#naruto fics

It wasn't their first time. Their first time has been a haze - a fever dream of which he's etched every detail into the psyche, never to vanish. Unyielding pressure and scorching friction, vice grips and slick heat. Eagerness was weaved into his entire being; it was the air he breathed, the heavy gasps they shared.

Disbelief, happiness, exploration, a complete unfolding - it's been many things, but not controlled. That not. Obito wasn’t in control of the wild burst of emotions - and not of himself.

The second has been a gift. Obito doubted it'd ever happen, self-hatred his eternal hounding, loyal like a shadow. They've been dancing around each other for years now, air between them ripe with something incendiary that the four letter word would be too reductive for. It was taut, suffocating, gripping by the throat, begging to be dissolved. The more it lingered, the madder it got him - both of them.

Deidara is a creature of a moment, wild and passionate, unquenchable in his thirst for adrenaline. Obito has been expecting him to yield to the spark laced with danger, just like he's been expecting it to pall. He expected Deidara to retreat; to call it a mistake, a product of a whim, a singular instance of succumbing to sexual frustration, hardly ever to repeat. Anything but an admission of reciprocated affections. Anything but me too.

Yet, none of that came to be. Revier wasn't shattered. It hasn't been a mistake, or a whim. Deidara wanted this - wanted him. That's the concept Obito still couldn't wrap his head around. He can't understand what lured such a dangerously attractive creature in, what could Deidara have seen in a negation of a human being; in a shadow he cast over his unparalleled flicker. In ugliness that was his razing fear.

Eagerness waned a fraction, but still guided. Obito still shuddered with desire, not creeping what-if's and apprehension clawing up throat. The insatiable hunger didn't allow doubt to worm in and overtake. Unbridled lust coursed through his veins, shot chemicals to his brain and overshadowed every ruinous why.

It was their third time, and Obito could relax. Because there will be a fourth. And a fifth. And many more after. He's wanted. Why so, how so, that Obito couldn't comprehend, but it was the truth. Words can dupe, eyes can deceive, but the tactile heat of flesh didn't lie.

It was the third time he had Deidara writhing beneath him and insecurity couldn't be negated. Desire no longer turned into an animal that's been kept starved for cruelly long, and thus the doubt slithered inside, snaking around heart and injecting venom into veins. Obito had to wonder if inexperience bled into his performance. It was an absurd notion, for a shinobi of his status, a puppeteer from the shadows, hence all the more suitable. He knew how to take a life, not how to make love; how to show love. This rotten hell of a world hasn't taught him gentleness, just the depth of human misery.

Deidara didn't make such remarks, not even implicitly, but that didn't mean he hadn't noted the imperfection. Didn't have his complaints and muffled sighs of disappointment. Didn't have second thoughts. Didn't consider leaving. Obito wouldn't stop him, didn't want to clip his wings, to snuff his flame, but it would break the last vestige of sanity. It would break him, once and for all. An apt punishment for all the wrongs done upon this person, Obito supposed.

At the moment, Deidara was nothing but shallow breaths and twitches, skin glistering with sweat, spine arching up, calling for his touch. Obito couldn't deny this man a thing. He had to provide, while taking and talking. Like his soul is unslakable. Like this yearning knows no bounds. The depth of engulfing, unstringing emotions only Uchiha can come to feel, scorching in their wicked veins, blinding more than the curse of Sharingan ever could.

Deidara was taking him with thrilling pliance, hips meekly rolling back, fluttering and trembling in tandem with ragged breath. His cock bobbed and drooled over belly, pleading for attention it couldn't get. Not because Obito denied him, but because Deidara hasn't tried to touch himself. Muscles quivered and arms laid limp over sheets, toes curling and fingers flexing, like he’s lost control of own body.

It was an immensely arousing thought. Too daring, a drop of color on the black of long piling doubt, his definer. A part of him wanted to preen with misguided pride that he's reduced Deidara to a drooling, blabbing mess. The devil on his shoulder kept whispering that there must be a less delirious explanation for Deidara’s… curiously submissive state.

Heat got to him anyways. The sight made Obito’s heart clench, ache far from just mindless carnality. Grunting low, he lifted Deidara’s hips off the mattress, crossed legs high around shoulders entered from a slightly different angle.

