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warning for dubious consent. i apologize for not having prepared you, my readers, for this previously. this story is not fluffy. it is intended to be somewhat unsettling in order to explore that darker facet of humans that evades content and remains in a constant state of irritation.
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Chapter 2
Sasuke will be the first to admit he has a problem. Correction: two problems. The small-
Not small!
-Problem pushing against the tight denim he is modeling is short term. Problematic in front of the camera but otherwise a sign of health. But the fascination-
Not obsession, definitely not obsession.
-With this blonde creature is becoming quite the distraction. Sasuke can't count the number of times he's watched the movies starring the blonde. A lot. But this one and two others are his favorite. They have the same spicy atmosphere and plot, minimal plot, but it's there. Building the characters, the tension between them, the lust, the desire, until it explodes on screen, usually in the form of violent sex. So delicious. And the blonde's expression as he embraces the other man. Sasuke wants those blue eyes, adoring, admiring, worshipping, on him.
He doesn't want them on the blonde's costar. The porn star who just happens to be his brother's crush. Except it's a little more than a crush by now isn't it? After they were introduced- okay, after Sasuke had been scrounging around Itachi's house one evening for a meal only his brother could cook so deliciously and had found the creepy lookalike wearing only boxer briefs and a collar that spoke a thousand words– Sasuke had taken it upon himself to find out who the clone was. His search had led him to find Sai's career and a certain blonde actor he often worked with. And so the obsession has grown. Sasuke can't even tease Itachi anymore about falling in love with a porn star. And screw Foxy for that. Foxy being the fake name for the gorgeous blonde actor. And half of his characters' names. It seems the porn industry is uncreative or unconcerned with originality. Go figure.
Sadly, as awkward as it is to watch the movies with Sai in them, they are among Sasuke's favorites. With his dark-hair, pale skin, lithe muscles, and Sasuke can admit, amazing abs- almost as nice as his own- Sai could be a stand-in for the Uchiha. Those moments where the dark head dips down and that plastered smile-
Such a bad actor.
-disappears from sight. Those are the moments Sasuke pictures himself there, in the scene, living the role of the blonde's heated, overheated, lover.
Fuck. His head falls against the back of his chair. He shifts, trying to relieve the tightness in his groin.
"So Sasuke," Deidara says strolling up to the makeup area. He hoists himself up onto the thin counter. Sasuke lifts an eyebrow as Deidara slides a hand under his ponytail and draws it over his shoulder. "How was your night?" The photographer props one leg up on the other and rests a sketchpad on his ankle. His pencil scratches on the paper in rapid strokes. Both of them ignore the fact that Deidara asked the sulky model a question. For his part, Sasuke glares at him, still tired because it's morning and fuck this hour.
"How does your ass even fit up there? You're like a teenage girl," Sakura scoffs as she clunks her bag down on the already cluttered counter. A tube of lipstick falls to the ground at the impact and rolls into the shadows.
"Huh, you wish you had my ass," Deidara shoots back. "Maybe then you could attract a guy too."
Good point.
Diedara glances at Sasuke for a few seconds before returning to his sketch.
"You're the one!" Sakura accuses. "You turned Sasuke-…" She bites her lip and frowns disapprovingly.
"Sakura," Deidara gasps. "How could you excuse Sasuke of such a-," he smirks. "Dirty pastime?" The only way it could have been more flamboyantly mocking was if the blonde hadn't immediately turned back to his sketch. He smiles rather possessively down at his picture before whipping the sketchpad around and shoving it into Sasuke's face proudly. "I thought we ought to do a little countermeasure. You know, show the public how…" Deidara clamors on but Sasuke's concentration is on the sketch. He squints at it trying to focus his worn eyes. It's a fashion sketch with rough lines and long legs, hip thrust out sassily and shoulders back. But despite the conventional style it's clearly Sasuke. His dark eyes are burning, his nose proud, hair perfect. That's not what Sasuke's concerned with. The suit he is garbed in is customary, classy and stylish. The feathery wings that protrude behind him are not.
"The fuck is this?" Sasuke spits.
"Your outfit for this weekend's show," Deidara states happily.
Sasuke doesn't respond.
"The Yokio show," Deidara prompts. "Saturday?"
"I'm not wearing something with wings. This is for cosplaying girls." He chucks the sketchpad at the blonde's face who catches it and soothes its precious ruffled pages into his lap.
