Infernal Constellations

Sasori did not blink; glass eyes with irises burning, the Suna sunset captured carefully behind shuttered eyelids now widened. He had stilled, a disconnected joint in his hands to be buffed smooth and placed back in its place. Sasori had always cared so much about things in their proper places. "..." He was getting used to this. Deidara has been starting this new behaviour a little while now, planting kisses on him as if trying to see him react. The puppeteer was playing along for now, waiting to see what conclusions Deidara would draw. What was the basis? Pure convenience by proximity? Certainly he had not stung Deidara yet for daring. He was still silent. Still watching Deidara, eyes lidding a little more as the surprise passed. His mouth was cool and hard as it moved under softer lips. "Did you need something, Deidara?"

Sasori's brow lifted, that precisely carved tile, finely painted red notches set against the rest of his facial plating. "Me?" He pulled away just slightly, if only so he could work in an arm between their bodies. It tapped against Deidara's chest, right along a collarbone. "What about me? I'm right here." His voice was dry, but not yet tinged with ominous curtness. His tail flicked once. "Be more specific," he said, almost chidingly. It was a biteless comment.

Izuna's lazy smile didn't flicker, since considering this was from Reto... Yes, he did expect a more straightforward question to come from the Kazekage. "Ah, my kekkei genkai..." Uchiha eyes didn't quite reflect light, not in the same way that other eyes did. The colour was abyssal. Izuna tilted his head slightly, considering. His words came out velvety soft, measured. "It is a great power. There are some who think the cost is worth. But they are... not the majority." He blinked and the shade seemed to shift and he glanced at Chikamatsu with more levity threaded through his voice. "How should the order go, Chikamatsu-ma~? Do you want to ask one of us next~? Or should I..."

Despite their dark colour, Izuna's eyes were like candleflames. He blinked slowly at the two Suna-born, propping up his chin onto his wrists as he thought. "Dare, mm~...?" He closed his eyes, humming deeply to himself. Izuna drummed his fingers on the spread below him. "Chikamatsu-ma, would you kindly dress up for me?" His gaze flicked to the wardrobe. "What you would find on a more curvaceous form, please."

Sasori's eyes glinted owlishly succinite as he minutely turned his head to speak to him. "No one of importance," he murmured, body angled just so, just slightly towards his partner, as if to block a line of sight... If one could consider Sasori so petty. Which, of course, Itachi knew very well Sasori could be, though the times when he had displayed this trait in the past was exclusively caused by perceived slights from Deidara. His head turned further, his blank expression betraying the faint concern that sightless eyes could no longer see. Smooth, lightly linseed-oil scented hands cupped one of Itachi's own, fingers ghosting over the veins at his wrist. A practiced medical touch. "Tell me if you need anything." His voice was tender.

"Hush now." Sasori rebutted his self-deprecation with a shake of his head - red strands brushed against Itachi's jaw from his proximity. "You are far more than a secondhand doll. There is nothing missing from you." Every scar and every flaw was carefully cast in Sasori's eyes, kintsugi as exquisite as his puppets. No, nothing broken about his chosen beloved at all. Every piece in place as it was meant to be, feathers sleek and silken in a wing. "Would you like something to drink?" Sasori had, over time, taken it upon himself to carry both a small, discreet satchel that tucked into his silhouette, with all the requisite supplies to make travel as smooth and comfortable within reason as possible. Of course he had a teaset and drinks kept cool in custom thermos. Hydration was important, and it was rarely a bad time for tea.

Naruto growled playfully, the sound a bit more raspy, a little more... wild than people could usually accomplish. "Mmmm~~" He didn't shy away from the deep sound that emerged from his chest, arms snaking up to hold Sasuke to him. Naruto nibbled on Sasuke's lower lip, tongue pulling him in further. Deeper. "Whaddya want, Sasuke-chan~?" By the time he pulled back to speak, both of their mouths were wet and ruddy and Sasuke had somehow wound up half-kneeling over Naruto, the hokage lain down on the couch in the office... Naruto ran his hands down Sasuke's chest, but not before pinching his nipples as he passed by. "'Cause I think... that you're in a great spot to ride me, y'know?" Warm hands suddenly pulled down to grind Sasuke against Naruto's hips, letting him feel that Naruto most definitely was starting to get into it.

Naruto chuckled at him, releasing him to do whatever he wanted... And also so Naruto could circle his desk, pulse into the inlaid seal to give them a little privacy, and come back. Sasuke was lucky he'd chosen a convenient window in his schedule, otherwise the hokage was inclined to have him under his desk. Not as great with their bodies these days, they weren't quite that young anymore. Not too young to have some fun though... Naruto wiggled his eyebrows ridiculously at Sasuke, laying on the office couch with just a slice of chest exposed from where his daily outfit had parted. Strategic, or happenstance...?

