.

.

.

.

The lights are bright, blindingly so. His skin is smooth as marble beneath them, stony bone structure and the fine lines of a classical god statue. Or perhaps an angel, fallen, and carrying the traces of ozone and despair. His dark eyes burn.

"Sasuke! Hold her closer."

The angel frowns. He does not like to be corrected. The blonde in his arms smiles brightly and cuddles in closer, arching her butt against his leg. Her hand stretches over her shoulder, her fingertips brush the strong line of his jaw.

His fingers tighten around her small waist. Breakable. Adjusts his stance so she's leaning back and dependent on his support and embrace.

The shutter snaps closed in three succinct clicks.

"Awesome!" Deidara approves.

Obviously.

The blonde photographer examines the shot immediately.

The angel is frozen. A red silk scarf is looped around his neck. The sleeveless white shirt accents his muscles. His girl is tucked close to him, protected from any onlookers. He is the perfect wanted man.

Sasuke pushes Ino away. Discreetly.

"Sasuke don't be so mean!" Ino whines.

"It's hot." And so it is. Beneath the lighting's glare Sasuke is almost sweating. He doesn't. Of course. Statues don't sweat. They glare from their pedestals at their admirers, thinking of stars. Or is that angels? Do statues envy angels, or angels statues?

"Deidara, can we go?" Ino calls.

"Unh," Deidara flaps a hand at them, not taking his eyes from the camera.

"Was that a yes?" Ino asks Sasuke.

Probably not. Sasuke stalks of the set, loosening the silk scarf from around his neck.

"Ten minutes," Deidara shouts realizing his models have flown.

Sasuke snatches up his iPhone and slinks to a make-up chair. He leans back and kicks leather shoed feet onto a counter. A container of powder tips and spills a poof of white cloud into the air.

His fingers are already typing across the screen, drawing up the light-hearted dancing keys of Impressionism. He places headphones over his ears.

"Ah!" Sakura screeches. "Sasuke, you'll mess up your hair!" The make-up artist rushes up to the site of the catastrophe.

Sasuke glares. "Is that even possible?" he inquires.

"Of course!"

Bullshit.

"Take those off!" she orders.

He pushes them down.

Can angels shed tears?

"Don't give me those puppy eyes! I swear whoever taught you that is a menace to mankind." That's true. "They created a monster! Let me fix your hair now," she gusts.

Sasuke may or may not sulk in the chair as she rifles through the cluttered counter for highly-flammable, biohazardous gorilla glue.

"What are you listening to?" she inquires from behind the chair.

"One second."

Sakura is surprised by the response. A response! A positive one! From the Sasuke Uchiha. Her smile is brighter than the set while she eagerly awaits the glimpse into Sasuke's life.

She doesn't see his smirk.

Sasuke pauses the innocent music and draws up a video. He turns the volume up for Sakura's- well, benefit may not be the word. But it's for her sake.

Do angels have DNA? The code for sadism is hidden within the human genome, wrapped around a histone, packed away until abruptly unraveled by some external stimuli. Is this gene in those fallen angels, or does it form around the time of impact?

"Ah! Deeper, please, oh god-!"

The pink head tilts to the side in confusion. "Um, Sasuke, is that…?"

Mmm, yes, yes it is.

Sasuke shifts to the left side of the chair so she can peer over his shoulder.

The pixels of the screen are formed and compiled by man's lust for all that is good into the image of a blonde Adonis, hammering-

Oh god yes.

-into that small welcoming region on a pale, dark haired man.

"Eep!"

A smirk graces Sasuke's lips. He settles the headphones back over his ears.

Thank god she's gone. Scared off by perfection.

He licks his lips and considers. He already has the video up…normally he wouldn't watch porn at work. It's unprofessional. Desperate. Shameless.

What's shame?

On screen the dark-haired man groans. The blonde's fingers comb through his hair, holding his head, tilted back into the floor. His other hand holds his hips down as his thrusts into him rock the body.

Naruto can feel the pressure growing. Like a fire, hammering against bars, eager to get out, burning him from the inside. The muscles in his butt and thighs are twitching from the exertion. And from the look on Sai's face he's about to come. It's the only time when he looks genuine.

Such a bad actor.

They're both about to lose it.