"Nope, it's for you," the photographer chirps. "It'll be good for your image. A sort of friendly response to the graffiti. It's really popular so I'd figure we could use that to boost your-."
"What are you talking about?" Sasuke interrupts impatiently.
Deidara and Sakura both stare at him for a moment. Deidara snorts and rolls his eyes.
"Oh Sasuke," Sakura says pityingly. She picks up her phone from the counter and searches through it before bringing up an online article. She hands it over to the waiting model.
Punk or Art Critic?...
With no eyewitnesses and little to go on police are searching for the saboteur who just last night added a bit of graffiti art to an advertisement poster on the corner of Third and Shaw. The advertisement featured Sasuke Uchiha and Ino Yamanaka modeling a new line from the label DeiDARA. The high-end fashion designer is notorious for his hands-on approach, choosing only the most beautiful models and handling photo shoots himself. But despite his unconventional methods, his typical explosive fashion statements have been conspicuously missing of late. His originality has fizzled into the world of business and money and people are taking note.
The loudest and newest critic it seems will remain anonymous but applauded nonetheless. A criminal our mysterious saboteur may be- but an artist he certainly is. With the popularity of street art on the rise, it is impossible to ignore the attractiveness and poignancy of the spray painted additions to the poster -improvements, one could easily argue, that included covering Yamanaka's frozen and uninspiring expression. Yet our mysterious critic's most prominent mark by far was an enhancement to Uchiha's cool and aristocratic pose. Beautiful, sexy, and desirable, Uchiha's recognition in the fashion world is undeniable. Now, it seems he has risen to new heights. Deemed an angel and sporting a new pair of wings, he-
Sasuke rolls his eyes at the journalist's dramatic flare but can't help smirking at the writer's criticism of Deidara's recent project and at the tangled cartoonish monsters that grow over Ino's body and blanked out face. He doesn't know how to feel about the angelic wings that emerge from his own body.
"What are you looking at?" Ino demands from his side. She tosses her purse into her own chair and leans over his arm. Sasuke dumps the phone in her palm.
"Ew. Why are you looking at this?" she shrills. "It's awful! Whoever did this should be put in jail!"
"It's better than what he was looking at yesterday," Sakura mutters under her breath.
"Just be grateful they didn't paint anything unsavory on it," Deidara says. He's examining Sasuke's face closely. Sasuke raises an eyebrow at his scrutiny. Deidara just smiles.
"Unsavory?" Ino asks perplexed.
Sakura rolls her eyes as she lines Ino's eyes. "Like a dick," she clues the blonde model in.
Sasuke can't keep the smirk from his lips.
"It's not funny!" Ino cries at him. "You're in it too, you know!"
Sasuke smiles. "But Ino, I like di-."
Sakura grabs his chin and yanks his face to the front. She slathers on some more unnecessary makeup. "You were named an angel by our faceless critic. Don't say anything crass to ruin the image," Sakura growls.
"Would I do that?" Sasuke asks with a spark of nasty slyness in his narrowed eyes.
"Please," Sakura all but growls out sarcastically, annoyed at the raven. "Sasuke, how much sleep have you been getting?"
Deidara snickers.
Sasuke's brows crease. "Why do you ask?"
She rubs some cream under his eyes. "You look tired. I can cover it up easily enough but watch yourself."
"Sure."
Do angels even get tired?
"I'm tired. No," Naruto corrects. "I'm exhausted." He's lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, cell to his ear. His free hand thumps down onto the rumpled sheets.
"Really," Kakashi states over the phone in an unimpressed drawl. "And why is that?"
"Uh, you know," Naruto says absently as he watches a tongue dart at the tip of his middle finger. The wet pink muscle retreats and lips encase the fingertip, sucking at the blood beneath the skin. "I had to take my aunt to the hospital last night."
"Naruto, after all the funerals you've claimed to have gone to you can't possibly have any aunts left alive."
"Kakashi…" Naruto whines. The dark-haired man in his bed is sliding the thin sheet down Naruto's hips. His mouth leaves Naruto's finger and his tongue trails lightly over Naruto's stomach. "Work's been really hard lately. I just think it might be a good idea for me and Sai to have a break. Away from each other."
"You're not in a relationship Naruto, you're actors."
"Yeah, but we're acting like we're in a relationship." The mouth is lowering onto his cock now, laving saliva over him. His guest's brown eyes shimmer mischievously as he moves up and down Naruto's dick.