Sasori did not blink; glass eyes with irises burning, the Suna sunset captured carefully behind shuttered eyelids now widened. He had stilled, a disconnected joint in his hands to be buffed smooth and placed back in its place. Sasori had always cared so much about things in their proper places. "..." He was getting used to this. Deidara has been starting this new behaviour a little while now, planting kisses on him as if trying to see him react. The puppeteer was playing along for now, waiting to see what conclusions Deidara would draw. What was the basis? Pure convenience by proximity? Certainly he had not stung Deidara yet for daring. He was still silent. Still watching Deidara, eyes lidding a little more as the surprise passed. His mouth was cool and hard as it moved under softer lips. "Did you need something, Deidara?"

Sasori's brow lifted, that precisely carved tile, finely painted red notches set against the rest of his facial plating. "Me?" He pulled away just slightly, if only so he could work in an arm between their bodies. It tapped against Deidara's chest, right along a collarbone. "What about me? I'm right here." His voice was dry, but not yet tinged with ominous curtness. His tail flicked once. "Be more specific," he said, almost chidingly. It was a biteless comment.

"Nice work." Kisame hummed after a number of minutes, returning with a clip slightly faster than his usual deceptively casual amble. Outside of combat, and sometimes even preceding it, Kisame liked to give off the impression of being almost offensively relaxed. It was a nice little way to nudge opponents to think Kisame was a big lumbering brute; he could be a bit of a brute, he supposed, and he was certainly big. But lumbering, he was not. Kisame was a proper shinobi after all. The corner of his lips quirked as he watched Itachi's perfectly still, perfectly straight posture. Somehow, it reminded him of fancy, skinny housecats, poised up with their tails curled over their paws. He'd only seen a number of them once, on an escort mission to a particular noble... Too skinny. He supposed it was why he got indulgent sometimes. Indulgent like right now. "What do you want me to do?" Kisame was letting Itachi lead, since Itachi had more experience with these sorts of recipes. Perhaps Itachi would feel the same if they were trying to explore a pie recipe instead.

Kisame blinked thoughtfully at Itachi's squinting, but didn't comment, tactful. His hands were slightly oversized to the task at hand, tools designed for smaller folk, but he was long used to the disparity. Itachi was so organized, it was easy for him to dispense the measured out amounts into respective bowls-- looking neat, if naturally lopsided in their different coloured containers. Mindful of the occasional drift of powder from the scoops, he dabbed a towel over the counter after the task was accomplished. "What's next?" Oh, he hoped the result was as nice as the illustration had made it seem.

Sasori let out a quiet, slightly flat hum, as soft as he could modulate it. Though he could not understand it (or chose not to, to shut his eyes), his heart-core resonated with a vague seeping sensation. He thought it was warmth, perhaps. Touched, he'd call it. "Thank you for your concern." Just the idea that anyone would feel concerned on his behalf, that was a curiosity that... touched the puppeteer. "Did you expect me to join you, in the bath?" There was that rare sliver of teasing, a side of Sasori only Itachi had ever earned since Sasori had wrenched himself from his mortal flesh and crawled into his perfect shell. His cool fingers intertwined with Itachi's, curling them into a delicate clasp. Sasori's other hand once again combed through Itachi's hair, this time tucking more behind his ear. "I will not rust. Nor will I warp. My body is made of far superior materials, and besides." Sasori drew Itachi's gaze to his wooden hand, by holding it close in front of the Uchiha's face. A thin blue barrier-shell of chakra flickered over the surface, neatly covering every joint and seam. "It will not be a concern, if I so chose." The chakra faded away, sinking back into the intricately carved channels that ran through Sasori's frame. He wasn't clambering into their suite's bathtub, but he could hold Itachi's hand through the bathing. He'd probably do the washing for him anyway, and he could say he... didn't mind. Taking the time out for this, Sasori found he didn't mind it. It didn't feel wasted, despite the mundanity, and how he did not need to do this. Itachi could bathe himself. But... Sasori had nowhere else to be. He wanted to be here. The puppeteer disregarded the unproductive train of thought and escorted Itachi to the bathroom, where the bathtub was measured precisely full enough to accommodate Itachi and not overflow. "Would you rather disrobe yourself?" He offered, hanging his chosen outfit for the Uchiha on the hooks behind the door.