FOXY: Don't come!

"Don't come," Naruto growls into Sai's ear.

Sai gasps and writhes under him.

FOXY: Don't you dare come until I order you to.

KAI: Ye-yes sir.

"Don't you dare come until I order you to." Naruto wraps his hand around Sai's member and squeezes.

"Ye-AH! AhhH!"

Hot liquid spills over Naruto's fist.

Fuck.

"Cut!"

Sai's fist punches his gut.

Naruto pulls out and collapses to the floor beside Sai. He groans.

"Dammit Sai what the hell?!"

"Naruto, what the hell?" Kakashi says. He stands above the blonde, ever present clipboard in hands.

"Blame him!" Naruto screeches, pointing at Sai. He groans again. His movement sent a painful tremor to his hard cock. Completely comfortable under the eyes of his director, costar, and various cameramen, he wraps a hand around it to resolve the issue.

Kakashi whacks his hand with the clipboard.

"OWW!"

"If you can't do this scene properly, you can deal with the consequences," Kakashi says.

"It's HIS fault! He can't control himself, and I understand, I mean look at me I'd come to, BUT it's still his fault."

"No, you are the dom. That is your role and you have to embrace it on and off screen and control him."

Something about that snaps an internal cool in Naruto. He lays there sweaty and hot and naked beneath the glare of cameras and lights. This must be what Hell feels like. Hot, and irritating, and watched over by scornful, judgmental glares. He can feel the liquid coming from his pores but it isn't cooling him. He wants to jack off and the irritation of not being able to is growing. Sai's fluids are drying on his hand. His skin is sticky. He closes his eyes and tries to beat down the frustration that scratches at him.

A wet washcloth slaps down on his chest. Sai crouches next to him. "Poor dickless. You just aren't cut out for the part are you?"

"You're the one who messed up," Naruto growls.

"Don't be too hard on him Kakashi. I am sure he tried his hardest."

"You're too kind to him Sai," Kakashi calls back from where he's giving instruction to the camera crew. "You must be disappointed to have such a weakling play your master."

"Disappointed…" Sai murmurs.

"Seriously?!" Naruto squawks. He wipes his face and fingers down and climbs to his feet, careful of his growing-sore-problem. He throws the washcloth at his director's feet. "I'm going to lunch."

"I will come with you," Sai announces.

Naruto cringes as he pulls on pants that chafe and a t-shirt that immediately sticks to his skin. Sai watches him as he pulls on his own clothes.

"Don't sneak in any fucking off camera," Kakashi calls to them. "Wouldn't want Naru to lose his stamina."

"Shut the fuck up!" Naruto yells. "What do you want to eat?" He asks Sai as he holds the stage door open for his costar and ushers him through.

"Wieners," Sai answers. "What?" Sai asks in response to the lowered-brow, incredulous stare Naruto is giving him.

"Sorry, what do you want to eat?" Naruto tries again.

"Hotdogs. Haven't you heard of them?"

"…Yeah. I've heard of hotdogs."

"Okay."

They get the hotdogs from a street cart near the studio and take them across the street to a small park, mostly concrete and metal. They sit on a bench of twisted iron beneath a small tree with small leaves that affords only a small patch of shade. Naruto wipes sweat from his forehead. Across the street is a huge advertisement. A raven-haired man holds a beautiful girl in his arms, showing off his sex appeal and expensive suit.

"Sai, can I ask you something?" Naruto asks as he munches on god-only-knows-what smothered in ketchup and good city stadium mustard.

"Sure."

"What do you think of that guy?" He waves his half-inhaled hotdog at the advertisement.

Sai frowns. "He's hot."

"Why do you think they posed him like that? Holding that chick?"

"It shows off his leg. And exposes the full length of his arm so that the muscle is showing and the sleeve ends right at his wrist, drawing the lines of his body to his hands, which are appealing. With his head at that angle, his cheekbones are catching the light, as are his lips, yet his eyes catch just enough light to make them smolder. Actually," Sai cocks his head. "It's a perfect shot."

"Artistically you mean."

"I guess."