They should be darker.
"Naruto-."
His guest- What's his name again? Eh…-has the darkest of hair and Naruto gladly cords his fingers into it. He tugs the head closer to his body, rolling his hips from the mattress and levering himself further into his mouth. He can tell the young man is having some trouble not gagging but Naruto remains relentless in pushing his cock down the other man's throat. Happily, his guest doesn't complain.
"You aren't even listening are you?"
"Uh."
"Naruto I respect your artistic license but this is the real world- a world that exists outside the bedroom where it's not really a duty to fuck a man into the next life just because he begs you to. Do you understand?"
"Yes!" Naruto snaps. The angry word is accompanied by a sharp thrust, but somehow the game involving his dick and a mouth isn't as pleasing anymore. It's just a compulsion to finish, to throw off the heat that's consuming his body.
"With that being said," Kakashi continues, "I'm happy to inform you that you have the day off thanks to Sai."
"What?" Naruto asks distracted. "What's up with S-Sai?"
"He put in a request for the day off. Apparently he feels inadequate for this part and so is taking the initiative to speak to the screenwriter about it to discuss the character. You might get better as well if you speak to him," Kakashi says pointedly.
Naruto's hips are jerking frantically fast. His fist is tight in the guy's dark hair, probably pulling it out while forcing his head to do what he wants. His too-light eyes are effectively hidden. "Not- uh!- likely." The last word is panted. The man is swallowing Naruto's cum. Naruto shifts away from him. The sheets cling to his itchy and sensitive skin. He fights a wave of inexplicable annoyance.
"Right," Kakashi drawls. "Because that sounded like such an enjoyable experience. What did you last, a whole half minute? I'm sure your fans would love to see a display like that onscreen."
"Shut the fuck up you don't even know what happened," Naruto growls. His guest is too close to him. He slides against Naruto's side. The blonde can feel the heat from his body on his sweaty skin. He shoves the man away, gesturing towards the discarded clothes on the floor in an obvious message for him to leave. "You think some pervy writer could teach me anything? He probably doesn't even get any. That's why he has to imagine and write about it instead." Naruto spares an apologetic and, though not visibly so, utterly fake smile for his guest. The unhappy man rallies slightly at the spark of hope.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Kakashi says amused. "My guess would be that he's a better dom than you Naruto.
"Yeah right," Naruto scoffs. He grabs the now dressed man by his bed and tugs him into a sloppy mouth-clunking kiss. "Leave me your number, won't you?" he whispers hot breath into the man's ear. His request is granted and thankfully the man leaves. "Do you think he jerks off to his own stories?" he asks his director. "Like when he watches it?"
Kakashi gives a small laugh of expelled air. "You're not listening. I don't think the man who wrote this one needs any of that. He's quite famous."
"I've never heard of him."
"Obviously he uses a penname for this sort of work."
"Oh."
"I'd be surprised if you haven't actually run into each other yet. Like I said, he gets plenty and your own habits put you in the same vicinity often enough."
"Well, what's his real name?"
"That's confidential. An idiot like you could end up telling everyone and ruining his daylight career."
Naruto growls. "I'm not an idiot, no matter what you say. I can keep a secret."
"Best to not risk it. I'll see you tomorrow Naruto."
"Asshole!" Naruto shouts at the dial tone.
Sai wakes in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. A white comforter is drawn up to his chin. He sits up. Late morning light is streaming into the room. Sai is in the middle of the king-sized bed. The sheets around him are untouched. He slides from the bed naked and finds his clothes folded on a nightstand. Beside them is a picture frame. Two young raven-haired boys smile at him. The elder is clearly Itachi. Sai picks it up, his thumb covering the second boy. His phone buzzes and he sets the picture back down. He has one call from his director and two loud texts from his costar demanding to know where he is and the name of who he's with.
He leaves the room dressed in jeans and tight black shirt. The door to the room they were in last night, the one they usually use, is open. Sai glances in, bringing his fingers to his throat. It's bruised and still sore.
Passed that is Itachi's office. The beautiful man is there, writing at his computer. His back, his long hair, is to Sai. Sai's gaze is drawn to Itachi's fingers, long and mesmerizing, typing quickly at the keyboard. They pause and hover above the keys.
"You are awake," Itachi speaks. He turns his chair to face Sai.
Sai nods unsure of what to say.
