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As he looks across the room, Sasori thinks his newest model is exquisite, nearly perfect and he wants him all for himself, hates sharing him with his class, with other artists that he models for. It won’t do. Sasori doesn’t like to share. 

“Hidan,” Sasori calls, his voice quiet, yet commanding in the small room, several of his students look up but Sasori pays them no mind, they’re just nosey and should be working, “I have a proposition for you, if you’ll see me once you put your clothes back on.”

“What kind of proposition?”

Sasori ignores him and looks at the clock. It’s exactly nine o’clock at night, “Alright everyone, time to pack up. Same time Thursday, don’t be late. Hidan, in my office once you’re dressed.” 

Hidan shrugs the bathrobe back on and belts it at the waist and Sasori pauses in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at him, “Not just in a robe, completely dressed.” 

Not bothering to hide his smirk as Hidan groans, Sasori turns away once more and goes down the hallway to his office. Inside he sits and pulls out a sketch pad, opening it to skim through pages of sketches to find a blank page and begins to sketch.

So into his art, he doesn’t hear the light knocking on his door and only looks up as it opens.

“You didn’t answer so I let myself in,” Hidan says by way of apology as he sits down on the edge of Sasori’s desk, “What kinda proposition do you have for me?”

“I want you to come to my home, I want you to model for me there. Privately. That means just you and me.”

“Oh?” A single gray brow raises, “Sounds kinda like you want to get in my pants.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. If I wanted to do that,” Sasori gently closes his sketchbook and gets to his feet, walking around the desk to stand directly in front of Hidan, “I could do that anytime I wanted. And maybe… I will.” He reaches up, lightly grasping Hidan’s chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt his face toward the light. The lighting in his office is artificial, terrible, and he never wanted to replace the bulbs more than he did then, but it’s as if Hidan creates his own light, his eyes shine like pink sapphires. He is wholly unlike anyone Sasori has ever seen before. 

“Incredible… truly exquisite… Hidan, I must have you for my collection…”

Making a face that mars his perfection, Hidan pulls out of Sasori’s grasp, “That sounds a little fuckin’ creepy.” But there’s a blush on his pale cheeks, and his voice holds a husky tone. 

“My art collection. I may teach sketching and painting here, but need models for my own works I do privately. I want you to model exclusively for me. No one else.”

“I know what that word means, damn…” Hidan grumbled, “you don’t have to keep giving me the definitions.”

Sasori soon has Hidan at his mercy; pushing him to hold poses for long stretches of time while Sasori sketches and tries to find the perfect pose. Hidan's body is manipulated by him as Sasori turns his head this way and that, trying to find the perfect angle for the sun to catch his features. Sasori lifts, and bends his arms, looking for the perfect posture to convey his vision.

It doesn’t bother Hidan much, he can take a beating, though he’s sore by the end of each session. It’s worth it though, to have Sasori’s long, elegant fingers and hands manipulate him into the perfect position.

After several sessions, Sasori has finally found the pose he’s been looking for to match the vision in his mind, and is ready to begin. Hidan will be his masterpiece, he plans ahead, has several pieces in mind he wants to do with him. 

“Hey, Sasori, I’m tired.” Hidan complains. It’s been a while, and Sasori looks up from his canvas that to see the setting sun illuminate his model. With his breath caught in his throat, Sasori orders him to stay put, he only has precious few moments before the sun sinks lower and the light changes and fades and will be lost forever.

Picking up and unscrewing a jar of liquid gold leaf, Sasori dips his fingers into it as he walks over, “Stay still.”

Hidan holds his breath as Sasori smears liquid gold onto his chest, down his biceps, he closes his eyes as he feels Sasori’s fingers on his side, dragging lower, down his outer thigh and then through his hair, tugging his head to the side ever so slightly, and when Sasori tells him, “Open your mouth,” Hidan obeys and Sasori loves having so much control over someone like Hidan.

Dipping his fingers into the liquid gold once more, Sasori then drags them across Hidan’s lips, but then Hidan’s eyes snap open and with a moan he licks those fingers drenched in gold, sucking them into his mouth. 

Eyes flicker down, Sasori sees the effect he has on him, and he knows if he wanted, he could have Hidan right then and there. Part of him wants to, but he could have him any time, he knows this.

Instead, he steps back (just as Hidan groans in frustration) to admire his handiwork as the sun sinks lower, the colors deepened. Hidan is absolutely perfect in that moment, the gold glittering in shades of pink, red and orange, reflecting the setting sun on his skin and hair, his lips, still parted, shimmer crimson, matching the flush on Hidan’s cheeks. Even his eyes have changed, their typical violet illuminated red, seeming to glow from within.

He looks for all the world like a fallen angel waiting at the gates of hell. In that moment, Sasori knew he'd never be able to let him go. Hidan is far too perfect, but he would never tell him that. 

Sasori takes several photos with his phone and then the sun has sunk lower and the moment is lost. As if on cue Hidan is moving towards him, closing the distance, not that there was much of one, his mouth is on Sasori’s. Expecting to taste a sharp metallic tang, Sasori is surprised to only taste Hidan, and a hint of blood he attributes to the gold paint on his tongue and lips. With a growl, Sasori quickly takes control of the kiss as he pulls Hidan down onto the floor.

Hidan licks against Sasori’s mouth as he opens it for another kiss, and their tongues slide against one anothers. With a handful of silver and gold flecked hair, Sasori yanks him back, the thud of Hidan’s head hitting the wooden floorboards lost in the sounds of their breathing and a moan that tells Sasori everything he needs to know: Hidan likes being treated roughly. Sasori had suspected as much, now he knew, without ever having to waste the time asking. 

He takes Hidan there on the floor, makes him his, marks him with smeared paint and teeth and a bruising grip that Hidan relishes in. Sasori is possessive, he wants everyone to know what belongs to him.  

Just one problem. 

“You’re too loud. It’s so vulgar,” Sasori tells him, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle his moans only for Hidan to lick his palm. Sliding his hand away, he pushes fingers into Hidan’s mouth and makes him suck. It keeps him as quiet as he’s going to get, but Sasori doesn’t mind all that much and bites back moans of his own.

Hours later, clean from a shower and completely nude, Hidan sleeps in Sasori’s bed covered only with a light sheet while Sasori watches; memorizing his features, admiring the marks left on his throat and shoulders. 

With a pencil in hand, he starts sketching, recalling from memory the look of rapture on Hidan’s face. 

It’s nearly morning when Sasori finally joins him, surprised when a muscled arm wraps around and pulls him close. For some reason, it came unexpected but it’s nice, Sasori thinks, he could get used to this.