Masked

Deidara shut his eyes. He closed his lips. He almost stopped breathing. He wanted to deaden as many senses as he possibly could. Even if he was blind and deaf, he knew he couldn't ignore the scent of sweat and sex; of feral dominance. He couldn't prevent the taste of another's lips. And worst of all, he couldn't numb the sensations.

He felt the familiar strain as his neck muscles were wrenched upward at an awkward angel. He felt the disgusting warmth of breath as he was forced to hear more degrading words. He felt a meaningless kiss pressed on his forehead. He could feel everything.

And he definitely felt the pain as his body rocked hard on the sickeningly soft bed. Hands released his head and slid down his skin, delving around his sides and clasping them fiercely; the touch was rough, the fingertips calloused. He inwardly grimaced as he lifted his hips to the fingers and the thrusts.

"Nnngh," he groaned, clawing at the smooth, satin bed sheets. He hated the comfort they provided. Another humiliating laugh assaulted his ears, before his face was ground back down on its side. Once more he moaned, the noise muffled into the pillow. It made him happy. And if that man was happy, things would be over with sooner.

He registered the usual feeling of that warm fluid inside him. There was a groan; driving fingernails; a tremble. Then he was empty, almost as soon as he had realized it was over. A cruel grip enclosed around his silky, blonde ponytail and his body was pushed to the side on the bed. Lying in a loose fetal position as the heat above him dissipated, he tried to veil his contempt. It was easy to hide as he grinned up at the man.

The body retreated into the shadows of the already murky room. It was assumed he was heading for the shower. He was always eager to wash himself of the deed.

'Yet just as eager to repeat it...un.'

The last look shot at him was cold and threatening. The features of that face were blotted out by the darkness of the night, but those sharp eyes shone bright as a demon's from within a cavern. He knew the look well.

He decided to just leave before the man returned from his shower and became angered at his presence. Sighing, he unclenched the black sheets and heaved his body from the mattress. He recollected his garments scattered across the floor. He grabbed another cloth by his foot and cleaned himself off, not really caring what it was as he tossed it aside.

He redressed in a hasty manner while striving to ignore the fresh pain he felt with such movement. He attempted to block the setting from sinking into his mind, lest his mentality tried to replay it when he wasn't looking. However, each time it became harder and harder to ignore the dull ticking of the wall clock, the shimmer of the silk, crimson furniture, the breeze that helped alleviate the humidity, and the wraith-like curtains that rustled as it blew. Failing once more, he slammed the cherry wood door behind him.

As he made his way through the halls he clutched his arms tightly around his cloak and readjusted it multiple times. It was fastened all the way, but despite this he still seemed to think it was about to fall from his body. He hugged his arms in tighter as he passed by two other Akatsuki on his way. They paid him no mind, but he couldn't shake the feeling that their eyes were seeing through him, like his thoughts were carved into his face; being read in such a way made his skin crawl. He carefully averted his gaze to the floor.

Finally, he reached his destination. It was another cherry wood door. There was a pause; a sigh; a knock. The deep response wasn't cold when it beckoned him in. Deidara was careful with the smile he placed on his lips when he turned the knob.

"Zetsu," he gleamed as he gracefully slinked into the room and shut the door. The area was lit with the soft glow of a lamp. Zetsu sat at a desk before him. He saw a small smile almost hidden by the shadows of Zetsu's leafy, green shell as the man recognized his voice.

"What are you doing here?" Zetsu's voice rumbled in a pleasant tone, still facing the desk, writing with a white quill.

Including a smile, Deidara responded, "I told you I'd try and come, un." 'It depended on whether I could walk...'

Zetsu placed the feather down onto the desk and stood to face him. 'Probably a scouting document,' Deidara thought, 'For him no doubt.'

Zetsu's hand fell on his shoulder. The shorter man wasn't hesitant to reach past the jagged plant jaws and caress the other's face. He never thought of them snapping shut on him. Actually, he wasn't sure he cared if they did.

Zetsu leaned down to meet his lips. The kiss started slow, quickly became more torrid on Deidara's part. A tongue; a shiver; a gasp. After a moment, he felt saliva trail from his lips. He moaned into the taller man's mouth and pressed hard against him. He allowed himself to be directed to the bed, deciding there was no point in saying any more. His conversation was a waste of time. He doubted anyone cared for his words.