"I called Mr. Hatake," Itachi says. "And informed him that you needed the day off. I got carried away last night," he admits. "I didn't intend to leave such a heavy mark on a day you have shooting. If…if you no longer find our arrangement agreeable tell me."
Sai doesn't respond. Itachi observes the man. He is standing in the doorway, expressionless but for his eyes. They are cautious. The skin around Sai's neck is mottled with purple and black. "Come here," Itachi commands. Sai obeys automatically.
Awkwardly he stands in front of Itachi. Itachi touches a light finger to the bruise. Sai flinches. "Stay here," Itachi mutters. He leaves the office and returns a minute later with a round container of cream and a jacket. "Sit," Itachi says because Sai is still standing.
Sai sits in the chair and turns his chin up to gaze at Itachi. Itachi ties his hair up and throws it over his shoulder. He bends forward and begins to apply the cream to the bruise with a feathery touch.
"This ought to help it heal quicker," Itachi murmurs.
"That was your bedroom." The observation comes out as a croak. Sai's voice is grainy and worn.
"Yes," Itachi replies simply.
"Why didn't you leave me in our-," Sai frowns and backtracks. "In the room we use?"
"That bed was mostly wrecked by the time you drifted off. I thought you would sleep more comfortably elsewhere." Itachi doesn't add that he himself slept infinitely more comfortably after he had brought Sai into his own bed with him.
"I stayed longer than I should have. I'm sorry to have troubled you." Sai says it with an apologetic, plastered on smile.
"It was bound to happen eventually," Itachi reasons. He rubs a last bit of cream on to the side of Sai's neck. "I push you hard and I didn't mind. It's satisfying to know I wore even you out for once." Itachi smiles at him but Sai's fake smile fades into something else and Itachi's fades as well. He's never even seen Sai in the light of day before today and it makes his chest ache.
"I read your book," Sai states out of the blue.
Itachi regards him for a moment. He wipes a finger of extra cream against the edge of the container and screws the lid back on. "I wasn't aware you knew my penname."
"Your brother told it to me."
"Did you ask him for it?" Itachi asks surprised.
Sai refuses a response.
Itachi sets the cream aside and leans against his desk. Sai isn't looking at him anymore. "I hope he warned you the ending sucks."
Sai is frowning. "I thought it was nice."
Itachi is again surprised. He tugs at the end of his ponytail, meeting Sai's gaze. "Did you find it realistic then?"
"…I don't know."
"I've wondered at your ability to tell fiction from reality. For you, who can hardly recognize human emotions, everything must seem illogical. If that's the case fiction must be just as plausible as reality. Do you think that's true?"
"No. I know what's onstage isn't real."
"I'm not just talking about your job. People are acting, pretending, all the time. Sai, last night, were you able to recognize the difference between what was real and what was merely the scene?"
"It was all real."
"In a way yes. But when I hold a knife to your throat, do you believe I'd kill you?"
"I believe you'd cut me."
"But you trust me not to hurt you irreparably. You believe me when I tell you have the scene under control, that I have my aggression under control."
"You do," Sai affirms.
"That's just it Sai. The control is the act. It's not real." He looks Sai in the eye, trying to convey the truth in his words. "I don't think you understand how close you were to truly being in danger last night," Itachi says. "I got completely out of hand and took advantage of you. I apologize." Itachi breaks their intense gaze and reaches for the jacket he brought in. He tosses it to Sai. "That should cover the bruise."
Sai stands and slides the jacket on. "I don't understand you," Sai says, and is it Itachi's imagination? It must be, but Sai sounds almost scared.
"Keep the jacket," Itachi says.
"I'll bring it back next time."
"Don't worry about it," Itachi says softly and smiles a little.
Unsure, Sai leaves the office, and house, quickly. Outside he glances back at the beautifully arranged house. The daylight is flashing off the glass windows. It's warm out but Sai tugs the collar of Itachi's jacket up higher and breathes in the scent of a lush garden and a beautiful man. Wrapped in this scent, he can easily ignore the burning sun.
The lights are burning artificially bright. But the heat is regrettably authentic. It's bathing Naruto in unbearable heat. The cloth over his face sticks to his skin. He squirms but the dangling walkway he's perched on rocks with the restless motion. He sneaks a hand beneath his mask and scratches his itchy skin. He kicks at a loose wire of some sort. There are cords for a ridiculous amount of technical equipment, tangled and making a rat's nest above the stage. Below him the Yokio fashion show is in full swing. He's been staring at the passing models for ages and waiting. Waiting, waiting for the one.
