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Deidara wasn’t the jealous type. Never had been, never would be. People and their shit just didn’t interest him enough, and on the rare occasions that they did, he had the means to take what he wanted for himself (usually—except for his hang up regarding Uchiha Itachi, but he didn’t like to dwell on it) (openly, that is). Stuck in a mystical swamp with Akasuna no Sasori and no one else for weeks was business as usual, and Deidara wanted for nothing from his longtime partner. They had long ago perfected their dynamic into a mutual domestication of sorts: Sasori minded their plans and Deidara minded their rapport, and together they executed. It was honest, it was efficient, and it worked.
Until Haruno Sakura had to go and kill Sasori and trigger some incendiary obsession in him the likes of which Deidara had never seen in their years together. There was a mythical quality to Sasori’s focus on that woman, hidden in a secret place until she stepped into the room with blood on her lips and power in her fists—like she’d found the g-spot of his personality and pressed hard. Next to Sakura, Deidara couldn’t help but wonder where he’d fallen short.
But he wasn’t jealous; what he was, was curious.
Deidara treaded carefully over the nightingale floors, their chirping a hounding chorus as he paced. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the appeal. On the contrary, she was—well, he wouldn’t say she was his type. She was nice and normal and wholly lacking in any type of obsessive qualities herself. But Sakura in the context of Sasori, in the realm of this haven Sasori had secured for all three of them, she was…
A low thud against the wall a floor above and a woman’s muted whining tempted Deidara’s thoughts to a side of Sakura only Sasori could see. He stared a hole at the ceiling, pretending not to strain to hear the sounds of their fucking, imagining Sasori pinning her against the wall.
“I bet you fuck like you fight, yeah,” he said to himself. Intense, all-out, greedy for attention—attention Sasori had always afforded her so much of when they were working (if Deidara wanted anything from her, surely it was that power she held, specifically).
Yeah, Deidara could see the appeal.
He just kind of wished he didn’t.
It was bound to happen. The house was not so big, and Sasori was not the type for modesty in his own domain. Deidara would be lying to say he hadn’t cut a few corners himself, wandering where he wasn’t immediately needed or wanted. But, really, if they were going to leave the shoji parted for anyone to walk by and see them, it was as much an invitation as anything.
Deidara just hadn’t expected it to be like this.
The curiosity that had been simmering under his skin the last few days since he’d brought Sakura here and she’d saved Sasori’s life from Orochimaru’s poisoning boiled to a breaking point now. Meaning, Deidara felt his self-control shatter to see Sakura sat fully on Sasori’s lap, her thighs split wide to take the full thrust of his cock as she moaned around his fingers in her mouth.
They weren’t even fully naked, their yukata hastily parted where the clothing made itself an impediment, as if they were so desperate to feel each other that they couldn’t be bothered with the extra time it would take to divest properly. Sakura’s long hair shimmered between her breasts, which were barely concealed beneath the violet lapels of her yukata as Sasori pulled her down hard with a wet slap that Deidara felt deep in his ballsack.
He was frozen to the spot, arrested watching them, his body in full betrayal and caught in an overwhelming thrall of longing that only intensified at the sound of Sasori’s voice in Sakura’s ear.
“Look at you, Sakura,” he crooned, all knives and honey, “stuffed full of my cock and still begging for it like a good girl.” He threatened her jawline with his teeth, and Deidara had to cover his mouth not to whimper at the sight.
Sasori moved the hand that wasn’t busy filling Sakura’s mouth along the part in her yukata, revealing a thick scar just below her ribcage. When he pressed his fingers against it, she threw her head back and whined around him, sensitive. “Maybe I should keep you like this, ruined and beautiful for me.”
Deidara had never heard Sasori speak like this, so molten and raw. He was not prepared for how deeply it would affect him just watching and listening, hearing those words for himself. He wasn’t sure when he’d begun to stroke himself through his pants, the mouths on his hands open and slick with a rising fever.
Damn, if he’d just called me a good boy like that, maybe I would’ve agreed with him more often.