"But it's a complete lie. I mean, look at his face," Naruto says excitedly. "It's obvious he doesn't love her. He probably doesn't even like her. But they threw her into his arms because they look fabulous together and rich and beautiful and they'd probably have beautiful babies and own the biggest house and fastest car. So they throw 'em together and snap a photo and hang it near some park so all the workers can sit on their lunch breaks and pretend to be that couple. Am I right?"

"I don't know."

"Wrong answer Sai. Soon all the workers are gonna stare at it so long, they won't notice anymore how untouchable those two are, all they'll notice is how much they want to be them. So the guys will run out and buy a suit like his and the girls will buy her necklace and they'll put 'em on and play dress up and go to parties with other people playing dress up. And sure they'll all feel pretty but in the end they'll just be surrounded by a bunch of people who want to be part of a fabulous couple but think the best way to go about it is buying necklaces and suits that make 'em all untouchable. Because when it comes down to it, that's just some pretty guy holding some chick he doesn't even like and standing in front of a camera to get a paycheck just like theirs and no suit or necklace will ever make them a real couple. You don't have a clue what I'm trying to say do you?"

"No."

"Sai…"

"Yeah?"

Naruto sighs. "What do you really think about that guy?"

"He's hot."

"So you'd fuck him?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Naruto says. He sits back against the hot metal bench and forces his dry throat to swallow the rest of his hotdog. "I think I would too. If I ever got the chance." He sighs. "Jesus it's hot." He squints against the glaring sun to stare up at the advertisement- no, just the raven-haired man really. "Hey Sai, what are you doing after work?"

"Going to my… friend's."

Naruto looks at him in surprise. "You have a. Friend?" Naruto asks cautiously. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not surprised you have a friend but he's like, a friend friend, right? You don't fuck or have orgies or, I don't know, stalk guys together, do you?"

Sai looks confused. "Why would I want to stalk someone while I was with him?"

"I don't know. It…just seems like something you would do."

"I'm not a stalker dickless," Sai says tonelessly.

"Listen, I didn't mean to offend you, I was just curious." Naruto's sunblind, blue-eyed gaze returns to the gorgeous model. I can't believe this guy has a friend. Kinda suspicious. "So you don't do anything weird?" Naruto presses after a few minutes of quiet. "I'm kind of having a hard time picturing you just hanging out with-."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Sai interrupts. "We do weird stuff all the time."

"I can't even tell if you're kidding or not."

Sai stands to throw away his tin foil. "What's there to kid about?"

"I'm sorry, but you're kidding right?" Sasuke says turning away from Itachi's cupboards. "You think you have a guest coming over tonight?"

For now the angel is grounded. Tied to the earth by the pains in his stomach called hunger. But he picked the perfect place for it. The gold light from his brother's kitchen is spilling out into the gardens. Itachi himself is seated at the heavy oak table that is covered with kitchen herbs and lavender. The purple petals waver in the breeze that swirls in from the screen patio door to cool the room. It carries the heady scent of summer's bloom into the room.

"Yes, I believe so," Itachi replies. He's wearing his glasses and flipping through a book laid on the table.

Sasuke gives him a funny look before turning back and rummaging through Itachi's cereal. "Since when do you give them a choice?" he wonders over his shoulder.

Itachi returns his look with a flat one of his one. "I don't."

Sasuke laughs under his breath. "Sure you don't," he mutters.

"What are you looking for?" Itachi asks. The breeze ruffles the forgotten pages of his book.

"Something edible. Tasty. Yummy. Sugary." Sasuke smirks. "Maybe something that looks delightfully like myself?"

Itachi rolls his eyes. "We're not starting this again."

"So your guest won't be Sai?"

"He doesn't look anything like you."

"Enough that it's creepy. How is your sociopathic boyfriend doing?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Itachi says lowly.

"That's news. When did he dump your sorry, lovestruck ass? Because I haven't seen anyone else around here for quite some time. I'm certain you're exclusive at least."

"Stop being purposefully mean. There's some pasta in the fridge."

"Finally." Sasuke crows in delight as he grabs the tupperware from the fridge and dumps it on to a plate.

"You're shameless."

"I know." Sasuke comes up behind his brother and lays his chin on the top of Itachi's head. His arm curls around his brother but instead of an embrace it snags the glass of white wine sitting in front of him. He drains half of it and sets it back down. "I read your newest bestseller," Sasuke tells him.

