Itachi is freezing.

(She registers this when she slams him hard into a door and smashes her lips against his, tugging off the belt in his black Oshima uniform and placing herself between his thin, almost effeminate legs, and, without any hesitation- (Some people call it Making Love, but they know it's just sex, just teenage sex against a boy's locker room door.)

His skin is covered in rigid bumps and his lips are chapped from the hard winter they'd suffered, strips of dead skin peeling away in their hard kisses, because neither of them are chaste and neither of them act that way.

His blood is cool.
His eyes are ice.

(The only intervals between the freeze are the moans and cracks of flesh into tile.)

Deidara is burning.

(She registers this when he grabs her by the hair and yanks her onto a table, pulling her legs apart and fucking her into some sick oblivion of morbid, sexual screaming and sweat tasting to sweet to contain as much saline as it does.)

He is burning in his lips that are harder than she'd expected and the erratic, violent slams of his cock somewhere inside of her enough to ignite whatever Itachi had doused her of. He is burning in the bombs he sets off in between her thighs, twisting her flesh into black, pyromasochistic scars that she wore with a sick pride.

(She gluts in his flames. Fire is beautiful.)

Tayuya is crazy.

(They both know this, and they both can see her dramatic schizophrenia in the alterations between her inferno of angry curses and the flashing of fists and the anger, anger, ANGER! Itachi knows, and the expanse of barren, music making, masochistic beauty, the one Deidara knows. They both know she's crazy because they fuck her together, and the spectrum of fire to ice and back again flashes before their eyes in their own forms of temporary insanity, and they all find is disgustingly-)

On Monday it never happened.
There are no strings attached.
Ever.

(-Beautiful.)

--

Another Oshimaverse story :D