what is he, an IDIOT? deidara chokes back a sob, frustrated at the situation and angry with himself — for the one fleeting second when hidan’s grip loosened deidara allowed himself to think his tormentor had had his fun and, true to his word, would let him go so the artist could go lick his wounds in peace. but hidan hadn’t actually promised to do that, something that deidara is only now realising.
his hair falls from his face at the new angle his head is twisted in, revealing deidara’s eyes. the usually hidden, closed one, and its open twin, wet and red – rimmed but furious, staring up at the priest. deidara can’t help the shiver that runs through him when hidan’s voice caresses his skin, part disgust and part — something. watching those purple eyes darkened with blood – lust jolt deidara with the realisation of what a picture they must make. ( like a depraved carnival mirror reflection, twisted in all the wrong — right? — places. )
he struggles to swallow, throat working visibly and audibly against the uncomfortable strain. he can no longer struggle in this position, so deidara settles on glaring. like HELL is he putting himself through that again. “ screw you — i SAID it, yeah. you had your fun, now let me GO, you fucker. ”
perhaps he is an idiot. whether he goes willingly or pulls back at the chain hidan is yanking, deidara is stuck playing the jashinist’s game of cat and mouse. but if playing dead under his claws only invites more jeering, deidara will bare his teeth in return.
Despite their closeness, Hidan does his best to leer down at them ; to bear witness to their floundering. Squirm, piggy, squirm!! Let fat, sparkling tears brim your eyes. Let those delicious squeals hiss through your teeth. Every reaction, no matter how small or insignificant, fills your comrade with a perverse, overwhelming delight. Seeing Deidara like this . . his mouth feels like it’s watering. He wants to taste the fear in his sweat. See the pain in his eyes. That was his livelihood. His sending.
The boy’s glare is met and maintained, cocking the Immortal’s head curiously. Exactly how weak was this kid? Would he give in right away and fall to his knees - or would he fight back? Hidan hoped for the latter. He liked a challenge after all.
❝ Ouch. That’s quite the mouth you’ve got on you. I was just trying to teach you some manners - ❞ he yanks the boy’s ponytail even further, ❝ - you know, play nice. ❞ By this point Hidan was practically hissing the words across the boy’s jawline, lips just barely gracing flesh. ❝ But fine. You wanna be a little bitch? Be my guest. ❞
Then Deidara’s wish is satisfied - Hidan lets go. But he does so strategically. First the fingers are untangled from his hair. Then, after a beat or two, his hands from his back. This places Deidara in a dilemma. Either fall face first into the wall or try to use his infected, stitched up arms to catch himself. What’ll it be?