Sasori huffed a faint laugh at his mumble, picking up the littered clothes and folding them himself. A neat stack to be put in the laundry basket later, after Itachi was done being washed and dried and clothed anew. For now, set on an empty corner of the bathroom counter. There was something... curled up in his heart-chamber like a stray. A candle's warmth. Sasori didn't ruminate on it as he stepped forward, resting a hand on Itachi's head as a thin film of chakra sealed over his hands again, moving smoothly upward from the fingertips to his elbows. It was nonsensical to merely seal his hands when water was likely to reach higher. The other hand carefully tightened its grip, all modulated and precise. Sasori, after all, had far more strength to control with his actions. Tedious at times, but the benefits of being able to crush things beyond baseline human strength was worth the work. The blue didn't flicker, providing a buzzing, tingling warmth that increased with proximity as Itachi squeezed him. Speaking of which... "Raise your arms." He was massaging soap onto his hands, preparing a gentle lather to coat pale skin with. His hands settled on slim shoulders, the warmth of his chakra conveying more than Sasori could ever, now. It could trick the mind...

Sasori did not blink; glass eyes with irises burning, the Suna sunset captured carefully behind shuttered eyelids now widened. He had stilled, a disconnected joint in his hands to be buffed smooth and placed back in its place. Sasori had always cared so much about things in their proper places. "..." He was getting used to this. Deidara has been starting this new behaviour a little while now, planting kisses on him as if trying to see him react. The puppeteer was playing along for now, waiting to see what conclusions Deidara would draw. What was the basis? Pure convenience by proximity? Certainly he had not stung Deidara yet for daring. He was still silent. Still watching Deidara, eyes lidding a little more as the surprise passed. His mouth was cool and hard as it moved under softer lips. "Did you need something, Deidara?"

Orochimaru blinked guilelessly at him, the gesture jarring with the lack of predatory, serpentine quality that he had always carried. "Yes~...?" With a quick pull he finishing tying his hair up, hand carding through the underside to ensure it flowed and sat smoothly over his shoulder. A light smile lingered over his face as the sannin placed a hand over his hip, clearly bemused by the naked hunger in his partner's eyes. So precious. This hunger, that they shared, that consumed them... "Come, now, are you truly surprised? Certainly drawing less attention could only help here." His tone was inviting... Go ahead. Ask your little questions, scorpion.

Orochimaru's eyes lingered over the puppet with one of the more familiar of his atypical expressions -- a hunger of curiosity as monstrously vast as Sasori's own, but layered with a perpetual film of false joviality. crinkled with overt, cloying delight as he clapped his hands together-- their tone had changed too, no longer ghostly pale. "Of course, dear~~" He made his back to his seat, focus turned away. For now. Oh, how fascinating, the nature of Sasori's psychosis. He did so wonder what had caused it... For Orochimaru had seen the Third Kazekage, of course, when he was alive. As Hiruzen's student, each of the Sannin often accompanied their teacher to Gokage summits, when they had the time. Likely it was just Hiruzen's sentimentalism to keep them close, when he never had any intent on any of them becoming his successor. What was the connection? Why had Sasori of the Red Sands killed his Kage? Well, he had the time to tease, and pry, and coax that information out... Starting with feeding his stubborn, prideful partner. He truly was horrible at fending for himself, wasn't he?

Naruto growled playfully, the sound a bit more raspy, a little more... wild than people could usually accomplish. "Mmmm~~" He didn't shy away from the deep sound that emerged from his chest, arms snaking up to hold Sasuke to him. Naruto nibbled on Sasuke's lower lip, tongue pulling him in further. Deeper. "Whaddya want, Sasuke-chan~?" By the time he pulled back to speak, both of their mouths were wet and ruddy and Sasuke had somehow wound up half-kneeling over Naruto, the hokage lain down on the couch in the office... Naruto ran his hands down Sasuke's chest, but not before pinching his nipples as he passed by. "'Cause I think... that you're in a great spot to ride me, y'know?" Warm hands suddenly pulled down to grind Sasuke against Naruto's hips, letting him feel that Naruto most definitely was starting to get into it.

Hidan cracked open his eyelids, refreshingly not feeling fresh gravedirt on his face, or anywhere for that matter. It didn't smell like wood either. Sunlight. His eyes watered, but he didn't shy from the light, a grin peeling back his lips as he stretched his arms up behind his head. "Fu~u~uck," he groaned, yawning; the word was drawn out unnecessarily, raspy in the way of the newly woken. As if Hidan had simply emerged from a night of deep, restful sleep. Unlike his angel. He turned his head and saw... A head full of snow white. As unusual as Hidan's own moon-silver. He swung his legs over the bed, casually stripping the sheet he was covered with from the bed and wrapping it around himself like a robe. Improvisation came naturally to him. "Thank you, angel-san~," he teased, far less formal than most. As if they were already friends. But then again, under Jashin's purview, Hidan was close to him. To everyone. Pain was shared. Empathy was shared. They were all blood in one way or another. He took in the "angel" with eyes not fogged from delirious bloodloss. "What's your name? And is there anything you'd like me to do?" Civilians rarely saved shinobi out of the pure goodness of their hearts. Sure, good intentions, but secretly, subconsciously, they wanted something. Could be as harmless as a few tales of shinobi tricks. Could be as simple as "help me finish harvesting this field". But something. Always something. His fuchsia eyes were bright, and clear. Sharp, and the colour of gemstones from another land. Exotic things. They shifted in the light, never quite the same from moment to moment.

