Illicit With You
Part 1
A knock disturbs the stillness in Sasuke's apartment one evening. The clock has just struck nine on a summer evening. He finds Hiashi Hyuga's eldest daughter at his doorstep and wonders how she even found his unit. The Hyuga girl-no, the Hyuga woman- has a rough quality to her tonight. With a body that compels the eye to stare and her nineteen years of age, Hinata Hyuga is much more a woman than a girl. He gives her a once-over, eyes lingering on her bust for a moment that lasts longer than needed. He ticks the checklist: neat, modest, inconspicuous. Classic Hinata Hyuga. The only anomaly he cannot account for is her thorny demeanour and the piercing glint of determination in her eye.
He never receives guests and intends to maintain that. He does not care for Naruto's complaints about his inclination to says that solitude will only prolong his reintegration. He says he'll still be viewed as traitorous scum long after his sentence has passed. Unfortunately for Naruto, he has no use for what anyone thinks of him.
"May I come in?"
Her voice conveys a sense of fortified readiness. Readiness for what, he cannot guess. He sees no reason to turn her away so he allows her in. She steals a glance at his bare chest and enters. The perfume of her hair lingers with him after she walks past him. He gets the sense that he is granting a tempest entrance into his abode but dismisses the thought as paranoia. What could she, toothless as she is, possibly do to turn his life upside down?
She stands in the lounge, ignoring the khaki sofa. He feels like a sheep walking to the slaughter as he follows her. He stands imposingly close to her, to unnerve the trespasser for the sake of it. He bolsters the intimidation with a glare.
"What do you want, Hyuga?"
He spits her clan name like a slur, clinging to past prejudice. Hyuga versus Uchiha. He does not know why he holds on to the age-old disdain. It is hollow and feels more like a borrowed jacket than something that truly belongs to him. A half-hearted nod to the dead, perhaps?
The abrasiveness of her demeanour makes him question whether she has come to start a fight. That would be preposterous. A fight on what grounds? He has barely ever paid attention to her existence let alone talked to her. Well, except for that one time at Naruto's party some nights ago. Her skimpy black dress had made him pay attention for once. His eyes had roamed to her throughout the evening. He had never imagined she would grow up to be such a feast to the eyes.
"Sasuke," his spine tingles from the way her voice cuts like a chilled dagger, "I want you to fuck me."
First, he wonders when Hinata Hyuga learned to be so vulgar then he wonders if she has lost herself to madness. The statement steals the words from him and he is quiet for an enduring moment. He deems her declaration insincere.
"Get out. I don't have time for your little games, Hyuga."
The lines in her expression sharpen. She reminds him of Sakura in a rageful moment. No, it's different. There is a silent quality to her aggression. She does not remind him of Sakura. She reminds him of himself.
"You were eyeing me at the party. So here I am on a silver platter. Fuck me."
It dawns on him that she is serious. Her unfaltering gaze convinces him of the absence of any insincerity. He sweeps his eyes over her from head to toe. He is only slightly enticed by what he sees but the image of her in that racy black dress lives on in his mind. The memory ignites something in him. The idea of obeying her whimsical request appeals to him but he hates feeling coerced so he tells her to leave.
"No," she answers defiantly.
She unzips her jacket, slips it off and tosses it to the side. The air in his lungs pauses movement. He feels a spasm in his groin. She is wearing nothing but a fishnet top underneath. The fishnet top leaves none of her upper body a secret. She takes off her sandals. Her pants follow. She does it without breaking eye contact. He does not stop her from undressing. Hinata Hyuga stands in his lounge in nothing but underwear and a fishnet top. He takes in the cream of her flesh with suspenseful breaths and fails to quell the desire throbbing in his nether regions.
Perhaps she hopes to sleep with him to spite someone or prove some childish point to herself? There are very few things he despises more than being used. Drinking in her nakedness, he decides he doesn't mind being used this time. He grabs her neck, tightly but laxly enough not to suffocate her. Her pulse spikes beneath his fingers. He feels her swallow. The way her tongue darts out and licks her lower lip dries up his last drop of self-control.
"It's your funeral."
He kisses her, violently. Without a morsel of the gentleness one would show to their love. She kisses him back. She kisses him more forcefully than he had imagined her capable of. They find their way to his bed in a tangle of eager limbs. He recoils when she tells him she has never been touched by a man but gathers his nerves and sees the deed through. He takes her innocence without looking back. They are joined together in what could only be described as a vulgar mockery of lovemaking. It is harsh, callous and jarring. An affront to love. A base quest for soulless sexual gratification and nothing more. In the depths of lust, he sees her as nothing more than an object.
When it is finished, he decides to rob her of some of the satisfaction of bending him to her will. He pushes her off him, fetches her clothes from the floor and throws them at her as she lies panting and dazed.
"You can now piss off to wherever you crawled out from."
Hurt mars her expression. Maybe one day she'll cry when she recalls her first time. He silences the prickle of guilt by reminding himself that she came to him on her own. She dresses and storms out of his apartment without saying goodbye. After she leaves, he does not think of her again.
