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Author's Note: Yes, I've upped the rating. You're welcome.
Midnight, in C Minor
Chapter Six: Internecine
(adj.) mutually destructive
"This isn't what you want."
Hinata frowns when he says it, her eyes boring into his shoulder blades. He never looks at her these days - not since their last training session. Not since it ended with him atop her, kunai discarded, his hands at her wrists, and the way he stared down at her, panting, heated, eyes flicking between her lips and the brace of collar bone only barely exposed by her loosening jacket just a moment before she groans her discomfort, shifting a knee along his thigh, her back arching almost imperceptibly and she stills at the breath he sucks between his teeth. Her lips part in an attempt at protest but she doesn't get the chance, because then it's his mouth pressed to hers and it's hard and it's fumbling but it's hungry and it very nearly scares her (it very nearly would if she hadn't deftly moaned against his tongue - if the sound at the back of his throat in answer hadn't thrilled her beyond recognition).
No. He would look at her after that.
Hinata purses her lips in finality. "Then why am I here?"
He turns then, just slightly, just enough to catch her gaze over his dark shoulders, and if she was smart enough she would stop here. She would stop this very second, turn and leave through the door she came, never visit his house again, never remember the heat of his fingers grazing her thigh or the wet press of his tongue in the hollow of her throat.
But Hinata is not a smart girl. Not about the right things, she thinks, or maybe it's the wrong things, but she doesn't care at this point, because she's tired of not being this kind of girl.
The kind of girl that knows exactly what she wants.
The kind that gets it.
"This isn't what you want," he repeats, this time lower. This time a warning. He says it as he turns fully to her, stalking up to her.
She doesn't back into the table behind her, though some part of her wants to.
(But she is also tired of being that kind of girl.)
Hinata frowns in mild indignation, swallowing thickly. She breathes in slow, deep - exhales just as purposely. "I know exactly what I want, Uchiha." The words come out more sure than she expects, but she doesn't let the surprise linger on her face. Instead, she steps into him, the promise of his proximity catching the breath in her lungs, and he doesn't stop staring at her, eyes dark and narrowed, even as his breathing deepens. She is close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to catch the tight clench of his jaw, close enough to feel his heated breath on her cheeks, close enough to touch -
But Sasuke catches her by the wrist before she can finish raising her hand to his cheek and she thinks maybe this is it, maybe this is the moment he laughs at her, scoffs his amusement, runs her out of his house with a mocking 'Next time try the dobe' and her throat tightens reflexively, her hand curling into a loose fist lest he see her trembling and she takes that hated step back, her hair gliding back over her cheeks and he -
Sasuke is instant, hands hooking beneath her thighs and raising her up, dropping her back onto the table behind her roughly, her hands instinctively grasping at his shoulders to steady herself as she yelps in surprise and then he's pressed into her, right there between her legs, yanking her hips back to his with a growl.
Hinata blinks wide eyes up at him, her cheeks flushing, but her legs are also simultaneously closing around his hips and when he runs a hand up her side, thumb grazing her breast, the excited gasp that leaves her makes him hiss in impatience.
Just before he dips his head to hers, he stops, fingers digging into her hip, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "This will not end well, Hyuuga," he pants against her mouth, a sudden, unexpected moan escaping him when she rolls her hips into his, and he has to slam a hand down to the table to keep himself from bucking into her.
Hinata bites her lip at the reaction, taking a deep breath, and then she winds her hands behind his neck, fingers weaving into dark hair, and braces her mouth at his ear. "Then don't let it end," she whispers bravely, far braver than she feels, but it doesn't matter a moment later.
Because then his hand is gripping her hair almost painfully, and her head is tilted back just before he kisses her, except it isn't a kiss at all, it's more like a demand, and when his tongue slips into her mouth, hot and slick, as hungry as the last time, and when he grinds his hips into hers, his desire apparent, and when he pushes her back against the table, following her down as he climbs atop her, his fingers already tugging impatiently at her waistband, and when he pulls her lip between his teeth and groans her name -
"Hinata."
Her name.
She realizes this is precisely the kind of girl she is.