Swift motion sharply threw Deidara’s head back, eyes rolling back into skull with every inch he pushed inside, ferocious but slow.

“Ahhhhh!”

The wanton scream made Obito jerk. Bolts of electricity wrecked chaos through nerves, heightened his breath and clenched jaw. Beads of sweat rolled down the stiff muscles, cock swelled inside the taut heat, springing grunts up his throat. Obito gulped hard, willing the heart to stop pounding. In vain, pulse kept on drumming, overriding what scant sane thoughts lust hasn't eaten away. Yet, he wanted more. This wasn’t enough.

Deidara being loud can hardly be called a novelty. He's been vocal the first two times too, clawing at his shirt with terrific persistence, demanding to be touched, used, torn apart. But this… this was different.

The dominance that Deidara wears as armor is gone. He was utterly, hopelessly vulnerable, and a taste of this addictive trust made Obito’s mouth dry. He couldn't stop looking, mapping out every contour and line of Deidara’s body, moving with feverish frenzy, rams not quite landing as intended. Golden locks spread around Deidara’s head, like a mockery of a halo, face burned like he's on the verge of fainting, eyes glittered with tears, some shed, some kept in rein. He looked ruined and was, gorgeously, painfully so.

Skin slapped against slick skin, lewd noises echoing inside Obito’s head, Sharingan burning into skull; it flared on its own, he was too gone to care. Each time his hips would meet the back of Deidara’s tights, he'd make some sort of a sound, be it a tattered gasp, long moan or a low groan. Like he's in too much pleasure. Like Obito has it in him to make him this good. There’s no way. He didn't dare hope, weave a far too tempting dream.

Biting lips in a sign of nervousness Deidara was too dizzy to pick up, Obito repeated the motion. A wave of unadulterated pleasure washed over, tipping his chin, Adam apple rippling as he struggled breathing, no air left in lungs, just fire. The noise Deidara made as he squirmed and clutched sheets did filthy things to Obito’s brain. He groaned in turn, gone.

Honest to god, he wanted to stop. He really did. He wanted to check if Deidara is alright. If he's enjoying this, or is in pain that pride won't let him admit. Obito couldn't. Hips rocked on their own, chased selfish pleasure that can’t be called anything but an overindulgence. A spoonful of bliss, for his restrained kind, could be called an act of depraved hedonism.

“Deidara,” he squinched eyes in feral concentration and groaned, wrecked.

Deidara was relentless under him. Moans and screams strained his vocal cords, promised a sore throat tomorrow; good thing the cabin is in the back of beyond, these sweet sounds are for his ears only. His hips were rocking off the bed, helplessly trying to meet the ruthless rhythm he's set, shaky sweaty hands gripping sheets and tearing, frenzied in their want. Saliva slid from a corner of lips, tears rolled down rosy cheeks as Obito took him, mercilessly. Bed creaked under his ferocity, dangerously close to snapping, but Obito didn’t care. Couldn't bring himself to care when Deidara was reacting this powerfully.

“There!” Deidara’s eyes squeezed with what Obito didn’t dare hope are tinges of far too potent bliss. It couldn't be. Couldn't.

He must have brushed against that bundle of nerves as Deidara jumped up, electrified. “Oh fuck, yessss!”

Obscene noises of praise got to Obito's ego, overloading the keyed up nerves. Hips stuttered, breath fell short, tomoe vehemently spun, recording everything. He was helplessly turned on, dick throbbing, but physical arousal paled into comparison to the storm inside chest. Before an affect this consuming, he was paralyzed. His heart was full, overbrimming. Yet clenched in unremitting anxiety, shadows of doubt staining the bliss, whispering that he's doing something - everything - wrong.

A few shallow thrusts, and Obito managed to stop. But couldn't pull out. Despite the hollowness in the pit of stomach, he selfishly couldn't part with this stolen ecstasy. Shaking and gasping for air, he leaned on elbows above Deidara, aware that the rare and costly vulnerability must have surfaced on features. It was fine, Deidara wore an echoing.

“Tobi…” it was a small soft whimper, laced with desire that made Obito’s heart swell.