The thought made him groan, but he bit it down and swallowed. Surely, they wouldn’t have heard him, being so focused on each other—
“Deidara,” Sakura said, and hell, but Deidara couldn’t believe he’d almost lived and died not hearing his name in her winded, cock-stuffed voice. Gorgeous.
Sasori had pulled his fingers from Sakura’s mouth, and she was looking right at Deidara, flushed and breathing hard and stunning like he’d never seen her before.
“Fuck,” Deidara swore, hoarse and hard enough to hurt a bit now that he had them both watching him. He scrambled to shut the shoji door, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pulled on it. The telltale glow of Sasori’s chakra threads held it in place.
Deidara sputtered for something to say—not an apology (it was their own fucking fault for leaving the door open like this), but at least a complaint to keep it down. He never got the chance as Sasori’s threads pulled at him, opened the shoji door, and walked his ass into the room.
The first thing Deidara noticed was the smell: ylang-ylang and sandalwood and sex. They’d been at it a while already. The second thing he noticed was the mirror facing them and reflecting every bounce Sakura made on Sasori’s lap back at them both. You narcissistic bitch. Not Sakura, Sasori (unless…?).
A beat passed as they all looked at each other. Sakura bit her reddened lip, and Sasori’s gaze briefly dropped to the tent in Deidara’s pants.
“Well?” Sasori said simply, like this was just another day of his time being wasted.
“Uh,” Deidara stammered.
Sakura’s smile was anything but kind as she held her hand out to him, offering. Like the cuntstruck idiot he was, Deidara just stared at her open invitation, not quite sure this was real.
“On your knees, brat,” Sasori commanded, but it was sharper and quieter than the parlance he normally reserved for Deidara.
Oh.
Oh?!
Deidara didn’t need Sasori’s strings to guide him this time. He sank to his knees before them and took Sakura’s hand, tongue out and lapping in his horny excitement that this was really happening. She gasped at the slippery feel between their hands, and for a smarting second he thought he’d grossed her out.
Until Sakura brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it, totally shameless. He felt her tongue on his, velvet and eager, as she watched him from between his fingers. It lasted only a moment, and a moment was all it took for Deidara to lose one of his three remaining braincells to Sakura’s willing mouth (he wondered what else she’d be willing to do with that mouth).
“I knew these had to be good for something other than blowing shit up,” she murmured around his lips, playful and so, so game.
Gods, but he could have kissed her properly then.
Sasori’s chuckle drew Deidara’s attention and stole his breath. There was a gravity about him like this, low and needling, like bamboo creeping under his fingernails. It reminded Deidara that this was Sasori, who killed as easily as he breathed and cared for no one but himself and the few he invited over the threshold of his event horizon to be drowned in his singular, crushing attention. Deidara hadn’t felt the true pull of him when they’d first been partnered up; it was subtle and insidious and so unlike Itachi’s overwhelming magnetism, which was at once infuriating and oblivious. Sasori’s pull was the kind Deidara didn’t notice until it had long sunk its fangs into him, and he was lost without ever having stood a chance against it.
“Fuck,” Deidara said, stupidly. He had never felt more stupid and more powerful than he did kneeling before Sasori and Sakura.
“That’s the idea,” Sasori said.
Sakura choked when Sasori rolled his hips and fucked her deeper. With her went Deidara’s last shred of sanity, and he moved. He wanted to see her unravel, the kunoichi who had enthralled Sasori, the most unapologetically son-of-a-bitch person Deidara had ever known and respected, split her open and see the true shape of her as Sasori did.
Like Sasori sensed his determination, they locked eyes, that quiet, unspoken understanding they had developed over years of trust or die passing between them. It was all the permission Deidara needed to roll back the sleeve of his haori and slip his hand around the base of Sasori’s cock where it speared into Sakura and kiss.
“Ah, Deidara,” Sakura whimpered to feel him tonguing her clit as Sasori stuffed her full. Her hands were all over him—in his hair, parting his haori to palm his chest, the scar where his ultimate jutsu used to dwell until Sasori remade him.
