Chapter 7:
"S-Sasori no Danna~" Deidara panted, throwing his head back as another flurry of moans invaded his mouth. He closed his eyes as his hands gripped the satin sheets underneath him. He bit his bottom lip as he felt the lips move lower on his body, chest heaving from the pleasure.
"My, Deidara…" he heard Sasori mumble before he felt a tongue explore his member, igniting gasping pants from the blonde. He arched his back, forcing the redhead to deep throat him, which only caused him to pant even faster. His heart was beating so fast, it almost felt like it was about to spring right out of his chest. The heat moving through his body was too much; he was sure he was on fire at this point, his veins like liquid kerosene.
"Nn…more, Danna," Deidara moaned, his hips unconsciously beginning to thrust against Sasori's mouth, wanting to feel more of that delicious, hot cavern on him. The puppeteer moved away to press his lips to the blonde, shoving his tongue straight in, which was met with Deidara's own. The redhead won dominance and bit the clay artist's lower lip, drawing a cry of pain and pleasure from the boy under him.
Sasori's body was hot as well, his toned chest and abdomen pressing into the blonde's. Deidara threw his head back once more when he felt a finger press into his entrance, his body squirming from the pleasure racking through him.
"Sasori no Danna…"
"Say it again, brat."
"Sasori no Danna…"
"Again."
"Sasori no…ah…Danna."
"Once more."
"Hah…nn…ah…mmm…SASORI NO DANNAAAAA!"
Deidara flew his eyes open, sitting upright in his head. He grabbed his pillow and stuffed it into his face, silencing the scream that suddenly escaped his throat. What type of dream was that?! Why did he even dream that he and Sasori-?
No…no, he wasn't about to say that word.
So why would his subconscious think about that?
Did he have feelings for the puppeteer?
Denial worked its way into the blonde's system, but he sighed, knowing it was pointless to deny anything. Especially with remembering what had happened last night, with the kiss and how much he had wanted to keep going.
However, his roommate had pulled away and went into their room as if nothing had happened between them, as if he hadn't just made out with another guy.
Deidara's blue irises landed on Sasori, who was snoring quietly and was still fast asleep. He huffed once and threw the covers off of him, standing up and stomping over to the redhead. He towered over him, gaze squinted. "Oi, Sasori no Danna."
Sasori's breathing changed and became slightly quicker, signaling that he was awake but choosing to ignore his roommate. Deidara clenched his jaw, kicking the mattress. "Oi, Sasori, wake up, un!"
"What the hell is it that you want, brat?" he heard the puppeteer mumble. In a second, the covers were off the bed and lying on the floor in a giant lump, exposing Sasori in only dark blue boxers. He turned over to stare at the blonde. "That wasn't polite."
"I'm not trying to be fucking polite, asshole, I'm trying to ask a question," the clay artist snarled, glaring slightly. Sasori sighed and sat up, rubbing his disheveled head. "Is it possible to have this much of a hangover headache?"
"QUIT FUCKING IGNORING ME, UN!" Deidara screamed, not caring that his roommate had a headache from drinking too much last night. It was his own damn fault, anyways. "Answer my fucking question."
"Ok, okay, what's the question, brat?" Sasori looked up at him with tired amber eyes, face expressionless. The question flew out into the air before Deidara had a chance to reword it:
"Why'd you kiss me last night?"
Silence filled the room as the blonde waited for an answer. The puppeteer cocked an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You kissed me last night, un," Deidara explained. "And I want to know why."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Sasori moved over to the opposite side of the bed and stood up, walking over to his closet.
"You don't remember getting so drunk you couldn't tell your head from your ass?" the blonde asked, stomping over to his roommate. "You don't remember me having to drag your fat ass back to our room because you were so out of it you couldn't even walk? You don't remember throwing me against the wall and shoving your tongue down my throat?"
"I remember getting drunk because I made a bet with you," Sasori said, still rustling through his closet to pick out his clothes for the day, which was pointless since he was going to be wearing the cloak that was hanging on the closet doorknob, anyways, "and I remember you having to drag me back to our room," he turned his head to look at Deidara, "but I sure as hell don't remember kissing you, because why would I want to kiss someone like you? Someone who doesn't belong here and should just go on back home and continue making stupid clay sculptures in the dark."
"Sasori…"
"No matter how hard you try to prove your worth to someone, no one is going to care, brat," the redhead whirled around to stare into the blonde's blue eyes. "You think that by coming here, you'll prove to people that you have what it takes to be a force to be reckoned with. But here's the thing…you're still a nobody. You're still at the bottom of the food chain, just like how you were at your high school. People still look over your head and have no idea who 'Deidara' is. I don't care what sort of 'impression' you think you made yesterday in the café, but people forget those little bouts of surprise easily. They get bored, and move on. By tomorrow, no one will have cared that you detonated clay in my face. Just like no one has cared before. So, why would I ever, in my entire life and being, think about kissing someone who will never amount to anything in their life because they will always be known as some trash heap of pointless existence?"
With that, he grabbed his cloak and threw it over his head, making for the door and disappearing down the hallway, leaving Deidara stunned where he stood.
He should have been angry; not even angry, but infuriated. He should have ran after Sasori and beaten him into a pulp. Or strangled him until his face turned blue.
But as he stood there, he did neither of those things. Instead, he felt something break in his chest that he never thought would break.
His heart.
He fell onto his knees, fighting the tears that begged to escape. That stupid, fucking Sasori. Fuck him. Why, out of every person that has ever thought Deidara's art was useless, was Sasori's opinion the one he hated most? Why did he need his roommate's acceptance so much? How could the redhead so easily get under his skin?
Another, louder scream escaped his throat as the answer came forward like a tsunami:
Deidara loved his Danna.