Deidara opened one of those spellbinding eyes and gazed up. “Why did you stop?” he didn't grumble but did sound impatient.

Why indeed. An answer coiled and snapped inside him, but couldn't shape into anything coherent. Obito swallowed something barbed, probably the taut tension. “You…’

He stopped, hating how unsteady he sounded, how broken. Deidara didn’t rush, didn't goad. His chakra didn't emanate aggression but something atypically mellow that gave Obito confidence to keep going.

"You're reacting”, he blurted.

Deidara blinked, confused. “Huh?”

Trust him to ruin the moment. Obito groaned inwardly, beating himself over the gaffe. He willed melted brain cells to deliver anything sensible, but that was easier said than done when Deidara was gorgeously open beneath.

A grunt, strained, throaty. “You're clutching sheets... and screaming” - and it's too hot for my waning grip on control.

“And…” Obito trailed off, traced a tear stain with a pad of thumb, soaking in the warmth of Deidara’s skin. Real. Here, with me.

He was lucky to be bestowed with a partner that could read him when words fail. A hushed gasp announced when it clicked. “That I am, hm,” Deidara purred, thick and low.

Obito wasn't breathing, mesmerized by the determination in the crystal blue irises, the absolute absence of doubt. As if onto his captivation, Deidara canted head, caught his thumb between lips and sucked. Fuck.

Obito felt himself flushing, heard himself moaning. It was too much. Not just the lewd act, but the implicit acceptance. Nonetheless, it molded into the white heat, skittering up his spine. He yanked the hand away, like burned, and gripped Deidara’s waist harder, uncaring for the bruises. He thrust with pitiless force; couldn't help himself. There was no way Deidara didn’t feel the thickness pulsing inside, how badly he's broken by all of this.

His hardly controlled desire painted a warm smile across Deidara’s lips. “That's ‘cause it's good,” he arched up to twist fingers through his hair and drew in for a sloppy kiss.

It didn't last long. Drool bridged between their quivering lips, eyes intimately locked. “You're too good, hm.”

Those words undid more than the physicality itself. Obito growled. Shaking to the bone, he latched onto Deidara’s lips, pried them open with his tongue, and took, insatiably. Got a taste of heaven. Because that's what this reassurance must be - a figment of imagination, a sweet illusion of own conjuring.

His hands roamed down Deidara’s sides, settling on hips, itching to feel that this is all real. “I am?” Obito tried to smirk, but incredulity still laced voice. Nonetheless, he moved; had to.

A breathy groan was enough of an answer. Deidara's head lolled to the side, lashes fluttering and moist lips shaping a gasp of what was now, evidently, raw pleasure. A revitalizing scream didn't rip from his throat, but Obito was given a far better gift.

Deidara kneaded a spot on the back of neck that made his toes curl, lips buzzing purrs. “I'm tellin’ you, I love it. I Iove what you're doin' to me, mm,” voice hoarse, Deidara averted eyes for a moment, cheeks crimsoning.

Embarrassment didn't linger. Deidara’s gaze dimmed with thrilling boldness. “So stop thinking and fuck me senseless already!” it was half a whimper, half a command.

Rather than obeying, Obito went still as dead, breath locked, muscles clenched. Deidara… he's intentionally yield - to him. You want me. You really want me, however I may come.

Undaunted by Obito’s speechlessness and rigid posture, Deidara got a hold of his wrist and guided it to own neglected cock, melting into the flimsy contact. He taunted the clasp around Obito’s back, quivering shins resting over the width of his shoulders, and grinded up, coaxing him into sliding deeper inside.

“Come on, you dumbass,” Deidara met the unyielding vermilion of his softened eyes with unadulterated desire, and smiled, voice playfully dipping. “You do know how to make me see stars, hm.”

Gosh. “You really want me dead,” Obito groaned, deep and long, not knowing what to do with himself. "Damn..."

Captivated and defeated, he cupped the back of Deidara’s head and buried head into his neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of flames and ashes. His heart was drumming in his head, that loud Obito was positive Deidara could hear the beats of his madness. His abating insecurity, the remedy flowing through the bloodstream. The sound of hope he never thought would dawn. Not for him.