He was right in her face, her nipples brushing his bared chest, but he didn’t kiss her yet, opting to watch instead as he sucked on her clit while Sasori fucked her to fulfillment. “Yeah, babe?” he taunted, feeling a little bit fantastic.
That is, until Sasori moved his hand to her breast and squeezed, and she threw her head back against his shoulder. Deidara locked eyes with Sasori then and shuddered—in challenge, in temptation (is that all you’ve got?).
Deidara had long ago forsaken any urge to best Sasori, knowing it was a fruitless endeavor. Why compete when he could collaborate? But Sasori’s brand of shit or get off the pot leadership also made Deidara eager to show Sasori what he could do, desperate to be taken seriously by the one person who looked at him and saw something worth his time and attention. And after a lifetime of being berated and condescended to, that uncompromising expectation of excellence was the kind of flex he could fuck with.
And also fuck, apparently.
“Aight,” Deidara said, curling his fingers around Sasori’s balls and squeezing gently.
The effect was immediate and brutal. Deidara was not prepared for the sight of Sasori and Sakura making out like they were running out of time to bask in each other. He’d seen glimpses of their tethering before, but this was more. He wasn’t even sure what to call it, this mutual obsession between them, only that Sasori hissed against her lips when Deidara kneaded his balls just a little bit harder as his tongue worked the stretch of real estate between the base of Sasori’s cock and Sakura’s swollen clit.
“Right in front of me, huh,” Deidara said, half joking and fully desperate.
It was Sakura who broke their kiss but Sasori who made her regret it with a savage thrust that sent her collapsing onto Deidara’s shoulder with a cry. “Sasori,” she panted as she clung to Deidara.
But Sasori was looking at Deidara as he fucked her, those bedroom eyes as alluring as a big, red do not press button on a bomb, and Deidara had never been more tantalized.
He was doomed before he’d ever set foot in this room, so he figured he might as well go out with a bang. He gave Sasori’s balls a greedy tug and leaned in to kiss him like he’d wanted to do since he’d learned Sasori had chosen Sakura over him.
Sasori slipped a hand around the nape of his neck and and kissed him back without hesitation, tongue and teeth and me me me, and Deidara obliged him as he always had. And like everything Sasori did, even in this he excelled, dominated, made Deidara dizzy and taffy-spun like he might disintegrate for the want of this. Sakura squirmed in between them, and Deidara held her steady with a tight fist in her hair.
She was the loudest of them, incidentally, moaning and breathy as they pressed her between them. Sasori swallowed everything Deidara gave him in near silence, the steely bastard, and in turn channeled that passion rutting into Sakura until she was sloppy and coming on his cock. Deidara tasted her release in his hand-mouth as he cupped her, groaning into Sasori’s mouth as she rode out her pleasure.
And then, she did a very bad thing.
“Deidara,” Sakura drawled, honeyed and hot against his ear as she hugged him impossibly closer. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened if I’d found you first?”
“Huh?” he murmured against Sasori’s soft lips.
Sakura bit his earlobe and he saw colors that didn’t exist. “He’d probably kill you for me.”
Sasori growled, his teeth cutting upon Deidara’s bottom lip as he came deep and suddenly inside Sakura. Deidara felt the shudder go through him and centralize at the base of his cock, still confined and screaming for attention.
Which, well.
It wasn't every day the guy you’d fused the good and bad parts of your soul to got off to the thought of killing you for his girl should her priorities ever change while his tongue was throat-deep in you.
And unfortunately, inevitably, the thought made Deidara even harder.
Sakura, his. His in spite of Sasori, because of Sasori, with Sasori… He had never wanted to come so bad in his life. He wondered if this was what the kids meant when they complained about FOMO.
Sakura, boneless, draped all her weight on Deidara’s chest, and he moved to embrace her properly. Sasori clutched her hips like she might float away from him, but his gaze remained fixed on Deidara. A threat? A challenge? Make me a sandwich? There was never any telling with Sasori until he voiced his demands, and now was no different.
“I need a minute,” he said, lifting Sakura off his detumescent cock and all but shoving her at Deidara to deal with.
