I Don't Love You
Published on / 2 Chapter(s) / 0 Review(s)
Hidan's ever growing obsession with Deidara is finally twisting how the artist feels about the reaper, thus throwing everything and anything out of line and into hell. [Hidan x Deidara] [Kakuzu x Hidan] [Sasori x Deidara] [Other Potential Pairings]
Chapter 1, Prologue
It was late. It was always late when Hidan was doing his more interesting activities. It was night that he always wasted away time for during the day, staring out at the window with bored violet-rose eyes, his right elbow resting on the sill of the window, his right hand supporting his head, chewing absently on a hangnail on his right pinky finger. His right knee bent at a seventy, sixty degree angle, as he lounged on the stiff mattress of his bed. His left leg sprawled out in a random position, his left arm resting softly on the juncture of his stomach.
The light of the sun creating warm tones on Hidan's usually pale skin, making his eyes a few shades lighter, his silver hair glittering where the sun's warm rays melted airily upon him.
But that was during the day, it was not now, nor was it what Hidan ever wanted it to be.
Now he was enveloped by moonlit shadows, a dark glimmer laced through out his eyes, the skin that was touched by the moonlight a milky white, whereas where the shadows had touched his skin was a translucent gray colour, the pale and the dark skin fading into each other where they met and embraced each other.
His hair was not in its usual slicked back form—it was now messy and wild, but its silver colour remained glittering and glossy.
His eyes were now set upon the gorgeous body that he had, once again, taken outside to the Akatsuki's private training grounds. Around him and the unconscious figure was pure forest, the leaves of trees fading from their old sunset colors to crisp greens.
The ground below was cleanly cut grass, though innumerable streaks of aroused dirt were covering quite a good deal of that pretty grass. The faint scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the subtle winds that blew. The weather was warm, especially for nighttime during the spring, around sixty degrees or so. The stars were like diamonds in the sky that night, the shimmering moon the pearl.
Blonde hair was sprawled wildly about the sleeping figure, their usually smooth, sand-coloured skin glowing faintly in the weak lighting. Some strands of hair were still covering the small mechanical eye of the effeminate face, some of the skin surrounding the eye also covered by machinery.
The Akatsuki ring that usually adorned the other's right index finger was missing. In fact, all clothing was missing—that had, of course, been Hidan's doing.
In all honesty, the reaper did not know himself why he did the things he did with the godly body in front of him. The body he could never have. The body he could only dream of having.
The black lining the lids of the closed eyes was a more gray-esque color from where the moon's light was glowing on him.
The almost feminine curves of the man's body taunted him, the thin, lithe body that was smoothly carved with faint abs.
It could never be his. He knew this—he knew this all too well.
(not his Deidara; Sasori's Deidara.)
He caressed his fingers along the smooth skin of Deidara's cheek—
No! Stop, what are you doing?!
—relishing in the feeling it brought to him. He crawled sleekly over Deidara's body like a prowling cat, straddling his hips with his own—
H-Hidan…st-st-stop! Please, gods, STOP!
—taking off his sacred necklace with the symbol of Jashin adorned on it—
—wrapping it around Deidara's wrists tightly, tying them together, pinning his hands above his head. He arched his back ever-so-slightly, allowing his head to fall down, strands of silver hair usually tucked behind his ears cascading down to lightly tickle Deidara's cheek.
His nose was barely brushing Deidara's, his chapped lips millimeters away from Deidara's supple, luscious ones…
…When suddenly his violet-rose eyes were staring into sleep-hazed, confusion-rich, vibrant green ones.
“H…Hidan…?” Deidara meekly whispered, his voice cracked and sandy from just being roused of his slumber.
Hidan said nothing.
Stop… Gods, Hidan, stop… it hurts… so much… pl-please…
Absolutely nothing. He couldn't.
“Is…is that…you…?” Deidara asked again. Goosebumps had appeared on the sun-kissed skin, visible shakes rippling through the man's body. “Please…answer…”
Hidan couldn't speak verbally. His hips pressed tighter and closer to Deidara's, his legs wrapped around the other's securely. He pulled the artist's hands up and out at an angle that forced him to arch his body inward slightly, giving Hidan better access to those luscious lips.
He pulled Deidara into a ferocious kiss, immediately snaking his tongue into the other's mouth, almost choking the other man.
Why do you do this to me…?! HIDAN??!!
He bit Deidara's plump, lower lip possessively, scraping across the fragile skin to draw a few streaks of red wine-coloured blood.
He felt the body underneath him begin thrashing, his torso jutting from side to side, his hips moving upwards roughly, his head attempting to smack away from Hidan's lips, all in an obvious attempt to buck Hidan off of him.
Hidan emptily smirked at his efforts—
(do you really think I want to hurt you?)
—receding his tongue from Deidara's mouth to bite harshly on the other's lips yet again, earning a yip from the other. He snarled at the other to cease his struggles.