He has an urge to hum to pass the time. He certainly doesn't find this display of human flesh and expensive cloth as fascinating as the audience.
Finally his angel emerges from backstage. Naruto is the first to lay eyes on him, lurking as he is above the stage. He whistles lowly under his breath in appreciation. His eyes track the model's every move. No matter where he flies the angel will be watched. And he is an angel. The tips of his black feathers bounce and drag onto the runway with each stride. His oxfords touch down just as lightly, as if the wings truly are holding his weight. The high collar of his suit and his ruffled hair completes the perfect sulkily dark prince.
Naruto grins. So they took my suggestion.
As he watches the smooth walk- and good god those hips- Naruto notices a blonde man in the audience. He has long hair that shields one eye but he's brushing it out of the way and lifting his camera to take a picture of his angel. It's not that Naruto is possessive- not really. He just wants to fuck the man. Still…
As the model strides down the stage Naruto lifts his sleek toy to eyelevel and only then realizes that the ovals for his eyes are crooked. He yanks on it to straighten it before fixating on the model once more. The long nozzle of the sniper gun gleams as Naruto gazes down the scope. He follows the model's progress until he's at the very end of the stage, the spot for a sweeping turn and exuding arrogance into the audience. It's at this point that Naruto fires off four quick shots, past the angel's wings and into the crowd of journalists and stuffy fashion snobs who dressed with their eyes shut. The first one hits the long-haired blonde photographer. Or, well, his camera. Hee. The whoosh of air from the barrel of the gun is nonexistent under the sound of cameras flashing, but even those are drowned out as an outraged screech starts up a symphony of chaos.
Naruto grins down at the swarms of panicking people.
You'd think I'd shot them.
All four of his targets have splotches of red to ruin or add character to their outfits, depending on point of view.
The wings are ruffling, turning, swishing. The angel alone finds him on his shadowy perch. It's fate or instinct or something, a connection that thrills Naruto to his core. It's only them. Naruto meets his dark eyes unabashed before grinning down to him, an acknowledgement of his cleverness, and lifting his gun once more. There is a spark of something in the model's eyes, something that's different from his arrogance, his confidence, his fakery. He takes an uncertain step back.
Fear. Mmm.
Naruto fires a shot at his feet. A splatter of paint dots his prissy oxfords. The next shot is aimed for his heart and hits spot on. He winces at the sting of the hit before lifting a delicate hand to feel the wetness. His eyes flash, anger this time, and directed at Naruto. Naruto whirls from his post and disappears into the shadows. On his way down the metal walkway he yanks a handful of cords out of a black box.
The last thing Sasuke sees before the auditorium is plunged into black is the back of the perpetrator. He catches enough of a glimpse of the masked saboteur to note that he is most definitely a man. Not that Sasuke particularly cares after being shot at, regardless if it was merely paintballs, but the man has a nice figure. Broad shouldered and if he isn't graceful he certainly has a balance and natural confidence in his movements. Well, maybe his sexiness is helped by the fact he was pointing a gun at Sasuke. Maybe adrenaline was overpowering his mind just as blood was racing through his veins and if all that blood ended up in a particular place, well. Perhaps he should be glad the masked man cut the lights.
But all those thoughts, and really just a jolt of the arousal-adrenaline duo, spark and die in a second and then it's only Sasuke's anger. His eyes are adjusting. He can see the red of one, two, three exit signs and the barest glow of something backstage. He races towards it, unclipping the ridiculous wings on his back. They fall to the stage.
The behind-the-scenes crew is as frantic as the mass of tittering audience members. Sasuke brushes past them not really caring at this point. The show is over, ruined. Sasuke doesn't really mind that part but like hell he'll let someone shoot him and get away with it.
He finds the only still lit hallway and stops abruptly. It's the one leading to the dressing and makeup areas. It's…strange. The row of fluorescent lights is beckoning him. He's sure it isn't paranoia. His fingers curl into fists and with a rash decision he stalks down the hall and slams open the door to his personal dressing room.
It's empty. But…the light is glowing dimly. Still on.
The first step into the room is all it takes. The door slams and a heavy mass hits his back, propelling him forward. The momentum smashes him into the makeup counter. He grunts and arcs his back, throwing his shoulders up and back to try to wrestle the man away. But there's a strong arm wrapped around his chest and between that, the counter, and the chest pressing against him he's locked in. His left arm is yanked behind his body and shoved high. His shoulder burns with the jerk to the muscle. He kicks back and hears a curse of pain. A hand grabs his hair and slams his forehead into the mirror.