Sakura laughed and cast her eyes back at Sasori even as she clung to Deidara. “You are so uncharitable with him.”
Sasori palmed a clean towel and dragged it along his soft length, slick with her pleasure and his. “Then watch me be charitable.”
Deidara wasn’t privy to their dynamic. It was none of his business, he knew, but also, he was here. And he was nosy. “Hey, what the fuck, yeah?”
Sakura gripped his chin and turned him to face her, those acidic eyes brimming with that same look at me precedent Sasori had established for this entire hookup. Deidara found himself quite helpless before her. Before he knew it, she was kissing him properly, and it was more than good.
(Privately, Deidara decided she was a better kisser than Sasori purely on the basis of her obvious eagerness to please him, because even Sasori couldn’t win them all.)
He let her push him down to his back, her hands roving over his chest and down to the buttons on his pants. There had always been something demure about Sakura, something almost cautious when he was in the room, as if she were afraid he might detonate if she came too close. Now, however, she took charge on her own terms as she kissed down Deidara’s chest and lay beside him, doing her damndest to set him off.
Her hand in his pants wanting his cock was a dream he’d never dreamed until this moment. Watching her reach between her legs and dip her fingers in Sasori’s cum, however, was a reality Deidara had not prepared himself for.
“Mm,” Sakura hummed around her slick fingers.
Sasori was a cold motherfucker, always had been and always would be. But watching his spirit self-immolate behind his eyes to behold Sakura sucking down his seed like this was something of a transcendental experience.
Which, same, Deidara thought, imagining Sakura drinking his own cum like it was her favorite thing about him. Imagining Sasori drinking it…
“Fuck, Sakura.” Her name in Sasori’s voice promised a litany of retributions, just as soon as he was cleaned up and hard again. Which, judging from the absolutely feral way he was looking at Sakura sucking on her fingers for him, would not be long.
But Sakura had other plans, and those plans seemed to focus entirely on Deidara right now. Her deft fingers unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock, stiff and reddened with desire for her and for Sasori and for this entire, surreal experience.
“Hi,” Sakura said, a smile in her voice.
Deidara watched her over the throbbing head of his cock, admittedly charmed. “Hey, Doc.”
“You know,” Sakura said as she lowered herself over him and pressed a cute kiss to his cock head, “I’ve thought about this.”
“Eating my cock?” Deidara said, unable to help himself.
“Sasori watching us,” she corrected him before opening her mouth and swallowing him whole.
“Oh, fuuuuuuuuck yeah.”
Her mouth was satin along his length, stroking and sucking where he wanted her most. Deidara felt her tongue dive into his slit and spasmed, like a gods-damned amateur, but he hadn’t expected her to be so direct. Sasori watched Deidara with his cock halfway down Sakura’s throat as he stroked himself ready again, almost menacing the way he loomed on the edge of them, quietly impatient.
Deidara couldn’t help himself. It had been a minute since anyone had blown him. He fisted his hand in Sakura’s long, loose hair, encouraging her deeper and groaning as she gave him what he wanted. Watching Sasori as Sakura sucked him off was the kind of 4D chess masochism Deidara had come here looking for.
“Fuck, baby doll, just like that,” he encouraged, his fist tightening around her hair. “You suck like you’re starving. Makes me—ah!” He gasped to feel her give his balls a flirtatious squeeze. “Fuck—makes me wanna fill you up, yeah.”
Sakura moaned around him, while Sasori narrowed his eyes.
Gotcha, motherfucker.
“Hey, Sakura,” he said, moving his hand to her cheek, “you want me to breed you?”
She popped off him with a sharp tug, her lips glazed with spit and his pre-cum, hollowed and wanting. It was only now that she flushed. “Deidara.”
“You seem like that type, yeah,” he went on, giving her his full attention. “The type who always says thank you.” He pulled her up for a kiss and pressed an open-mouthed hand to her breast. “And I like to give.”
Sakura whined against his lips and pressed herself more fully into his hand working her nipple with tongue and teeth. “Yes, gods, please give it to me.”
