A One ,
Deidara didn't know how to dance; he was quite horrible at it if he was going to be honest with himself. The female's hand he gripped was tiny; She looked completely uninterested as she followed his movements every time he messed up however, she would distance herself. She didn't want to get stepped on. He couldn't apologize to the girl every time he stepped on her, because he found enjoyment out of it. Her red orbs blazing every time his foot came in contact with hers.
So, on the final night, you think that he would be able to dance. He takes her hand and leads her onto the floor. He even dressed up for this stupid party; let him have one dance with her. He wills God to help him while he tries not to step on her dress that drags the ground.
"You aren't supposed to watch your feet."
Her voice is soft when she talks. He's surprised to admit that this is the first time that he has heard her voice. All those weeks of dance lessons and only know has he heard her voice. She bites her lip and blushes at him. He knows why; his face is stuck in an awestruck expression. He is also dressed up, in a tuxedo, which is surprising to every girl here that knows him.
"You aren't supposed to be heard, un."
Her eyes widen and her eyebrows drop in anger and surprise at what he had said. She didn't understand that he was having an internal struggle; he wanted to kiss her and take her away with him. He finds himself pulling her along after the thought occurs to him. She is following, but he can tell that she is confused by her own movements.
Once he reaches the hall; he kisses her. He buries one hand in a messy pile of red hair. She doesn't struggle against; he thinks that she may even be kissing him back. He picks her up and slams her against the opposing wall.
It may have been said by him, or by her. Maybe both even. They are panting and they have barely touched one another. He would admit that this girl was fucking intoxicating. She on the other hand, wanted him to be hers.
So, always prepared-she reached into her pocket. He gasped as he felt the blood running down his chest. She had carved her name into his skin; his blood seeped from these wounds but they only pressed closer to one another as he grabbed the razor blade from Karin and took her leg. He put it around his waist and sensually dragged her dress upwards. Then once her thigh was exposed he carefully carved his name; Deidara, into her creamy white skin.