He grasped Zestu's cloak and used the leverage to pull the man atop him after lowering himself to the mattress. The bed sheets were black but not as soft. Kisses were trailed down his neck. Running his fingers through the short, wisped strands, he licked Zetsu's ear and heavily breathed his words, telling him to do it hard. People seemed to like when he said it, like his leader. Or perhaps he just wanted him to beg.

However, Zetsu tended to be gentler. He also dragged it out, and allowed them both to enjoy it. Deidara hated him for it. It made everything seem real, which made it impossible to block out. It gave him false images. It exposed him. It made Deidara love him.

Zetsu paused and stood back up to shed his cloak. As always, Deidara stripped and lay face down on the bed, grinning over his shoulder watching Zetsu remove his clothes as well. The plant man straddled him and pressed his lips to the base of Deidara's neck. One hand wrapped around his chest and held him close. The other unravelled the strap wrapped tightly in his hair and let the blonde locks spill over his shoulders.

Then as Deidara closed his eyes and leaned into the pillow, he was suddenly flipped over and looking directly into Zetsu's eyes. He squirmed a little, but Zetsu's hold on his arms was firm. Deidara shuddered and looked away.

...the touch was rough, the fingertips calloused.

He tried to ignore most of the encounter, and he normally could. But in this case, Deidara could see everything in Zetsu's eyes. His stomach knotted, but he could always blanket the discomfort with more moans and panting. Zetsu touched him; made him come, though Deidara was not that concerned with it. 'You don't have to,' he had protested. The response, 'I want to,' always seemed to throw him off.

They moved together; they came together; they lay together. It was an awkward place for him to be, and yet he couldn't bring himself to just leave. Zetsu's arms were warm around his chest. He leaned back against the man and started to close his eyes. He was so tired... and Zetsu's body was so comforting. But then the air grew still, as Zestu couldn't help but say what he had been questioning the whole time.

So after their ephemeral period of contentment, Zetsu's warm voice hit his ear. "...you're so bruised."

Deidara knew it was coming, yet he had hoped Zetsu wouldn't ask. Before he could think to get up, the arms tightened around him. A laugh broke from the clay user's lips; a bitter laugh; an avoidant laugh. But those eyes – those piercing, glowing eyes – refused to move. The familiarity of their glow was unnerving. 'Like a demon's, un…'

He cleared his throat and looked away. He sighed and leaned back upon realizing that the hold was too firm to escape from. "It's not important, un. No concern of yours." His voice moved slowly and calmly. He really didn't want to articulate much else.

"Why not?"

"Wh-" Deidara started, but then wasn't sure what to say. 'Why?' he thought to himself, 'What I do has nothing to do with him, un. And furthermore...' "…When did you start to care?"

"..."

Deidara smiled, or at least tried to. "Look, forget about it, un. Why don't you go and clean up? Get a shower ...un."

Zetsu remained immobile for a moment and stared off at the wall, and then he slowly released Deidara from his hold. His body was shoved away as Zetsu stood. He leaned into the sheets and sighed.

"...Do you always wear that smile?"

Deidara looked back at him and tried to convince himself that the stare he was getting wasn't as cold and threatening as their leader's was. "…un."

Zetsu said nothing more to him. He didn't raise his voice. The bathroom door wasn't slammed shut. He just left. Deidara remained splayed across the mattress for a few minutes, listening to the curtain rustling from beyond the bathroom and the water being turned on.

Once he got up, he searched the entire room for a used towel or something similar, and then shoddily cleaned himself off before getting dressed and walking out. Slowly, he shut the door behind him, his clammy hand lingering atop the cool knob.

He felt a pang in his chest that was louder in his mind than that of his throbbing body. He felt tired and more than nauseated with himself. Leaning against the door, he could still hear the shower's running water. He listened; he waited; he lost hope.

He then stumbled away from the door, clutching his wrinkled and mussed-up cloak securely. He suddenly felt as though he hadn't bathed in days. Absently, he thought to himself, 'Maybe I could go and shower, un. Maybe... I could go back and apologize... un. Would that change things?'

He stopped in front of the door ...Just a door, really. He paused; he knocked; he died inside when he heard an answer. "Who's there?" the voice called gruffly, "Come in."

He brought his hand gradually to the handle, and smiled brightly as he opened the door.