Hell, but he wanted to after the good work she’d done on his cock. She deserved that much, and Deidara wasn’t lying when he said he liked to give. But Sasori had other plans.
“Not so fast.”
The order shivered down Deidara’s spine and spellbound him to Sasori’s whim, which whim had him hauled to his feet on invisible strings and marched to the futon a couple steps away. He landed on his ass in the unmade bed that smelled like Sasori and Sakura, and his hands moved without his control to slide his pants off.
As Sasori manipulated him effortlessly with one hand, he curled the other under Sakura’s chin and kneeled before her. Somehow, he maintained his supernaturally casual control even hard and completely nude. “Sakura.”
Sakura shuddered as hard as Deidara had, and he had never sympathized with another person more than he did in this moment. His hands ached to touch himself, but Sasori had him pinned.
“Yes,” she said, a plea and permission all at once.
Sasori smirked. “Keep him still for me.”
They kissed each other, languid and sensual, a lovers’ pact. Despite the electricity churning a storm between the three of them, it was only now, of all times, when Deidara felt like he’d trespassed on something sacred. He was almost sorry, until they broke apart and Sakura crawled toward him like she meant to swallow the rest of him.
“Come here,” she invited him, and Deidara felt himself pulled up to a seat on his haunches.
Sasori settled himself on the futon behind Deidara where he couldn’t see him, but he heard the pop of a cap and something slippery greasing flesh. Sakura bit her lip cutely, and Deidara seriously reconsidered that she wasn’t his type.
“Give me my fucking hands, yeah,” he complained, itching to grab Sakura and sit her on his lap.
Sasori’s voice in his ear was only marginally more startling than his hand suddenly around Deidara’s cock. “Behave, or I’ll let her break them.”
Deidara surged forward on his unshackled hands and spasmed as Sasori gave his cock a slow, squeezing pump. He could feel the heat of him at his back, a stifling presence that threatened to choke him, but Deidara had always felt himself a little suicidal around Sasori.
Sakura was waiting for him with open arms. Her hands caught his wrists in an anchoring hold that was armies strong. Hell, just the thought of her overpowering him was enough to edge him closer to his precipice, Sasori’s attention to his dick notwithstanding.
“Relax,” she murmured just shy of Deidara’s lips.
Relax was the absolute last thing Deidara could think to do the moment he felt Sasori’s wet finger press against the puckered rim of his hole. He cursed and looked back over his shoulder, which was a mistake. Sasori was as calm and self-assured as he ever was, maintaining eye contact as he swept his thumb over Deidara’s cock head and dipped a finger inside straight out of Deidara’s most vivid fantasies.
“Hey.” Sakura’s lips along his jaw were soft yet insistent. “Eyes on me, please.”
“You heard her,” Sasori said, deadass serious as he sank his finger in to the knuckle and curled it right against his prostate.
Deidara writhed. But he also obeyed, his nose bumping Sakura’s. “Sandaime’s dusty taint,” he swore, breathing hard. He still couldn’t move his arms so long as Sakura had them pinned. She was too strong.
Sakura laughed and kissed him. “Much better, thanks.”
He kissed her back, teeth and pressure that had to go somewhere when he was so close to blowing his load with every swipe of Sasori’s thumb over his slit. There were gods-damned tears in his eyes, he was shaking so bad and wishing he could just sit down. By some evil, blue-balling magic, Sasori sensed his looming cliff and abandoned him right at the edge of it.
“Fuck you, man,” Deidara wheezed. “I was right there, yeah.”
“I could tell,” Sasori said, because he was a royal type of asshole who put the lord in edge lord. “But I won’t let you ruin this for us.”
Even when he was thinking of others, Sasori was all about maximizing his own payoff.
“If I trusted you a little more, I’d let you go,” said Sakura, who was one hundred percent justified in her lack of faith in Deidara. If he had his hands he’d be on her tits in a heartbeat.
“Two against one’s no fair,” Deidara whined as he felt Sasori slip a second finger in.
