Fast-Paced

Stakeh – Birthday gift for Junsui Kegasu! Don't even ask where the idea came from. Just about a week or two of brainstorming. Mmhmm.

Disclaimer – Oh you don't know how messed up Naruto would be if I did…

POV - Sasori

Goin' down in it.

Just a little bit longer, I persuade myself. Just a little bit longer. There'd be that perfect moment, and—

Kinda like a cloud, I was up way up in the sky.

There it is. I feel a surge of energy; so overwhelming (just eating me up, you know?) that I nearly lose all footing when my feet touch the floor.

And I was feeling some feelings you wouldn't believe.

Instantly, stool, bar, and loneliness forgotten at my back, the crowd engulfs me like a hungry wave. There are shoves. Shoves that send me barreling into another person, which sends that person crashing into other bodies. The domino affect, happening everywhere; and we all just shove back.

Sometimes I don't believe them myself, and I decided I was never coming down.

A giddy, high feeling wraps itself around me, and suddenly, nothing matters anymore. I feel as though a recent dose of heroin has entered my bloodstream and was working its magic quickly—fast-paced, like the mass of bodies.

Beside me, a rather young person pulls two arms over their face, protecting it, as a rather violent wave shook the system of dancing; they were knocked to the floor, crying out, trying to get back up. No one noticed. No one cared. We were all high off each other.

Just then a tiny little dot caught my eye.

Dancing, more dancing. Shoving, much more of that. I feel the press of everyone around me. Claustrophobia doesn't matter anymore, though—for once I'm given a break, and that panicked sickness isn't rising in my throat like bile. I feel… good.

Another wave of excitement ripples through us. I let this one take me where it will. Fight it and it bites back, twice as hard. Then, suddenly, there's someone dancing with me.

It was just about too small to see.

Peering down for the millisecond I'm given—then we're shoving again, but not away. We're drawn closer. By us, and by the crowd. Before my eyes are ripped away from the person, I see green.

Not dark green. Just green. A shining color green, under the strobe lights.

But I watched it way too long.

It caught me, almost instantly. Like a fish might hang on just a bit longer than it should have—and then suddenly, (poof!), the fish is in the cooler.

It was pulling me down.

A pair of arms wrap around my waist, and I think that sick feeling was out on lunch break before, because now it's back—but I push it away. This relief is too great to let go of.

I was up above it.

There's a hand on my stomach. It's discreet, but by god it's still there. Its owner pushes—gently at first—then more urgently. My body comes to a halt when there's no more possible room to move back against.

That's when the lips come in.

Now I'm down in it.

They taste like nothing I've ever experienced before. Something dangerous, something that makes the sickness do a flip in my stomach.

So what? What does it matter now?

It tastes like something I probably wouldn't be able to get out of my head later.

I was swimming in the haze, now I crawl on the ground.

Depression. It tasted like depression.

There's an urgent way the tongue twists with mine, and I'm almost overthrown as the arms wrap tighter, too tight.

And everything I never liked about you is kind of seeping into me.

In a fit of confusion (and the sickening stomach-feeling), I jerk back, though not able to break out of the hold in the least. "W-what?" I hear my own voice crack over the volume of the dancing crowd.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I scare you?" a voice drawls right next to my ear, and even with the roaring music, I can hear it. And it gives me chills. Not amusing.

I try to laugh about it now but isn't it funny how everything works out.

The other hand, not preoccupied with hooking two fingers onto a black belt loop, makes itself useful by digging into my back pocket.

I guess the joke's on me.

And it was, I muse absently to the lyrics wafting over the dance floor, then am snapped back immediately when the one hand gives a little squeeze, and the other tugs onthe loops harder. The lips are pressed against mine again, forcing entrance, and that taste is coming back to me, stronger than before.

I was up above it.

I find myself drowning to the sound of my pulsing heart, to the sound of the music around us all, and I don't think I minded in the slightest. The panic feeling was still shoving against my ribcage like a bound monster, but I ignored it. I had to.

Now I'm down in it.

A little more insistent, the hand leaves my belt loops and pushes against my flat stomach as the other trails out of the back pocket, and… up my shirt…

I find myself under the influence of shock.

I use to be so big and strong.

My knees want to buckle and let my body fall forward, but the hand on my stomach grabs my hip before that can happen, while a talented finger continues to trail up my chest.

All at once they're flush up against me. When I realize the chest crushed against mine (finger playing with a nipple, half of me notes) is flat, I get the panicky feeling again.

This… this is a guy…Part of me already knew this, but I never considered myself in any way homosexual. But damn did it still feel so good.

I used to know my right from wrong.
I used to never be afraid.
I used to be somebody.

I use to have something inside.
Now just this hole, it's open wide.
I used to want it all.
I used to be somebody.

I want to know where the sudden flood of feeling came from. It's like electricity is running through my veins and waking me up. I feel alive in the haze of smoke and alcohol. Not questioning what is going on anymore, I start to respond.

I'll cross my heart, I'll hope to die, but the needle's already in my eye.

It's as though I should do something, and when I run my hands up there clothed chest and over their shoulders and around their neck, do I know that I don't just need to, I want to.

And all the world's weight is on my back, and I don't even know why.

Our lips lose contact, and teeth bite down softly onto my earlobe. Electric flowing and pulsing, I moan. There's a snicker in that ear that sends shivers racking down my spine like a broken rollercoaster.

I've opened up to the new feeling, and take it into me like a child on a sugar-high when a leg slides deliciously between my thighs.

What I used to think was me is just a fading memory.

That hand on my hip, now no longer worried about me losing balance, is halfway over my waistband as the other hand digs sharp nails into my back. I shiver again, pressing my lips to their neck as they lick and nip at my earlobe some more.

I looked him right in the eye and said 'Goodbye'.

I was up above it.

Now I'm down in it.

We're so close together, when people shove, we aren't pulled apart, which just amazes me. I usually don't like being this close to people, but right now, I don't give a flying fuck.

I was up above it.

Now I'm down in it.

The mouth moves down to my neck, continuing the soft kisses and light licks. I shiver again at the feel of their lips, and wonder—who the hell is this?

I was up above it.

Now I'm down in it.

As the song tumbles to its end, we are slowly tugged apart. I bite back the whimper of disapproval at losing such a strong embrace when their hands return to their rightful owner. Over the dark haze of the club, I narrow my eyes and try to make out who the person is.

The green again, shining now not just from the lights above, but from a darker recognition—lust, if I ever knew it.

Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.

The green-eyed youth (I can even tell they're somewhat my height, with a slender body frame, but that's about it) leans forward and presses their lips fully against mine again. That feeling in my stomach has changed; now it's twice as strong, and more forceful. I recognize it as what was reflecting in the other's man's eyes—lust.

Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.

Then I feel something being pushed into my hand, before the other is walking away, shoving others roughly with his shoulders as he goes. Uncrumbling the paper I find in my fist, I read it mutely, scanning over it a few times.

I was up above it.

D e i d a r a. 5 / 1 3. 8 PM. H e r e.

Now I'm down in it.

I wonder, still rocking back and forth between confusion and leftover want, how he got the time to write this out while in the middle of our… situation. Just remembering back on it made a slight blush stain my cheeks. It probably looked odd in the center of the still high-on-the-night crowd.

Though, in the back of my mind, I made a promise to come back anyway. Wouldn't pass something like that up again, ever.

I was up above it.

Now I'm down in it.

Ha JK, Sasori and Deidara are going to have hawt man-sex on your birthday. Hope you're happy.

HAPPY DAY OF BIRTH.