"Fuck, calm down." In complete contrast to the violence, the tone of his assaulter's voice is quiet. More exasperated than angry. Sasuke glares in the mirror. A cloth fox mask grins absurdly back at him. Black marker outlines sharp teeth bared in a frightening smile. Two very human, and very blue eyes meet his gaze. The corners crinkle as if he's smiling. Or smirking. A hum emerges from the fox. Something -a leg by the way the fox's weight shifts forward- forces itself between Sasuke's thighs. "Even that bratty glare looks good on you," the fox murmurs. The leg rubs between his legs and Sasuke can feel the man pressing against his ass.
"Would you be so kind as to tell me why you're molesting me," Sasuke spits out.
The fox laughs. "Don't you know?" Sasuke grits his teeth as the man rolls his hips- and a bump that's making itself very familiar- into Sasuke's behind. "I'm your critic Sa-asuke," the man sings. "So I'm critiquing you! You're at least a nine."
Sasuke can't help the scoff that comes from his throat. Nine my ass.
"Arrogant bastard," the man remarks. "Only one way to find out." The arm around Sasuke's chest retreats and reappears at his belt buckle. Sasuke swings his free arm around, elbow first but the man just takes the hit. He's too close for Sasuke too get enough power into the attack. But it must still bruise because the fox doesn't take too it kindly. The leg between Sasuke's shoves forward and up and Sasuke growl as it drives his hipbones into the hard counter. His other arm is yanked higher for good measure.
Nimble fingers unlatch his belt. It clanks as it falls. The leg rubs forward, starting to saw back and forth as his button and zipper is opened and then a hand is sneaking in over his briefs. The counter is hurting Sasuke's hips but he doesn't want to rock back and make the fox think he actually likes this.
"Relax," the fox instructs, sighing the word into his ear. The hand rubs him gently, heating his entire body.
Sasuke flinches when he catches something in the corner of his eye. A chin rests lazily on his shoulder. He's growing hard. There's warm moisture in his briefs. The friction of the cloth rubbing between his own flesh and the man's fingers is lessening. Sasuke glares into blue eyes, challenging him despite the fact that they can both feel his reaction to the fox's hand. He's sure the blue-eyed man is grinning beneath the cloth.
The man release Sasuke's hard shaft to wrestle down his pants- no easy feat with one hand and Sasuke doesn't even fight it. He almost wishes he had when a hand slides down his asscheek and parts him. A finger brushes his hole and he jolts because so help him god if this stranger even thinks of taking him…
"Stop glaring," a voice murmurs silkily. "We both know it's nothing you haven't done before."
"Fuck you," Sasuke snarls.
The man hums, an amused laugh in the sound. A fingertip teases the edges of his hole. "I think-." The finger shoves into him and Sasuke growls in anger. "-it's you who'll be fucked." The chin digs into the muscle of his shoulder and Sasuke flinches. The finger twirls inside him. "You're tight," he comments happily. "You been neglecting back here?"
In fact, Sasuke hasn't been but it's been a private, solitary sort of attention.
"Someone hasn't been getting any," the fox sings as the finger withdraws shallower. "No wonder you look so lonely," he murmurs.
"Who's lonely here?" Sasuke demands. "You realize you're the one giving off a kind of desperate air."
The finger stops. "You're more annoying than I thought you'd be. Like really fucking annoying."
"Sorry to disappoint," Sasuke says sarcastically.
"I mean, it is kinda small but I wouldn't call it a disappointment," the fox says fakely cordial as he gives Sasuke's dick a squeeze.
Sasuke growls and tries to push him away. The attempt fails. Miserably.
"Settle down little cherub," the fox says with a sharp slap to Sasuke's bottom.
He thinks his shoulder is just about dislocated. At any rate, it's prickly with blood loss and pained with muscle strain and bone grinding and nerve pinching. That is to say it hurts. He stops struggling almost immediately and the fox surely notices his decreasing rate of resistance.
"Get off!" he howls uselessly.
The fox shakes his head fiercely from side to side. A cloth ear slaps Sasuke and his cheeks grow red. "I think you'll like this," the fox replies. His free hand fumbles to slip a length of silk over Sasuke's eyes. It's clear very early on that tying the blindfold will be nearly impossible one-handed. The fox whines in disappointment. "Promise me you'll behave, won't you?"
