Deidara looked to his sleeping partner, just gazing at his perfect features, his long black lashes, taking in his scent. He stared at this gorgeous piece of art. His piece of art. Itachi was all his. Or, more Deidara was Itachi's.
The blond never imagined the emotionless Uchiha even acknowledged him after he forcefully brought him to the Akatsuki. For a while, Dei thought he was upset about the lack of appreciation, after Dei learned to truly love and find a home in the Akatsuki; it was clear that Dei showed no sign of thanks to him, the one who had acknowledged his talents in the first place.
And he never imagined the black haired beauty would confront him about this.
It started as a simple and slightly awkward chat between the two, who were waiting in the meeting room. Itachi was always the first one there, and Deidara was often right behind him, so this situation was not uncommon.
The terrorist felt uneasy under the mans intense stare; he really hated being studied by him, and he had no idea what he was thinking. Itachi never gave any hint of what he was thinking, or feeling for that matter. For the longest time, Dei thought it was because he was an arrogant ass hole, but oh how the shinobi prodigy had proved him wrong.
Deidara tapped in fingers on the long table in the meeting room, shifting in his seat. He avoided looking in his midnight black eyes. He made it clear that his gaze made him feel uncomfortable, but how he felt afterwords was a completely different story. Afterwords, he got this tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that could only be described as an incredible high, something that could only be compared to an amazing piece of art; and he knew exactly who the artist was.
Many of his sculptures were based on this... butterfly feeling. Every time he would grab a handful of clay, he would picture the infamous sharingan, and his first glance at Itachi. He couldn't quite place what it was, but there was just something about the man that Deidara craved; and at the same time, loathed.
That was it, wasn't it? He was just too perfect. Deidara remembered the first time he had tried to sculpt the man's face, and failed epically. But not today, no. Today he would prove that the man was not too perfect for him to create. He would prove that he was a better artist; this man would not be a better work of art than he could create. He just couldn't stand the thought of it.
The artist had tried time and time again, but he just couldn't get it right. Itachi was just too perfect. It had bothered him all day, and it showed on his face that he was upset in the meeting room; Itachi staring at him as he did routinely.
Most of the time, the only words the two exchanged were a 'hello' and 'goodbye', but seeing the frustration on the blond's face, Itachi wouldn't have it.
"Your welcome," Itachi's emotionless and even voice echoed. Deidara looked around the room, as if expecting someone else to be standing there. Realizing it was only he and the Uchiha, he coyly pointed to himself with a questioning look.
"Um, thank you... I guess, un..." Deidara struggled to find what he was thanking him for.
Itachi waited a moment, then finally said, "For bringing you here," his face still showed no sign of emotion. It bothered Deidara, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. "Oh. umm... yeah, thanks, un..."
The awkward silence returned. Itachi stared more intently than ever at the artist. Deidara was staring at the wall away from Itachi, feeling his gaze. He heard some ruffling from his direction, and was tempted to turn around and scream 'WHAT, HMM?' but as he was about to do so, he found himself face-to-face with the Uchiha. And a little too close for comfort. Deidara could taste the man's breath.
"Itachi-" Deidara began, feeling his face turn five different shades of red, but the next words were muffled by Itachi's lips.
Itachi's lips, Deidara noticed, were soft, like a girls, but powerful and with the passion of a man. Deidara was glad he was sitting in a chair, because he probably would've dropped to his knees were he standing. Itachi finally broke the kiss and stared in Deidara's one visible eye. That butterfly was having a freaking spasm in Deidara's stomach. And, no longer standing the tension, grabbed hold of Itachi and crashed his lips on to his. Itachi thrust his tongue inside the blond's, wrapping his arms around him, eventually pinning him down on the table and straddling him.
Deidara could feel his package swelling up, and apparently Itachi could too, because he only rubbed harder against him. Itachi made no noise, but as Deidara moaned into his mouth, he felt himself bursting with emotion. Or was he just aroused?
Finally acknowledging his need for air, Deidara pulled away gasping. Though Itachi didn't stop there, he trailed his tongue along the blonds collarbone, pulling his hips closer against his own, leaving only enough space for him to reach his hand down to rub, attempting to grasp him. Deidara let out another moan in pleasure, only this time, Itachi's mouth did not mute it. Deidara's face flushed as it echoed in the meeting room. He didn't really care right now though, what he cared about right now was the placement of Itachi's hand.
Deidara had attempted to say something, but quickly forgot as Itachi's hand had made it's way under his cloak and into his pants. Deidara moaned again, and again, louder each time. Though Itachi had had just about enough of the ridiculous cloak that their leader had made them wear, and pulled his hand out only to roughly pull the cloak off his shoulders. Deidara helplessly arched into him, pulling Itachi's own cloak away as well, then letting the man's hair free.
He noticed how messy the man's long silky hair made him look, a black frame for his pale face; an imperfect one. Though the blond found the imperfect mess of hair even more satisfying than he had ever imagined as his hands resumed it's place on Dei's place. Itachi reclaimed the boys mouth so to silence his moaning, or rather feel it in his mouth.
As Deidara wrapped his arm around the Uchiha's neck, he got another feeling... one he didn't like... one he really didn't like... He broke the kiss once again and turned towards the entrance. Noticing the boys shocked expression, Itachi too looked to the direction of the door. And there he noticed an equally shocked look on every member of the Akatsuki. Standing there. Staring at them. Half naked.
Itachi promptly lifted himself off of the blue-eyed blond and, grabbing his cloak, made his way past his partners in crime with a once again emotionless expression.
That was about two years ago. Now, as he stared at the perfect man's face, he was finally satisfied. He wasn't perfect. He wasn't before, at least, until he smiled. Yes, the first time Deidara had seen him smile made him perfect, and he couldn't love it more. This perfect work of beauty was perfect just for him. And more so because he knew that he was the one who painted that smile.