“It’s all complaints from you today, hm?” Sasori moved his fingers, stretching the limits of Deidara’s sanity and his pulsing entrance.
Deidara arched his back as Sasori wrung his pleasure from him in a slow-moving crescendo that just wasn’t enough. He wanted to come. He wanted to die. He wanted to sit down on Sasori and wring him out a little bit in retribution.
“What are you thinking about, Deidara?” Sakura asked.
Fucking Sakura.
This was her fault, top to bottom—Sasori dying, obsessing, bringing them all together for his elaborate murder plans, and this. Humanity had never been in Sasori’s grand plans for himself, until Sakura came into his life and gave him a reason to hang on to it. To stick around, that relentless son of a bitch, even though it gouged him deeply. If Deidara were the loving type, he was sure he’d love her for that.
“I’m thinking—mm!” There was that third finger joining the party at last. Deidara breathed through his teeth and fisted the sheets under his trapped hands. “Thinking how you could be coming in all my mouths right now if you just let me fucking go, yeah.”
Sakura had not been expecting that, and it showed behind her hazy eyes as she rubbed her thighs together. “Sasori,” she said, betraying her own desire. “Please.”
“Nearly there,” Sasori said, abruptly removing all his fingers and leaving Deidara cored and dripping.
“Sasori, I swear, if you edge me again I’ll literally fucking explode—” He gagged on his own words to feel Sasori grab him by the hips and sink his cock in to the hilt in one push. His body quaked, ping-ponging across the spectrum of shock and dripping need as it stretched to accommodate the intrusion.
Sakura finally let go of Deidara’s hands, and without her support, he would have collapsed had Sasori not caught him with a strong arm around his waist. Skin to skin was hot, but Sasori’s voice in his ear was hotter still. “Listen to me very carefully,” he said, and in that moment, Deidara would have swallowed knives on command just to listen to Sasori speak to him in that molten gold tone. “I’m going to fuck her, and I’m going to use you to do it. Tell me you understand.”
Deidara almost sobbed when Sasori punctuated that mellifluous command with a roll of his hips and a wet kiss to his temple. His hands flew to his cock and held on as if it would save him from sinking. And Sakura was there in front of him leaning back on her hand and tracing a path along her thigh to her waiting cunt. That image carved its home deep in Deidara’s hind brain where he would never forget how she looked in that single moment, pink and wet with her essence and Sasori’s as she gazed up at Deidara with her lip caught between her teeth while Sasori cradled him.
“Ten-four, boss,” Deidara choked out.
“Good boy,” Sasori said with a painful nip to his ear, and Deidara was pretty sure he passed away for a second.
The next thing he knew, he was on all fours with Sasori pressing mercilessly in above him and Sakura pulling him down on top of her. Deidara was not a total goner just yet, however (miraculously), and he managed to snake a hand in between them to kiss her cunt. Sakura arched her back and gasped.
“Deidara!”
Deidara looked down on her, infinitely pleased with his own biology. “You have a very pretty cunt, yeah.”
She grabbed his cock for that one and tugged him closer, half mad with desire. “Prettier on the inside.”
“I bet—mmpf!”
Sasori snapped his hips, impatient, and drove Deidara balls-deep in a single thrust. Someone swore, Deidara couldn’t be sure who, but he was having trouble catching his breath now with Sakura squeezing him in front and Sasori filling him from behind. Wherever he looked, everything he felt, there was only Sakura and Sasori holding him like a glove. He was feverishly hot and weighed down, and he had never felt better about himself.
“Fuck,” Sakura said, breathless as she offered her hand.
Sasori reached around and took it in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles in a strange moment of tranquility. For the second time today, as Sasori pinned her hand under his, their fingers laced together, Deidara felt an unwelcome and unfamiliar pang of jealousy for them.
Except Sakura looking up at him, longing.
Except Sasori’s shallow breathing at the nape of his neck.
“Ready,” Sasori said, a strain in his voice as thin as gossamer.
Sakura nodded, overeager. “Yes.”
