Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto, nor do I own Deidara, or Sasori (As much as I would like to they belong to Kishimoto)

Warning!: This story contains, naughty situations involving two men, and maybe some naughty language. if that offends you, kindly fuck off. If not enjoy!

Brat's rambles:Hey everybody! Anyways, I've been having computer issues lately, as in it won't turn on sometimes issues, but in my downtime I put together this nice little story for you, depending on reviews it may make it up to four chapters! so review! or not. I hope you enjoy. It's not very long I know....

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This Familiar Parabol

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I sigh as I hear him step through the door, back from his shower.

It is inevitable, as he slowly walks over to me, still dripping wet clad only in a towel.

I know exactly what is going to happen, as he drapes his damp arms around my shoulders, his wet chest against my back making my cloak grow damp. Wrinkling my nose disgustedly I stifle a snort as I feel the familiar tickle of his wet golden locks on my cheeks. The subtle scent of amber stinging my nostrils as he leans close to my ear whispering the same thing he always does, in that same silken vixen tone.

"Please Danna, un"

I know what he wants, and as always I give it to him. Turning and pulling him down onto my lap, and wrapping my hand in his wet hair. Tugging his head roughly to the side, letting my breath tickle the nape of his neck for just a moment. Smiling as he shivers, I whisper what I know he wants to hear.

"Tsk tsk, such a naughty brat, interrupting your master while he works, you're going to have to be..."

I pause running my tongue softly along the pulsing vein in his neck. I can feel his heartbeat growing erratic as I make my way up to his ear and stop, whispering again.

"Punished for your insolence"

He moans impatiently grabbing at my cloak trying desperately to tear it from my body. His breath is shaky and his next predictable sentence is uttered only in trembling broken gasps.

"P-please.....n-need you..un!"

It's cute that he can't stop that annoying speech habit of his, even caught in the throws of such passion. I kiss his neck softly running my free hand over his body, while his hands still fumble with the clasps of my cloak shakily.

His hands seize all movement as I pierce the tender flesh just above his pulse, biting him hard enough to feel the skin breaking and tearing between my teeth.

Its the same repetitive cycle we always go through. Sometimes I feel trapped and immobile in this lucid dream, while the rest of the world undoubtedly turns around me. It isn't out of some secret love that he does this, there is no real feeling behind any of this save for desire. His desire that is, I honestly couldn't care less.

I love him, I really do, but there is no need to complicated this little game we play with such a foolish emotion. I guess I'm just clinging to what little he will give me.

Even if I grow increasingly tired of this cycle, I am trapped by it.

I taste the metallic sting of his blood on my tongue, and it thrills me but I pull away.

The essence of his life staining my lips as I pull him into a subtle kiss. He kisses back with such ferocity I know that he has grown beyond desperate, and I let him ravish my mouth.

In the end this is all just to appease him, to be close to him. He doesn't need to know that I feel anything at all.

I act completely unfazed as his hands finally manage to snap open my cloak, and slide it from my shoulders. Inside I feel butterflies, this makes me nervous, what if I let some hint of emotion slip out? It could destroy everything I have worked so hard to attain.

This calm stoic demeanor is nothing more than a very convincing act. Inside I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to be angry at him for using me to satisfy his carnal needs without ever realizing how much I care.

I want him to love me.

But I can't ever let him know, and it tears me apart. On the inside I am at war, with myself. I am not okay.

Outwardly my face is blank as he pulls the cloak the rest of the way off of me, letting it fall and puddle on the ground.

His hands begin their journey, wandering over my polished skin delicately, exploring in that same pattern, the areas that he has already mapped out a thousand times over. The same pace and rhythm as he deepens our kiss.

It's boring, and pointless. He always looses himself so completely, and I can't bring myself to even enjoy it anymore.

There is no point in enjoying anything that you pretend to hate. No point in even moving as his hands find the waistband of my pants and pull the sash loose, letting them fall from my hips, just enough to expose what he wants. His hand wandering to grasp my hardening member, stroking me to full hardness, It's difficult to keep my face passive at times like these, but somehow I manage it.

While he's preoccupied, I slowly shift our position off of my workbench, and onto the floor. I know from experience that sometimes, he gets so into it that we fall anyway.

Once we are safely on the ground he resumes his actions, stroking me slowly, watching my impassive face with those stunning devious eyes. A glint of sadness held in the entrancing light they seem to capture, he wants a reaction, but he will never get one. Not from me.

His other hand has disappeared and I know what it's up to, sneaking it's way downwards to start preparing him. I will never let myself do it for him, not since this whole thing started, and not now. I made that clear from the very beginning. So he does it himself, knowing he should never even dare to ask.

I watch as his face contorts, morphing into a thousand different expressions, painful to sad, angry to happy. All to finally settle on lust, the powerful emotion painting over his features and erasing any sign of the emotions that passed before it.

I twist the impassive look on my face to one of impatience, and it doesn't take him long to catch the hint. Speeding up his pace, most likely terrified of making me angry. I really do hate to wait, he also doesn't need to know that he's the exception to that little quirk of mine. In truth I could sit and watch him do this all day, it's intoxicating.

