feed me here
Fill me up again
Temporarily pacify this hungering—A Perfect Circle

Deidara loves him. Love, love, love, loves him. In a way that makes him giddy, pressing into his dirty toe nails, tickling his nerve endings, making him moan and dance as if overcome with a spiritual awakening. And it is.

He has made Deidara God. With his blood and the sacrifice of his very soul: black, murderous—a demon. He has worshipped unwittingly at Deidara's barren alter and Deidara has finally become God.

He is the creator. Look, at that shattered body, split into jagged sections like a un-mined diamond waiting for Deidara's skillful hands to come and slowly chip away until what is left is nothing—beauty.

And this, this untarnished beauty strokes at Deidara's fleeting soul. Fills him with a craving he has not known before. Not even on dark, windless nights, with the taste of sugar and blood on his tongue, using his hands to taste the very sweat of Itachi's back. Enjoying every moan and twitch of eye; Itachi's slow journey into self destruction.

Nothing, not the scent of 10 tons of burning flesh, the vibrations of a crumbling city, the melting of the golden flowers placed into his Danna's make shift grave….nothing compares to this.

This, Garaa defeated, laying on a glass table awaiting the final extraction…this is the most beautiful thing Deidara's eyes have ever witnessed.

So, So beautiful that Deidara can not help but love him. In the way a God must love his disciples for it is from them that they find their power.

And now Deidara is oh so powerful. So powerful in fact that his hands salivate with the shear strength of it, working themselves into a lustful frenzy. Drenching themselves in need.

And he does need it. That, that feeling again. It courses through him so quickly he can't catch it and keep it in place. And he needs it. Wants it back and it is running away from him. The feeling of watching the sand slide slow and seductive, an ancient dance down Garaa's body as that final blow sent him pummeling into the ground.

And the explosion. It shook and shattered and even just thinking about it makes Deidara close his eyes and throw his head back in unbound pleasure. "Oh" Up and down his spine like the caress of a lover except so much sweeter and so much nearer to what Deidara wants.

He knows he shouldn't, knows leader already warned him and that he's on thin ice but he moves closer. He needs to be near it. Garaa. Needs it so bad he feels it pull at him in a way that reminds him of how Sasori's puppets must have felt.

This feeling is addiction, and Deidara knows it all too well. Knows how dangerous it is and how ugly it is because it does not go away. Not permanently. Which makes it almost beautiful because you can for a second make it go away if you just….

"Garaa, un" It's groaned in ecstasy because he is so very close. So very, very close that his hands can taste the ash and antiseptic. That his body can feel the cool radiating off his slimy skin, can sense the stagnant Demon chakra.

Stagnant…submissive. "Yes, bow to me un" And a silly grin splits across Deidara's face because he is so very close and so very much in love with this. Finally , something that everyone could see that would show them that Deidara, not Itachi with his eyes full of unending universes of hell in which people dream of their tongues melting right out of their mouths to wrap around their stretching necks, Deidara, not Pein with his thousands of eternal bodies, but Deidara was true power, Deidara was God—a bringer of miracles.

"I have made you beautiful" He whispers this like a glorious revelation, still stunned that his hands could have destroyed something so great—made something so repulsive into pure beauty. His hands are closer now and aching, needing so much, so much to just touch him.

To graze over that place where skin used to be and lick…savoring until the flavor faded away. He presses his hands across Garaa's eyes, noticing how the eyelashes have been burnt away. He kisses him. Sighs in sweet relief.

"So, so beautiful un." His hands move down to his throat, delicate and small and further still to his chest. His still heart beat, faint, like a peck against Deidara's palms. "Do you want to know a secret?"

He whispers lower, almost inaudible and lowers his head to Garaa's deformed ear, letting his tongue flick out to caress the disjointed shape of its shell. "Part of me wants to leave you like this—forever. Like a monument to us, to this event. I want…to stop time so that this could never go away"

His voice is full with emotion, a swell filling his throat with underwater tears. "But I love you Garaa of the Sand." And he smiles, melancholic, the same way he smiled when he pushed a clay bomb slow and careful down his mother's throat—shaped like a heart.

"And I am a merciful God" He smiles again, remember his mothers small prayers that he did not let her finish out of mercy because she was a fool. No God could be perfect and eternal. "So I will not damn you to a hideous eternity un."

And he stroked, pressing against the dormant seals, feeling them quiver and slide underneath his fingertips. "I will destroy you Garaa. I will destroy you and make you beautiful. So beautiful that I will never do anything else except love you until that feeling fades and then…you will be my perfection Garaa."

Garaa does not stir and Deidara kind of wishes he would. Wishes that the love of this moment of his life would wake up and know—understand, just what Deidara is doing for him. "I am sure that you have never been perfect before now Garaa, but for 1 fleeting second you'll know what that feeling is like and you will love me un, just how mama loved me."

And Deidara pulled away, balling his hands into fist, trying to concentrate on the heat in his palms and not the cool underneath him.

"Deidara" The voice is so strong is wraps around Deidara's very being and pulls him back more like a filthy puppet and less like a god. "You know you're not allowed in here." And its Itachi, always the rule follower because he does not understand that rules (like everything) are meant to be broken.

"I love him Itachi." Deidara says it like a pleading child and Itachi gets this look on his face as if someone has just slapped him or showed him the secret to the universe.

Itachi shrugs and beckons Deidara forward staring with eyes that promised unending, ugly pain if Deidara did not come. Eyes that pushed back his addiction and dried the mouths of his greedy hands. Deidara can not do anything but follow and he feels like Hercules, trapped and bound and barred from Olympus. Yet he follows, head held down in lament and twisted joy.

The moment is passing. "I made him perfect, so very perfect. I love him Itachi."

Itachi doesn't acknowledge him, shutting the chamber and methodically replacing the lock. "It will pass" he says, with words that sound like he's speaking around sharp heart shaped blades, filling his mouth with blood "like everything else does."

--I still don't know what is permanent, permanent.
Maybe all my possessions were precious.
Truth is, all my possessions I somehow lost 'em.—Emily Haines