This is NOT crack this is more serious than anything. It sort of describes how Sasori and Deidara's relationship works. It has sadism, loyalty, masochism, heavy suggestions of yaoi so it's a warning for that reason. Any others you want to add? XD I wrote this at like 2-4 in the morning, yes I didn't sleep again, so there may be errs, if you spot any, please notify me

I like how this fic came out, I was reading some Sasodei and I saw something similar to this but it more or less described different situations, and I'm pretty sure I didn't hit on their exact words :P and theres was 50, while mine was only 26. This fic also didn't come out as I hoped, I hoped it would bee all cheery and happy and smutty, but it ended to up be this because of my tiredness and my slight current angst :P and not to mention my angsty muse that I cannot seem to get rid of. Oh and yeah, I pulled nerd tonight, I read like the entire 'B' 'Q' 'X' 'Y' 'Z' any some other sections of the dictionary today I NEED TO KEEP MY MIND ON SOMETHING... oh and I read some other parts in the dictionary

Sasori and Deidara (c) Masashi Kishimoto
Fanfic (c) me


Sasori often uses those poisons to seduce the blond, but none are as addicting and luscious as the red's own body – especially his eyes.


Deidara often balances between sanity, though every kiss Sasori gives him pushes him ever-closer to the borderline of the psychotic.


Sasori himself was a mystery, only unveiled after Deidara spoke those three words, "I love you…"


That word had many meanings to the two artists, whether it be 'Master' 'husband' or other hidden ones, ones they only discovered in bed.


Both came from the stone – Iwa and Suna.


When it came to Deidara and aphrodisiacs, he had several weird ones, of those included Sasori's poisons – though those were to be expected, as the red had purposely made them for the blond, ones in a good way.


One would always peek at the other when one thought they were not looking.


Every time Deidara enraged Sasori, blood would flow out of his veins – though Sasori would always 'clean up' the blond - with his tongue.


Deidara respected the puppeteer, who gave him his feelings, yet, in turn, feelings were also imposed on Sasori, addicting feelings.


Sasori never thought of Christmas the same again.


For Deidara, this was a loving gesture, an addicting feeling; but to Sasori it was merely symbolical, only there to display to Deidara how much the puppet felt for him.


Sasori would never tell Deidara how he never felt those touches – the ones on his wooden, faux body – and those lips on his… nor would he tell the blond how he truly wished he could.


Sasroi was a puppet without strings, Deidara a human with them.


It wasn't required, it was a luxury, a desire.


One was a burning heat, the other a freezing cold; their personalities matching their lover's eyes.


Each artist expresses their art in their own way; mixing them can be either dangerous or magnificent, and they both agree it's the latter.


It really wasn't about how much anymore, it was about when.


They must always remember - being a ninja comes first, not love.


Some days, it was just to relieve stress, though the majority was for self – and the other's – pleasure.


None were shed nor given, never was their promise, and never it stayed.


Each action defied the laws, either that of nature or of the ninja.


Deidara thought Sasori's mouth tasted of that soft silk.


Regardless of the situation and his position, Deidara knew to never anger Sasori.


Sasori truly hated when Deidara interrupted his work – that is, unless it benefited him in some way.


Either nin could easily overcome this emotion, but it didn't necessarily mean they did.


Each truly enjoyed the others company, Deidara was anxious, yet Sasori proved to be impatient.