"What did you think?" Itachi asks.

The microwave dings and Sasuke collects his food and brings it to the table. "The ending sucks," he informs his brother.

"That's what you say about all my happy endings."

Sasuke shrugs. "It's true about all of them."

"Anything else?"

"The main character was good," Sasuke says. He takes a bite of food and swallows. "Realistic. It was almost too painful to read about him- to know that he fell in love with someone who could never love him back."

"I'm glad you approve of him," Itachi admits quietly.

"Hn. That ending though…"

"Too unrealistic?" Itachi asks cynically. Bitterness is laced into the question.

Even Sasuke feels small saying it. "A little." He takes another bite of the pasta. "I think though-that it could've worked. Better. If you knew the other character better."

"What do you mean?"

Sasuke shrugs. "The one he was in love with seemed flat. Frankly, I'm surprised you even made the bestseller list this time around. You didn't seem to know your character at all."

"Yeah…I thought the same thing."

"…I'm sorry." They both know they aren't really talking about just the character but the person that it is based off of as well.

Itachi sips at his wine. "It's hardly your fault."

The quiet grows heavier. The breeze coming in from the gardens swirls over their bare feet. "How's the new story coming?" Sasuke ventures.

Itachi smiles tightly. "Don't ask."

"Writer's block?"

"Something like that. I think…" Itachi swirls the gold liquid in his glass. "Maybe I'm just tired of love." The admittance is a slip. From a god to his angel. It's the atmosphere, the garden, the calm and the dark outside the door. There comes a time in every god's life where he feels the burden of a world already created. He wishes he could go on breathing life into new places, sparking realms from mere imagination. But for the moment he is grounded. Stuck in this world with hunger pains and yearning and want tearing at his middle. Just like the angel. The air here is stale and growing staler.

It's fucking hot. A dry heat that lingers even throughout the night. The wind moves sluggishly but only manages to throw warm air back at the city. The lights look brighter in the dryness.

Naruto is in an alleyway. The breeze is reaching this dark corner of the world but it still feels like hell to him. It still smells like the sun-roasted bricks of the day and heated blacktop. Even the metal smells tangy with heat. Car lights briefly light the alley before sliding away.

He can't get rid of it. That irritating itch beneath his skin. It won't leave no matter what he does. It's boiling his blood and killing his reason. It's turned him into the city's resident demon.

His shadow is thrown up onto the building that looms above him. It is a black writhing monster that claws at the brick and slides over windows. He isn't alone in the alley. He's laying into bodies with his fists and boots and dodging baseball bats and fists and boots and knives. No guns thankfully. Bullets are difficult to dodge.

"You think just 'cause you're in a gang you'll always have someone, huh? That's a bunch of-." He slams his fist into some teen's face. "Bullshit," Naruto pants out. "You're always alone. Your whole gang is illusions. You act big an' tough around each other 'cause you've got this pack mentality." He ducks a metal bat and kicks the kid's kneecap. "But that's just it- that mentality is all in your fucking head." With a wild grin he throws himself at the scared bunch. "The minute you've got problems-." Kick. "Your brothers-." Punch. Punch. Crunch. "Will run. And then you'll be worst off then-." Dodge, follow up kick. "Ever before. Think about that you motherfuckers."

The only one thinking about it is the only kid left in the alley. He's folded against a wall and breathing heavily. He's holding his ribs stiffly. The others are gone, tennis shoes pounding the cement in a rapid staccato, but not as fast as their pounding hearts. Cowards. The itch is still there. The heat is pressing him and Naruto wants to beat up this asshole wearing a red handkerchief over his mouth more than anything. Little punk probably stole candy from grannies and Social Security checks from babies.

Naruto stretches a hand above his head and decides against messing up the last kid. He wants something fun. Something juvenile and petty. Something that doesn't leave some snotty brat with a broken rib and no friends and the realization that he hasn't ever had any real friends. Naruto leaves the stifling alley.

As he's walking down the street someone recognizes him from his acting. He breaks the asshole's hand and warns him not to touch a man's ass ever again. Dumbass. He saunters into a liquor store. It's not important what he drinks. At this point he knows it won't scratch the itch. But it's a habit and one that's hard to break. Harder to break than the bones in a man's fingers anyways.