"Like hell!" Sasuke snarls.
"Ple-ease?" his assaulter begs.
Sasuke growls.
"Well I was hoping not to have to do this," the fox says and immediately contradicts himself, "Heh, no I've been hoping you'd give me an excuse." Sasuke hears the soft tink of metal sliding on metal. "Feisty bastard." Sasuke hears and feels it click onto the wrist held against his back. Then his already pressured arm is twisted down abruptly. A tan hand has his other wrist in a death grip and is yanking it behind his body to join the other. Another click. Sasuke yanks his hands apart but the chain on the cuffs is short and apparently sturdy.
"Beautiful!" the fox exclaims at his work. He picks the ribbon of silk back up from the counter where he'd deposited it and settles it over Sasuke's eyes. His vision is stolen. That's when he really starts to panic. He throws his shoulder's back and forth trying to shake the strong man behind him. He feels a hand against his groin and kicks back.
"You're so hard." The hand rubs. "You like being dominated don'tcha? Ah fuck, you're hard as a rock." There's a moan and the man rolls his hips into Sasuke's ass as the hand fondles him. "I bet everyone else falls for your dom act, huh?"
The voice is soft. Without his vision Sasuke is left to focus on the voice and the feel of this man. He feels breathy at the loss. When the hand brushes him in a particularly pleasurable stroke an accidental hiccup of a moan escapes his throat.
Abruptly, an arm presses into his gut and he's lifted from the floor and turned. He's shoved onto a hard surface- the counter. He can feel the mirror behind him with his bound hands. Hands pull off his pants and briefs. He hears the cloth slide off the counter and fall to the floor. His legs are shoved apart and immediately heat and wetness enclose his erection. His throat overturns a near-silent rush of air. There are a few strokes with the mouth, a tongue, and then it withdraws.
Delayed, he realizes the man must have his mask off. Suddenly the blindfold is even more constricting. He wants to see.
"Easy, cherub, stop squirming." A palm lies on his stomach. The cloth slides and scrunches against his abdomen and cool air hits his skin. Warm breath and the barest touch of skin brushes against him and travels down.
Sasuke relaxes his body into the cool glass of the mirror as the mouth works over him, waiting for the friction to build to that unbearable point once more. His mind wanders back to the man licking him and what little he knows of him. A finger worms into his hole and he winces.
"Relax gorgeous," his critic says sounding rather amused and sarcastic at Sasuke's attempt to get away from the intrusion. His ankle is yanked, pulling him flatter and more open on the counter. The finger curls deeper, scraping dryly against his insides. The mouth suctions his head.
"You're pathetic," Sasuke comments. "Fucking me like a slut just to get a taste of fame. You're a parasite."
His cock is left wet and cooling in open air once more.
"Ya know I can't tell if you're more annoyed at being fingered or if you're still stuck on that lonely comment."
"I'm not lonely," Sasuke says.
"Sure you're not."
Sasuke can almost hear the eye roll. "I already said this, but you're the desperate one."
"Maybe. But I know fame doesn't make you not alone, and I can tell you're lonelier than me. Your dick is certainly begging for some attention." A tongue flicks against it and Sasuke winces at the sensitivity. "And your narcissism makes it obvious- you're yearning for some sort of attention that you can't get."
"And you think you're good enough?" Sasuke sneers.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But-." A hand travels down Sasuke's abdomen and wraps around his shaft. "I'm certainly good enough for this little guy."
"Fuck you," Sasuke mutters, though there's little venom to his words.
Deidara venomously wipes the red paint from his cheek and flicks it violently from his fingertip to the floor. His face is contorted in disgust. The tips of his bangs are coated and sticky with red paint. And yet…the commotion may just have been worth it. There are a dozen incredible photographs stored now in his camera. After the shots the audience had erupted in panic. Amidst all that the angel on stage had vanished, leaving behind only a pair of black wings. That calm nothingness on stage, accented by red splattered dots, and surrounded by a background of an indignant frenzy was simply beautiful. It is guaranteed to catch some impressive press coverage. Now he just has to find his model to make sure he had disappeared from the catwalk by his own accord and wasn't really kidnapped or something.
