A/N: Well, here's another random scribble. . . Not very good, either, but I was bored at work a while back. . .

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and I'm not making any money off this

Ratings: PG

Genre: Horror/Angst

Warnings: Implied yaoi

Main Characters: Deidara, Orochimaru (hinted SasoDei)

Additional Notes: Not much. This is extremely vague. . . Have fun. . .


Brief


A brief breath. A brief flash. A brief glimpse before the red consumed. He could not breathe—his limbs were leaden and locked. Crushed by a weight that did not exist, scrambling against it as the seconds stretched and the world blurred, smearing like wet ink on a canvas. Pain blossomed in his body. He could no longer tell where it originated. He was blind to all else but the sensations beyond the pain, through the pain. There were touches, soft and smooth against his heated skin. He strained to the point of breaking to revel in the feel of skin against his flesh. He knew those touches. He knew these touches well enough to know that they were impossible. The owner of that skin was dead—dead a year and half ago. Pierced and gone—a new impossibility to add to a long list. He was burning now, with the phantom touches drawing him ever closer to tears—ever closer to screams.

The ghost touches reached his lips, filling him as he arched into it; the cold and gritty ground never registered beyond a passing discomfort at the edge of his awareness. He could feel the sweat on his skin—a side effect of the drug overdose, the last remaining ruminants of his rational mind supplied. He could hear moans above him and he knew something wasn't right, that this wasn't want he'd wanted when he had first searched the snake out, but it was only a passing feeling. Eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy, the mouths in his hands open and screaming as he bit down on his lip. Something slipped down his thigh and he flinched, the fantasy ending as soon as it had begun.

He opened his deadened cerulean eyes to stare balefully into the sadistic amber pair above him. Snake-slitted pupils stared back hungrily and he simply waited for what he knew was inevitable. That mouth lowered to his with a flash of steel and he closed his eyes, tears slipping from his lashes, down his white cheeks to the ground that was soon stained red with his blood. It had all been too brief.


Owari


A/N: I know. Not very coherent. . . Old work, actually. Been in a notebook for a few months. But anyway, review?