He buys the liquor and accepts a blowjob from the twink behind the counter. It always starts the same. Naruto hides a smile at the shocked look of recognition, the holy-shit-this-is-the-guy-I-jerk-off-to-every-night-and-dream-about-fucking-me look. He smiles outright at the clerk's flirting and decides to skip the chuckles and the laughs for a more dominating approach. Normally he'd joke around a bit first but the itch is returning, the adrenaline's still in his system, the twink has blue hair, and what the hell. He flips the sign on the door to closed and switches the lights out. Atmosphere is important. He vaults onto the counter and swings his legs over the clerk's side. He tugs the guy closer and directs his mouth by using his light blue hair as a tether.

As the mouth works over his cock a certain magazine catches Naruto's eyes. It's dim within the store but dull orange light leaks in from the street. It falls on the glossy cover, illuminating the same raven-haired model as the one in the park. Naruto murmurs encouragement and dirty words to the slick tongue coating his cock and flitting around the tip like a hummingbird. He likes the feel of his hardness against the roof of the clerk's mouth, likes that the guy is so eager to drink from him. But his mind is on the model now. He thinks maybe sex would be better if it was that mouth sucking his cock. He bet the raven has a gorgeous voice to match his looks. Naruto gets hot thinking about the model on all fours and calling out his name. Naruto comes and shoves his fan away. It's a good thing the guy's a natural sub. The cold push only gets him hotter and Naruto bets his quick departure makes the guy a hard fast follower. He flips the sign back to open as he leaves.

A plan has formulated in his mind and he stops by another store for a quick purchase.

Soon he finds himself crossing the park of concrete and metal. The hotdog seller isn't here anymore but the two models are ever-present, gazing down at the deserted street with a smirk and superiority and fakeness. Naruto extracts a single can with a red cap and drops the plastic bag at his feet. Metal clangs against the cement. He shakes the can in hand. The metal ball that rolls and jiggles inside is music to his ears.

He works diligently. He likes the hiss from the can. The aerosol scent and the illegal nature of his work are giving him a special kind of high. Soon the model isn't caressing his partner. He's just dancing with a dead girl. Her face is blanked out and her throat slit. Her heart is ripped open under a mess of black monsters and the raven has a mass of gold and black feathers trailing behind him. Naruto frowns. This isn't what he wanted. He wanted juvenile. He wanted mustaches and funny faces and cartoon penises. He considers adding a penis to the male's face but can't do it. His is the only dick that should touch the man's face. Somewhere in the recess of his mind Naruto realizes he might have fallen in love with this model's face. Well, not just his face. His body too. But mostly it's his eyes.

Naruto stares up at the raven and wonders how it can be so fake and so real. It's his eyes. They tell the truth. The truth is that he doesn't love the faceless girl in his arms. The truth is he isn't an untouchable angel. The truth is he's lonely too. Naruto can see his soul in those black eyes.

It's like capturing a soul. Breath frozen, locked away into the metal cage of a camera. He's beautiful.

Deidara tosses his blonde hair over his shoulder and wiggles closer to the roof's edge. He twists the lens.

Rule #1 Be aware of light.

The city around him is sparkling with electricity, carefully captured and contained like fluttering fairies inside orbs of glass. Red taillights paint blurs of light onto the black canvas of night. Its yellow-white counterpart mirrors the brushstroke. In the window across the road Sasuke is in his bedroom. The light is imperfectly perfect. It shadows half of the subject, while lighting the rest in a blue haze. It flashes darker and lighter every now and then as the scene of his laptop changes. It makes his eyes flash darker.

Rule #12 Note subject's natural beauty.

Noted. Dark bangs are thrown across his high cheekbones. His lashes brush against his skin whenever his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. His lips are parted. Pants escape through them, fluttering his hair.

Deidara can't get enough of this specimen. The male model is taking the world by storm, dazzling everyone with his beauty, but no one as much as Deidara. Sessions in the studio are never long enough. So Deidara has expanded his territory.

Rule #21 Note subject's schedule/habits.

Noted. In bed at 1:34. Not sleeping. Definitely not sleeping. Eyes half open, locked onto the computer screen. Deidara can't see whatever is playing from his current vantage point.

Rule #30 Try new angles.