No one thought to ask if Deidara was ready before Sasori pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, lurching them both down and deep into Sakura’s warmth. Deidara screwed his eyes shut, his brain too slow to keep up with the double-sided desire careening him dangerously close to his finish, and they’d only just begun.
Fuck, uh, Oonoki. Oonoki eating. Eating those gods-damned fucking cardboard tea cookies he loves and getting crumbs everywhere. Oonoki’s face—
But all he could see was Sakura’s face, flushed and wanton as she took her dicking so well.
Oonoki dicking—
“Ah, fuck me.” Deidara cringed at that uniquely horrible thought, and it was enough to keep him from spilling his load prematurely no matter how hot Sakura looked underneath him.
“I am.” Sasori’s voice curled in that malevolent, electric way he’d perfected in his years as a supervillain on the run. He drove his point in hard and true and hit that sweet spot deep inside that made Deidara’s gut clench and catapult him straight back toward disaster.
“Oh gods,” Sakura sobbed, thrashing and splitting herself open wider as she brought her legs up around Deidara’s hips to hang on. But it was the way she looked up at Deidara like he was the only one and scrabbled for his hand that made him dizzy. “Deidara, Deidara. Here, come here, please—”
He gave her his hand to hold, would have chewed it off at the elbow to let her keep if she’d asked for it. They had her pinned over her head, one hand in Sasori’s and the other in his, and she was perfect in that moment holding them both.
“In me, please, I want it,” she begged now, hardly coherent, and it was Deidara’s only warning before Sasori picked up his already punishing pace to give her what she wanted.
Inside, where Sasori’s seed still lingered and made her wet. He wondered if she would taste his cum, how he’d compare. And then Sakura was coming, her cunt happy and crushing as she fucked the life out of him, and he was happy to let her take it.
But it wasn’t over yet.
Sasori tightened his grip on Deidara’s hip, bruising, and raised his stance a couple inches. The new angle was surprising and ruthless, and Sasori fucked into him like he’d been holding back until now.
“Fuck, I’m—fuck,” Deidara cried, shattered as he spilled inside Sakura and she kissed his knuckles through it.
He was so spent that he barely felt Sasori pull out of him with a wet pop and paint his back in hot, sticky ropes.
Beneath him, Sakura heaved, her pussy fluttering softly around him as she slowly came down from her high. Above him, the wet buss of Sasori’s mouth lingered at his shoulder in what wasn’t so much a kiss as a claim—I’m not finished with you yet.
Which was fine with Deidara; he was going absolutely nowhere. They would have to drag him out by his ankles if they wanted him gone after all that. He imagined it for a moment, the door shut in his face and a return to skulking around the empty, chirping halls alone as they burned up in each other.
He chuckled against the hollow of Sakura’s neck. Not on their fucking lives.
If Deidara was anything, it was clingy toward the people who claimed him as theirs.
The aftermath was a quiet, unceremonious affair practiced by two people who knew their way around each other. Sasori retrieved the towel he’d used before and cleaned himself and then Deidara’s back. Sakura shimmied out from under Deidara, planted a chaste kiss on his mouth (the one that did most of the talking), and fixed up the sheets on the bed. Deidara let it all happen rather bonelessly, too tired to give more than a longing whimper watching Sasori kneel before Sakura and clean her thighs.
They watched each other in the act, silent and staring, and Deidara recognized his jealous pang for what it really was. Delusions of grandeur were just that, after all. He rolled back on his heels, wincing and a little sore as he rifled around for his pants.
“Where do you think you’re going, brat?”
Deidara looked up to find them both watching him as if he had lain some great offense at their door. “Uh, I mean…?” He gestured at the two of them, hoping the heat in his face didn’t betray him.
“You don’t want to stay?” And fuck him, but Sakura sounded genuinely hurt.
Sasori liked to bitch about how many insipid words Deidara stored up like a rodent hoarding nuts for the winter, an endless supply for any occasion. Now, he couldn’t think of any that wouldn’t cut him coming out.
Sasori rose to his full height, incomparably shameless in his nakedness after such a thorough fuck, and glared down at Deidara with his typically poisonous lassitude. “How long will you continue to doubt me?”