Hidan held out his hand, an incongruous handshake offered; the people of these lands did not do this. Shinobi, most deadly with their hands, did not greet each other like this. Too much risk, as dangerous as letting a Suna-nin prepare your food. "Thank you, Noriaki-san." There was something strangely sly about how Hidan pronounced his name, felt it out over his tongue and teeth carefully, but it only jarred against the sincerity in his eyes watching Noriaki. Incongruity. He did seem grateful enough, however, and no part of him spoke of the inherent violence that must have led him into the situation that the other man had found him in. "If you don't want something, that's always welcome, but don't feel shy if you need a hand." A few rare civilians were genuinely kind in Hidan's experience. Not many, so this was a treat. Hidan shrugged when offered the choice, not terribly picky... He did prefer tea these days, however. A faint chuckle escaped him at Noriaki's delicate words, but Hidan didn't immediately answer. "Why would I do something like that? I'm just lucky that I heal well." He was mildly surprised that Noriaki seemed to be able to perceive the truth on the situation... But he surely couldn't guess that this was anything more than the usual mysterious shinobi arts. Not that there was something divine, and impossible about what had happened over the night, building piece by piece like a tapestry of muscle fiber and blood vessel. The blanket unpooled from his bare skin and revealed pristine flesh. No scars marred his form. "Let me get outta your hair." Legs swung over the side of the bed, meeting the chill of the wooden floor without flinching. He probably needed new clothes, huh...

Naruto let the smile flicker forth like his esteemed father's kunai, setting his pen down. The sky in his eyes turned, internal weather shifting. Carefully. He moved with Sasuke's hand, but... His hand lashed out, gripping Sasuke's wrist warningly. "Do you want a little somethin', Sasuke-chan...? Use your words." His smile was toothy. A little too wide for the mock chastising he was trying to set.

There was something about Sasuke that never failed to make Naruto... Well, competitive wasn't quite right. Their youth was definitely edged with a background competitiveness, but today? A short laugh escaped him, the Hokage letting go of his wrist. Naruto braced his palms against his desk, and stood up, pushing his seat back. He tilted his chin up, smile growing. "Ne, acting? Me? I am innocent, Sas~uke~chan~. You're sure acting strange... Why? Too chicken to tell me what you want?" Childish, but Naruto never was above that. He was right in Sasuke's face. Grinning at him, now.

Sasuke's gaze sharpened, an almost annoyed huff escaping his lips queitly. As if the way Naruto was acting at the moment was completely unreasonable. "No you're not." He'd answer, soon leaning forwards once he finally released his hold on the bead. Planting his hands on the desk. Getting close as he says: "I want you to pay attention to me."

"I am paying attention, Sasuke dear~." Naruto grinned vulpinely at him, face to face; their noses brushed. With shinobi speed, the Hokage jolted forward and bit Sasuke's cheek before withdrawing. "Ne~, what do you think I'm doing? I'm paying loootsa attention, you're just being stubborn. Use your words." A darker flicker flitted through his blue eyes, a cloud over the ocean. Not a threat. More of a... promise.

Kakuzu is standing there unamused, covered in slimy pumpkin. His gaze is boring into Deidara and Hidan's antics. Mostly on Hidan.

Kakuzu didn't blink as he stared Hidan down, speaking with that glacial calm that only boded poorly. "Clean this up. We're going on a mission afterwards." He hadn't necessarily planned on chasing a bounty today, but his schedule was flexible... Hidan would just have to deal. He walked away to shower.

Naruto let the smile flicker forth like his esteemed father's kunai, setting his pen down. The sky in his eyes turned, internal weather shifting. Carefully. He moved with Sasuke's hand, but... His hand lashed out, gripping Sasuke's wrist warningly. "Do you want a little somethin', Sasuke-chan...? Use your words." His smile was toothy. A little too wide for the mock chastising he was trying to set.

There was something about Sasuke that never failed to make Naruto... Well, competitive wasn't quite right. Their youth was definitely edged with a background competitiveness, but today? A short laugh escaped him, the Hokage letting go of his wrist. Naruto braced his palms against his desk, and stood up, pushing his seat back. He tilted his chin up, smile growing. "Ne, acting? Me? I am innocent, Sas~uke~chan~. You're sure acting strange... Why? Too chicken to tell me what you want?" Childish, but Naruto never was above that. He was right in Sasuke's face. Grinning at him, now.