He's tried them all. The building next to this one, rooms on the fifth, sixth, and seventh floor, in both buildings, the roof from the one on the other side, sadly shorter. This rooftop. It's the best by far. It stands higher than Sasuke's window allowing the delicate downward angle of 6 and three quarters degrees, from Deidara's best estimate. It allows him to look down on the bed, see the form of legs and hips and torso. The arms that snake under the thin sheet and form a bulge at the junction of his legs.

Rule #44 Eliminate obstacles. Any obstacles.

Deidara has done his best. Sasuke's drapes have mysteriously disappeared into the fourth dimension. The glaring streetlight on the street has a burnt out light bulb no matter how many times it is changed. The old lady in the next room over who had the gull to interrupt Sasuke last week for god only knew what reason has moved to a small city on a rocky coast known for its lobster and winter storms. At least that's what her letter to the landlord says.

Rule #61 Protect subject.

Yes, Sasuke was protected. No one could hurt him, or his gorgeous face, or that wonder bit of manhood that he grasps at so desperately. His hips are bucking in his eagerness. Deidara smiles. It is his- the angel's youth, his passion, is locked away forever in his camera. Deidara kneels on the roof silhouetted by the moon, cleaving away at the angel's very being and fettering away bits of his soul like a reaper.

His breath is being stolen away. His lungs flare, desperate to expand with air but hardly any enters down his throat. A kaleidoscope of flickering dots dances across his eyes. Smears of dark have long since clouded over the edges of his vision and are trickling closer and closer to the center.

The leather around his neck slips another notch, tightening and closing his passageway. Sai tries to shift, his body fighting its airless state. His arms are tied above his head and he tries to relieve the tension by pulling up against the ropes but slips. He can feel a muscle tear as his weight jerks back down. He gasps for air but the leather is too tight now. It's constricting a vein as well. Sai can hear the blood pounding in his ears.

His heart is hammering an alarm in his chest. Blood is coursing down into his cock. It grows hot and aches for friction even more than his lungs ache for oxygen. He feels something against his gaping lips, swollen with stagnant blood, and then it's gone. His cock is half-hard but it's ignored.

Abruptly the arm restraints release him. He would fall if he were not caught and held up. He feels fingers brushing the raw, sweaty skin under the leather and then that too is freed from his neck.

"Relax," his master says stepping away. Sai immediately collapses to the carpet in front of the man. His legs are folded under him, his hands splayed out on the white threads. He coughs and sucks in breath.

The man bends down to lower his mouth to Sai's ear. His long dark hair cascades over his shoulder. "You handled that better than everyone else I've tried it on."

Everyone…else?

His master's long fingers, the ones Sai could draw in his sleep by now, run through Sai's inky messy hair. They draw his head to rest against his master's shoulder. He can feel a light chuckle ripple through his master's body. "Still no reaction? Tell me, Sai, did that feel weird?"

Cruel.

Sai jerks his head up quickly, looking his master in the eye for the first time since tonight's game began. Itachi's eyes are beautiful. "I…don't know."

"No?" Itachi asks. "Don't tell me you still don't know what that word means?"

You know I don't. You above everyone.

An arrogant, godly smirk lifts Itachi's mouth. "It seems I still haven't taught you well enough."

Cruel.

"An example of weird is feeling two things at once Sai. Things that are very different. Like arousal." His hand presses into Sai's stomach and slides down on his abdomen. Heat blossoms beneath his palm. "And fear." The hand travels up to the bruise around Sai's neck. Itachi's fingertips skim over the bruise there before wrapping around and squeezing. "Are you afraid Sai?"

"No."

"Are you certain?" His thumb presses into the soft hollow of Sai's throat.

Sai nods against the restraint of the squeezing hand.

"Hmm." Itachi has a pleased smile, Sai thinks, but he ducks his head before Sai can be sure. His hair brushes Sai's chest. Sai shivers at the silky brush that tickles his skin. "Weird is feeling love and lust at the same time," Itachi whispers against his heart.

You're cruel.

When he reemerges Itachi's eyes are dark. Intense with something, but Sai doesn't know what. It's just another nameless emotion. Itachi's lips seek out his neck and gently kiss the purple line that runs around his neck.

I think.