Deidara sputtered. “I—what are you even—”
“I entrusted you with my body,” Sasori interrupted him, made colder and crueler in his feeling. “I gave you back your life. What more proof do you need? Tell me now, or take your freedom and be gone from my sight.”
Deidara was on his feet and trembling before Sasori could finish. Sasori didn’t so much as twitch to feel his hands on his shoulders trying to make a dent where it was no use at all. “I don’t need it, yeah,” he said, tender as an exposed nerve and unable to believe what he was hearing. All this time, and he never said a fucking word? “How long have I waited for you anyway, huh?”
Fucking moron. As if freedom ever meant anything without the one person who had ever dared him to name its shape beyond the distant platitude of the thing. If Sasori believed that, he would never have clung to his human shell and all the scar-tissue memories carved deep into its bones when he cut out his heart and put it in a perfect, wooden box. He wouldn’t have let Sakura smash it all to pieces just for the excuse to take it all back. Life wasn’t about living; it was about living for something, for someone.
“I’ll wait for you for the rest of my fucking life, yeah,” Deidara said. “However long that lasts.”
Sasori was not often cowed, and he was not so now. But he looked at Deidara like he finally saw him standing there, as he’d always been standing there. Deidara wanted to laugh. Fucking morons, the both of them.
“Long,” Sakura said from her place on the futon, a sheet clutched to her chest. “I’m a very good medic, you know.”
Deidara snorted. “No need to eat your own ass, Sakura. That’s what I’m here for, yeah.”
“Deidara,” she said, scandalized now of all times. He’d literally watched her suck Sasori’s cum from her fingers, but hey. Go off, queen.
Sasori sighed deeply from his gut. He closed his fingers around Deidara’s wrists still resting on his shoulders. For a moment, he looked years beyond his eternally youthful face. “Okonomiyaki,” he said.
“Huh?”
“And hiyayakko.”
“Wait, are you just naming random foods now or—”
“Geso yaki,” Sasori interrupted him. “And oyakodon.”
Deidara was dangerously close to committing frottage and also a violent tort. “Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous, yeah. I can’t make all those foods at the same time. They don’t even go together.”
“I could go for tempura, to be honest,” Sakura said.
Deidara shot her a filthy look over Sasori’s shoulder. “This isn’t a damn full service ryokan, you know, yeah.”
“And sake,” Sasori said with finality. He gave Deidara’s wrists a squeeze and then pulled away. Sakura took his hand when he gave it and let him pull her up. “But first, a bath,” he murmured against her lips.
Deidara rolled his eyes. His hair was a mess. He’d lost his hair tie somewhere in between Sakura sucking him off and Sasori giving him his fingers. But that was less of a concern compared to what foods he could actually make for their evening meal given the ingredients on hand and Sasori’s and Sakura’s unreasonable demands.
A familiar, chilling pull yanked him out of his thoughts and saw him walking to the door behind Sasori. Sakura slipped her hand in his and grinned up at him. “I bet no one’s ever washed your hair for you.”
They hadn’t, not since his mother died when he was a boy, but Sakura couldn’t know that. Sasori didn’t even know that.
“My mother used to, yeah,” he said. He hadn’t spoken of his mother in decades and wondered at how easily the words escaped him now.
Sakura’s grin softened around the edges, and she brought his knuckles to her lips for a kiss. “Then I’ll be gentle.”
“Don’t baby him, Sakura,” Sasori said as he held the door for them and tugged them both along after him. “I’ve invested too much time and energy for you to undo it all after just one good fuck.”
“It was pretty good, though,” Deidara said, deservedly pleased with himself and his many great accomplishments.
They took up all the room in the bath, and Sakura did wash his hair like she’d offered to, and Sasori wasn’t a whole, ripe bastard about it.
Anko and Kankuro would arrive soon, and with their arrival would come plans and plotting the downfall of an entire shinobi nation. But that was for tomorrow. For now, this interlude in their procession was Deidara’s eternity in a grain of sand.
And he would take it for every greedy, jealous second he could wring from it.