(it'll only make things harder.)
Why must love be so complicated?
He pulled Deidara into another vicious kiss, not wanting to hear the choked, broken response he would have received had he hesitated. He rolled his pelvis in light circles against Deidara's in a slow, sensual manner, whispering soothing lies in Deidara's left ear [as his right cheek had been nuzzled into the dirt and grass below].
It'll be all right. Hidan knew it wouldn't.
You don't need to be afraid. Deidara had all rights to be afraid—he should be afraid.
See? It's not so bad. Yes, yes it was.
What have I ever done to you before? Everything.
Wet, distorted, glistening trails were streaking down Deidara's cheeks, pooling in his eyes before sliding down his skin, wetting his eyelashes, making his eyes a slight pink, but his irises an even more vibrant green.
Gods, Hidan loved that face.
I will never be compliant to you, Hidan! I HATE YOU!
(but what if I told you I loved you?)
Deidara was trembling, looking at Hidan with such fear-rich eyes that if one had just been looking at Deidara's expression you would have most certainly thought he was gazing at a homicidal maniac, one ready to viciously annihilate him.
(am I really that frightening to him?)
“I'll never love you, you religious bastard!” Deidara screams at him, thrusting his head back as far as it could go without breaking, exposing his long throat to Hidan.
Small droplets of liquid, small enough to have been made by a few drops of rain, had gathered where the artist had thrust his head back.
(why do I do this to him?)
Why?! Hidan, stop it, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!
Hidan hadn't answered him. Hidan never, ever had graced Deidara with an answer. He never intended to, either.
How could he when he, himself, did not know the answer?
The words Deidara had uttered and screamed before were racking through his head—
(can't get them out.)
—tormenting his brain and laughing at him—
(so fucking weak.)
—playing tricks on him like a disobedient student to his sensei.
The Jashin-follower had never been caught doing these things to Deidara. Had never been caught raping him. Kidnapping him. Putting him back in his room. Nothing.
Sasori never noticed—if he did, he had never mentioned anything to Hidan, nor had he made any attempts to obliterate him.
Deidara must have been a good little boy and not tattled on him.
Hidan didn't think Deidara knew that Sasori could have the time of his life beating out on the immortal man. That by tattling on him, he could send Hidan into an eternal world of pain.
Deidara was pleading again.
(but could it be anymore painful than the pain that was already existent?)
Hidan paid no heed to it, though the words made his heart rip further. There was no way in Hell that Kakuzu could sew this wound back up.
(I just want love.)
(it's all I ever wanted.)
All I'd ever need from you, all I'd ever ask of you.
He'd lost so much, lost everything that had ever been of any significance to him.
Deidara was everything Hidan was not—kind, fun, sweet.
Hidan was cruel, aloof, and sarcastic.
All of Hidan's previous `lovers' had merely been using him for sex, using him for money, using him for power. Because his attitude had attracted those monsters like moths to a flame.
(Why the hell would Deidara want some fucking slut like you?)
Some people just wanted him for a one-night stand. Using him like a whore.
Kakuzu thought it was hilarious; he would laugh at him, snarl and spit at him.
(Love makes you weak.)
Of course, Kakuzu did not make his previous mental and physical abuse any better, seeing as the reason Hidan was placed as Kakuzu's partner in the first place was because of the facts that Hidan could not die and that the money-obsessed man had managed to kill all of his previous partners.
Whenever Hidan would make a smartass remark to Kakuzu about `how the fuck is this lame-ass plane gonna work?' or something of the sort, Kakuzu would bring it up.
And show him photos. Photos of his previous `lovers' taking him, over and over, photos of them tormenting him.
It ripped open the scars that had been healing, making them bleed new blood.
Kakuzu himself had even taken him once. Once. And never again.
(Kakuzu wasn't afraid to hurt him, wasn't afraid to try and kill him.)
The sex had been the worst Kakuzu had ever had, but the best Hidan had ever had.
(Is that why it felt so good?)
Because you were torn to shreds and forced to fall to pieces, tears falling down your face in an opera of sadness.
Is that why it hurt so much?
Hidan had watched them. Had watched Deidara and Sasori together, had watched them out on dates, watched them cuddling together, watched them making love. The romantic side that Sasori showed to nobody else but Deidara.
To realize nobody loves you. That nobody could, or would love you.
It made his skin crawl with envy, a murderous rage towards Sasori emanating through his mind and body.
He wanted the affection that Deidara showed Sasori; he needed it.
(I don't want to be used anymore.)
That was when all the memories, all the thoughts, and all his surroundings went black, fading down into oblivion, the last thing he felt being the pain in his chest and an abnormally-large, bulky object scissoring through his stomach.
I love you…so much…
(I'm just tired…so tired…
Deidara received no answer.
He never did.
Deidara was laying there, his eyes fixated on something behind Hidan, sobbing happily, smiling.
Your love is more than enough for me.
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