Artistic Persuasion
Bodies lay, beheaded, dismembered, and mutilated beyond recognition. Blood pooled from wounds, collecting together in a brilliant, crimson testimony to insanity. Body parts were strewn across the land. Trees and grass were matted in the bloody affair that took place. The devastation of the event was tragic. Innocents as well as shinobi were slaughtered mercilessly. One would think that someone who could do such a thing must feel some semblance of emotion. Some flicker in the conscience telling them that what they did was wrong. Some kind of reminder that…
"Those explosions you create are not art. Art lasts forever." Or maybe they don't feel anything. Maybe they just argue about art.
"Art does not last, un! If you look at something forever, it gets old, boring, and less beautiful each time you see it. You look at something for a long enough time, it loses its appeal." With that said, a tall blond man sat on one of the decapitated bodies, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing. Yes, he sat on a dead body in the middle of a massacre. At the pressure, blood began to seep from the lifeless body more rapidly.
"Deidara, do not make me repeat myself. Art lasts. If it doesn't, how can you appreciate it? You are getting on my last nerve." The tall blond, now known as Deidara scoffed at his companion for his, in Deidara's opinion, erroneous description of what art truly is.
"Sasori Dan'na! How can you appreciate something that you've seen before?!" The redhead, Sasori glared at his partner.
"You're explosions all look the same to me." Deidara opened his mouth to speak a retort, but thought better of it. He closed his mouth to a pout, idly making designs in the bloody ground. Placing his hand in the puddle beneath him, he submerged his entire hand and brought it back up, dripping in the evidence of his victory. Determined to make some art that his Dan'na would appreciate, he made small drawings on his skin.
Sasori, content with winning the argument, watched his cohort soak himself in blood. Oddly intrigued with the spirals that made up the blood painting on Deidara's skin, Sasori found himself drawn closer to the murderer masquerading in the macabre. Noticing that Deidara had already divested himself of his cloak and shirt, Sasori licked his lips and continued to watch the younger man in anticipation.
Deidara was not as ignorant to the attention from Sasori as he pretended to be. He changed his tactic of painting the blood on him, to sensually rubbing it into his body. Over every line and protruding muscle, his fingers danced and stoked, slowly teasing Sasori with playful movements that has sexual undertones. When he drew a line down to the waistband of his pants, dropping his finger just underneath the material, he looked up. Meeting Sasori's eyes with his, he leisurely smirked.
"Sasori Dan'na," He drawled. "Would you like me to show you some explosive art?" He made his way over to Sasori taking deliberate, calculated steps, his eyes never leaving those of his companion. He straddled his waist, pressing his body close to Sasori's. When his lips were a mere breath away from the other mans, he said, "I can show how art truly is a bang."
"I think I can be persuaded to see experience this art of yours. And I'll show you that longer art lasts, the more…satisfactory it is." Sasori smirked at Deidara's wide eyes and shocked expression. Using Deidara's moment of vulnerability, Sasori flipped him over, landing them both in a slash of blood, turning the blond artists hair a deep crimson, matching the blush now spreading over his cheeks.
"Oh yes. I believe I am going to enjoy this artistic persuasion immensely."