The auditorium is being evacuated with floodlights someone had scrounged up but the circuit for the main lights is still off. Still Deidara skirts the masses and ends up in an eerily deserted backstage. The crews must have escaped to the sunlight outside. He notices a dim light in one of the hallways and follows it, hoping to find Sasuke in his dressing room.
Dearie me, what have I stumbled upon?
Deidara notes, as he pushes the door to Sasuke's dressing room open, that the what he has stumbled upon is Sasuke being thoroughly mouth-fucked on the counter.
A blonde man has Sasuke's hips lifted in the air as the blindfolded raven bucks. Lips drenched with spit and precum are locked on to Sasuke's manhood. The fingers of the blonde's right hand are buried in Sasuke's ass. Light blue eyes meet darker. The darker widen and the hand supporting Sasuke's lower back falls away and his dick slips from that wonderful heat.
"Fucking hell," Sasuke snarls.
There's a pause as the Aryans observe one another. Deidara immediately notices the man's handsome features and can't help but compare- or, really, contrast- his beauty to Sasuke's. The blonde's cheekbones are soft elegant curves next to Sasuke's prominent angles. His skin is gold against Sasuke's cream. They make a fine pair.
Sasuke tilts his head, clearly trying to figure out what the man is doing- and why the hell he stopped. The blonde is frozen.
Deidara smiles. He lays a finger to his smirking lips and closes the door.
Sasuke's head whips his way at the sound of the click. "What's going on?" he demands harshly. He twists his bound hands awkwardly. The handsome blonde lays a hand on his inner thigh, rubbing the skin tenderly even as he watches Deidara.
The photographer settles against the wall. He's fiddling with a lens, quietly of course. He meets the blonde's eyes again daring him to do something. The sexy man smirks suddenly, clearly accepting the voyeur's presence. He turns back to the so beautifully bound model. "Cherub," he sighs against Sasuke's cheek.
Cherub? Sasuke?
The stranger's soft lips light on Sasuke's jawline and nibble their way up the curve of the bone. Sasuke must be impatient because he turns his mouth towards the looming presence. Their lips line up perfectly as Sasuke mashes his mouth into the other's, hard. Deidara is struck how perfect they look together, how ideal. Their bodies are working together to form the perfect image. Even with Sasuke blindfolded, it's has if he's instinctually moving to create the perfect photo.
Rule #18 When working with multiple subjects decide the point of focus.
Fuck, that's hard. Both of them are so…dominant.
Deidara fiddles with the focus on the lens. Should it be Sasuke's blindfolded eyes? The blonde's hand still on Sasuke's thigh? That patch of red paint over Sasuke's heart? The eerie cloth mask, discarded beside the kissing couple? Or maybe the kiss itself. Those locked lips. Their pace has slowed almost assuredly because of the blonde's patiently thorough mouth molding to Sasuke's. His tongue is pushing into Sasuke's lips. His jaw moves slowly with the calming tonguing. The kiss sounds wet. Unconsciously Deidara licks his own lips. He's working quickly to document every moment, every movement within his camera. The kiss ends with a slurp. A finger brushes the corner of Sasuke's mouth, smearing saliva on his skin.
Mmmmm.
There's a shift. The blonde sends a fugitive glance towards Deidara, whose only response is a light smirk. Then the blonde's mouth is back to Sasuke's cock.
Mm, fuck yeah.
That blonde head buried in Sasuke's groin. Sasuke's head thrown back. His bound hands smearing moisture on to the mirror, dirty and hot. Perhaps the only thing that could improve the scene was if Sasuke truly was an angel. If black wings sprouted from his back, rumpled and crunched against the glass surface. If the man hunched over his cock was truly a demon, eating more than just Sasuke's pleasure.
Deidara even catches the moment Sasuke comes. His neck is curved, his lips parted. The air is left stagnant in his throat for that instant of enveloping pleasure, the rush of chemicals that let him forget to breathe.
The blonde leaves the raven there, bound and panting and sweaty. His tongue runs over swollen lips, wiping evidence from his skin. Deidara flashes another picture of Sasuke abandoned there in that shaky post-orgasmic moment. The blonde approaches him.
"Don't tell anyone," a gruff voice orders next to his ear.
Deidara smiles. "Sure thing," he whispers before half-mouthing, "Foxy."
"You know who-!?"
Deidara lays a finger to his curled lips again commanding silence. The panicky porn star glances back at Sasuke once before ducking out of the room. Deidara decides to watch Sasuke struggling with his bondage before helping. Just for a while.