A/N: So, first. Happy birthday to Naruto. And the not-happy year without Kurama. (I'll never get over him - and Jiraiya and Neji.) Another thing, I was going to post chapter 7 of my other story today, but inspiration hit me hard yesterday and I ended up making this small (really small, as compared to what I normally write) oneshot instead. Be kind, this is my first time writing angst as well as smut (I think it wasn't bad myself).
Also, I cannot express how much I adore all of you. My reviewers (and commenters, in Wattpad) AND my silent readers. You guys literally breathe life into me.
She followed him into the hallways of the hotel, her hand in his hand, her heels dangling from the fingers of his other hand.
His grip burned every inch of skin it touched.
Hinata could hear her blood pounding in her ears. She could see, feel, the whole of the man leading her to a mistake she wanted to make.
He opened the door to their room, finally letting go of her hand, and stepped aside to let her go first. She hesitated. His hand came onto her lower back, burning her skin through the satin of her dress.
She stepped inside, heard the door lock, felt him turn her around and push her to the nearest wall. She didn't hesitate to reciprocate when he kissed her. And he didn't hesitate at all.
His hand tangled into her hair, another on her lower back pushing her hips into his. He licked her lips and she let him in her mouth immediately, clutching his collar to hold him closer. His hips grinded into hers and his hand massaged her waist and hips and ass.
He finally pulled back and she took a deep breath, then started breathing harder when his mouth went to her jaw. He picked her up to reach her neck with ease and she tilted it back as much as she could. She tried to hold in her moans and her nails dug into the skin on the back of his neck.
His ragged breath tickled her neck and he groaned. "Holy shit, baby, you are just heaven."
His hips ground into her harder and faster, circling her clit, squeezing her thighs, until she stilled and then climaxed hard. Her vision flashed as her whole body spasmed and she fisted his short hair. Her hips jerked away and she whimpered when he didn't stop and kept rubbing on her, faster and faster and faster, until his movements stuttered and he finally stopped. A blush crept onto his cheeks and he buried his face into her neck and hair.
"Well," he panted. "That was embarrassing."
Hinata closed her eyes, forced herself to not focus on his pink cheekbones, his shadowed jaw, his swollen lips.
He tried to catch his breath for a minute and then picked her up with one hand on her back and other under her ass. He carried her through the miniature lobby into the single room with a large bed on the centre of the opposite wall, a mini-bar-slash-kitchenette along the adjacent wall.
He dropped her on the centre of the bed and she watched him shuck off his long-loosened tie and unbutton his shirt and throw it away. She got up to take off her dress but he climbed over and pushed her back.
She let him do whatever he wanted, compliant and non-resistant. His hand slipped under her dress, his touches soft, his mouth ghosting over her collarbone. She let herself drown in the sensations of his touch and thought about nothing else.
"You still not going to tell me your name, beautiful?" he murmured into the hollow of her throat. His hair tickled her chin, his five o'clock shadow scratched her cleavage.
She fisted his hair and tugged him upwards, kissed him and moaned into his mouth when his fingers entered her still-sensitive pussy. He pumped them in and out, slowly, leisurely.
He kissed her just as slowly and leisurely. And then he pulled away, though his fingers never faltered. Hinata didn't open her eyes.
"I didn't hear an answer, beautiful."
Hinata opened her eyes but didn't look at his beautiful, blue ones, her gaze going straight to his buckled pants, wet from outside as well as inside, with a small tent from his semi-erect cock. Her hands followed to unbuckle the belt. His breathy laugh on her shoulders made her shiver and he grabbed her hands before she could get to the clasp of his pants. His hand, two fingers slick from her juices, wrapped around both of hers held them over her head.
Her wedding ring, slipped on the index finger of her left hand, burned through the cool metal.
"Alright, alright, I won't ask again." He slipped a thin strap off her shoulders, then the other, and slowly slipped them over her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking, nicking as he went. Then his mouth enclosed her nipple and her breath hitched. He sucked and pulled at the pebbled peaks, his fingers doing the same to the other one.
His mouth lifted, as did his hand, and then it was on hers. He kissed her deeply, as if cherishing the moment, and his hand on the back of her head pushed her to him even more. She willingly obeyed. He pulled back again. His hands released hers.
Her eyes opened against her wish and she watched him, his hands, pulling her dress down her body, down and down, taking her panties with them and dropping them on the floor. His eyes never left her face, hers never left his hands. He was still wearing his watch.
He spread her legs apart and she let him, watching silently as he lowered his mouth to her core. He blew on her slit and their eyes met. She closed hers and turned her head away, focused only on his touches and nothing else.
He licked her once, and again, while two of his fingers slid inside her. His fingers pumped, not slow like before but not fast either, and he licked and sucked at her juices, occasionally circling her clit once then moving away. Pressure built up in her core, getting closer yet never close enough.
She panted, wanting to cry out, wanting to beg him, wanting to get her off herself. She did nothing. Her arm came up over her eyes, and she breathed hard through her mouth, still not making any sound.
Unintentionally, her hips lifted to ride his mouth and he swiftly retreated. Her hand that wasn't shielding her face grabbed at his short hair and pushed him into her pussy. He took the gesture as it was – the most she would concede to him. His fingered quickened and his tongue finally, finally sucked where it should have.
Her orgasm slammed into her and she gasped, pressing her face into the crook of her arm. Her thighs pressed together but he didn't let them. Vaguely, as she came down from the high, she registered her hips still moving, milking his fingers. She stopped, and he pulled them out.
He said something, perhaps more of his sweet words, but she didn't hear them. She heard the tell-tale ripping of foil and turned over to get on her hands and knees. His hands grabbed her waist and he leaned over to kiss her shoulder, her ear, her cheek. His cock pressed at her wet core but did nothing more.
"Not like this, beautiful," he breathed before flipping her on her back.
Her eyes opened from shock and she watched him lift her legs and put them on his shoulders. He lined his cock along her entrance, and pushed in straight to the hilt. His sharp intake of breath wasn't louder than her gasp. He pulled out before she could adjust to the fullness of him and thrust back in just as fast. In and out, he found a rhythm, and Hinata looked at his half-lidded eyes, slack jaw, beads of perspiration on his temples. She knew she shouldn't but she still she didn't stop.
Pleasure started building in her and then, thankfully, she stopped thinking. He kept pounding into her and she took it, breathing harder and harder. One of his went to her ankle and his lips touched the small stretch of skin he could reach, kissing and licking.
His thrusts got faster and faster and he growled, "Open your eyes, beautiful."
She mindlessly complied and he fucked her even harder and she came harder than before, her vision going black, her muscles spasming, legs twitching. Vaguely, she was aware of him holding onto her thighs tightly as rode out his own orgasm, his image just before he came seared onto her eyelids.
Seconds later he slumped beside her, nuzzling her neck while his arm laid limp around her waist. Both of them hot and sticky. He breathed her in silently and she waited for the guilt to come crashing on her.
"What are you running from, beautiful?" he asked her after some time. Second time he asked the same question that evening and second time she pretended not to hear it.
When she got home later, it was four in the morning. The familiar, quiet emptiness greeted her, still hurting after so many months. Her body felt like lead, her heart felt even heavier. She couldn't admit how much of it was guilt and how much of it was pleasure.
Dropping her heels and clutch unceremoniously, she made her way into kitchen. She popped two antidepressants into her mouth and tried to ignore the divorce papers lying on her dining table for more than two months. Still not signed, still not burned.