The way he twists and moans in my lap, drives me absolutely insane. I'm shocked to say the least as I feel his free hand wrap around me, only this time its holding him as well. He rubs us together cautiously, his moans growing higher, a look of curiosity in his eyes. This is different, I wasn't expecting this.

He's testing my resolve and I'm not a fool. I bite my lip to stifle a grunt as he runs his hand over the heads of our touching erections. When I feel the tongue from his hand sneak out to tease me softly, I can't stop the small moan that escapes me.

My heart is beating faster and I guess you could say I'm panicking. Without thinking I had done the one thing I had been trying to avoid, I let some hint of feeling slip.

Fuck.

Acting as quickly as I can I shove him backwards roughly, before he has the chance to see the pleasure on my face. harshly, I shove two fingers into him, finishing the job it has taken him seemingly forever to accomplish.

He still looks surprised, and I can't say that I blame him, I am surprised too.

Surprised at just how different this is becoming from all of our other encounters.

Different, and terrifying. This uneasy feeling won't stop growing in the pit of my stomach, and my only option is to play impatient and get this over with as soon as I can. Then I can turn and dismiss him, I can go back to my work and pretend that everything was the same.

I can continue pretending to hate this.

If this keeps up, I won't be able to lie anymore, I'll crack, and there will be no putting me back together.

Pushing his legs apart softly, I position myself. Pushing inside of him gently before sheathing myself completely in that tight heat I love so much. He gasps, his body stiffening for only a moment before he adjusts and relaxes. I begin to build my pace slowly, steadily trusting into him hard.

He's tossing his head from side to side, that mane of golden hair flipping around wildly becoming messy and tangled. I feel him wrap his arms around my shoulders, and pull himself closer to me, he wants me deeper, and how can I refuse.

Grabbing his shoulders I pull him into my lap, letting him do most of the work. He's riding me harder than he ever has, and soon his lips are on my neck, kissing the skin, nipping softly.

His hand mouths are biting my back.

This is so different.

And I find myself wondering, why?

What makes this time so different from the countless others, everything started just the same as always, when had that changed?

I can't keep thinking as he tightens his muscles around me. Everything becoming irrelevant in that one moment, my vision by this point, is already starting to swim. I can feel myself getting close and that is a dangerous fact.

I have never one let myself finish with him. I wait until he's cum, and fallen asleep, and most nights secretly I relive myself in the bathroom.

This situation just keeps getting worse.

I know he's almost there when his breathing and movements grow more than erratic. As if it were possible, he's riding me even harder, and it's taking all of my self control not to thrust back into him just as hard.

I stay immobile, seconds pass, and before I realize it I'm moving with him.

He's tangling his hands in my hair, and I'm relived, because I know this will all be over soon, maybe I can still keep my feelings all a secret.

I can feel him start to pull my hair as he gets rapidly closer, when he yanks hard, and I feel the hot splash of his seed on my stomach, I know it's over, he's finished.

Slowly I start to withdraw from him, but he stops me, wrapping his legs around my waist, still panting and spent, he keeps thrusting his hips downwards. I bite my lips to stay silent, between the thrusting and his muscles contracting around me I might not make it.

I fail, biting my lips so hard they bleed to stop the noise I know I would make, as I release deep within him, trembling.

I shoot him a deadly glare as I ride out my orgasm, that stupid brat knows much better than to overstep his boundaries like that.

He smiles at me innocently, and kisses my lips gently.

"It never seemed fair to you, un" he mumbles almost incoherently as his eyes begin to droop and I know sleep will be coming to claim my angel soon.

"That you never got off when we did it before"

I chuckle as he drifts to sleep, it didn't seem fair?

Thank god my perfect little angel is so oblivious. Wiping the mess from myself I turn to gently clean him up, picking up his peacefully slumbering form and carrying it to his bed. Setting him down gently I pick up my discarded cloak, placing it over him like a blanket. He shifts slightly, grabbing the thin fabric and curling it into one of his hands near his face, snuggling his nose into it and inhaling deeply.

I smile as I watch him sleep, sitting down softly on his bed, and running my fingers through his long tangled hair. This time was much different, I almost felt like maybe, it meant something. Breaking my normal routine, I lean down and kiss his cheek gently.

I whisper as he sleeps, knowing that he can't hear me.

"I love you Deidara"

He snuggles his face against my hand sighing in his dreamland.

Reluctantly I get up and wander back to my work, for some reason, I can't stop smiling. I feel so at ease with the burden of my feelings off of my chest, I know he didn't hear me, I know it didn't really count as a confession of love, but I don't care.

I said it, and that is all that matters.

I hear him shift again as I resume my work, silently.

I hear him mumble and my heart sinks.

"Love you too...Danna, un"

I hope to god he's just talking in his sleep.

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Not the best I've done recently, but the later chapters I have planned will be much raunchier I promise, this was just like...a setting up of the events to come.

Review! or I may not update, I don't want to be a review whore, but if you fav my stuff I'd really like to know what you liked about it, you know hear opinions and things, anyways I'm done with the rant.

Love ya'll!