Three nights after their night together, Hinata Hyuga knocks on his door again. He opens the door to light-coloured eyes simmering with resentment.
"What is it now?"
She lets herself in without being invited. His eyes trail after her hips as she walks. She stops in the middle of the lounge and faces him with her arms crossed.
"I want you to fuck me again."
He smirks.
"I don't jump at your beck and call, Hyuga. You don't get to walk in here and tell me to take my clothes off as you please."
He says this but he already knows he will succumb to her advances. The tightening in his nether regions and the excitement building in his core tell him so. As she is walking towards him, a daring bounce in her step, he is already estimating how long it will take for them to get naked.
They shed their clothes and blaspheme love. It is a battle of wills, a mutual assertion of dominance. There are moments where he is taken aback by the deeds performed by the woman who used to be timid, little Hinata. He feels so alive he forgets how suffocated he feels in Konoha's walls. He forgets how he feels like he has been wasting away for the last two years serving the three-year sentence forbidding him from leaving Konoha. Hinata Hyuga is a dizzying stress reliever. The idea of regularly getting lost in her flesh, her skin, her scent - even subduing her defiance - fascinates him.
When their unholy union reaches a climax, Hinata bites down on his lip so hard that it bleeds and a jolt rushes down his back. As if doing the most innocent thing ever done, she licks the tiny droplets of blood from his lip. The uncanniness of her behaviour injects some sick pleasure into his veins and leaves his head spinning. As if night changing into day, she innocently draws him in for a kiss. He closes his eyes and shifts his head to catch her lips. Just as he tastes her breath, Hinata shoves his face away and pushes him off her as though he is disease infested. Hinata dresses and leaves without waiting to be told. His ego is bruised. He feels like a toy discarded by a child who has lost interest in it.
He stops counting the times they have slept together after the fifth time. Sleeping with Hinata becomes a mainstay in his life. She shows up on random evenings, enters his apartment without greeting and throws herself at him without a never talk. He knows every inch of her body but he does not know even the most basic details about her life. Everything about them besides the sex is mechanical and surgically impersonal. He secretly commends Hinata for her ability to treat their bedroom activities so transactionally. It is odd coming from someone of her soft disposition but he does not dwell on it.
Their collaboration only exists within the walls of his apartment. One day, he crosses paths with her at the Hokage's tower. On another occasion, he sits across from her at Ino Yamanaka's jonin promotion celebration. Save for a few instances of extended eye contact, they ignore one another. With the coldness he shows her, even by his standards one would imagine that he hates her. He does not hate her. The longer he shares his bed with her, the more ridiculous the thought of hating her becomes. He also does not treat her so frostily because of his indifference to her. He is not indifferent, not anymore. He is enchanted by her.
He hardens himself because he is afraid of the power she has over him. The power she has to corner him and leave him no escape route whenever she dangles herself before him like a slab of meat to a starved beast. He is discomforted by how vulnerable she makes him feel. All she does is wave her body like a magic wand and he crumbles to her will. He treats her like an unfeeling object to give himself a false sense of immunity to her. To fool himself into feeling invulnerable to her charms. Three times a week, those are the average number of times she comes to him.
Six weeks pass after Hinata's first appearance at his door. One evening, torrents of rain start pouring while Hinata is writhing beneath him. She taunts him with her eyes as if ridiculing his efforts to pleasure her. He roughly seizes her by the neck to put her in her place. She sinks her nails into his back but he resists the urge to wince. There is always a power struggle between them. A relentless war for dominance. The struggle comes to an impasse on most nights. He has found an unlikely match. Their nighttime activities come to an end but the rain does not let up. Hinata uses the ensuite bathroom as has become a habit. The trickle of urine is masked by the rain.
"You're getting better at this," Hinata says with a cheeky half-smile as she picks up her underwear off the floor and wears it. As she is turning, he sits up and grabs her wrist. He verbalises his thoughts before having an opportunity to deliberate on them. He knows he'll change his mind if he deliberates.
"Leave in the morning. There's no need to get caught up in this rain."
Hinata's mouth parts slightly. He knows he is breaking some unspoken rule of engagement. A rule he established. The show of kindness does not fit the tone of their affair. Hinata gawks at him for a long moment before eventually nodding. His generosity discomforts him but he suppresses the feeling. He had been inside her two minutes ago. His face had been buried in her bosom just moments ago. He cannot find it within himself to kick her out like a filthy dog when it is pouring so heavily.
"Thanks," she whispers with a faltering smile. The smile solidifies.
He realises she has never smiled at him. He does not count the cheeky, flirtatious smiles she gives him. Those are a product of lust. This particular smile feels like it's from the heart. The mattress depresses as she lies on her back beside him.
"Tell me, Hyuga, why me? Dozens of guys would kill to have you. They'd treat you like a princess and not just be interested in sleeping with you."
She sighs.
"I did it to spite Naruto at first. I couldn't get him to see me as more than a friend so I wanted to spite him by sleeping with his best friend."
"We're not best friends."
She turns on her side and faces him.
"That was stupid because it wouldn't hurt him. He wouldn't even know I slept with you."
Her tone has a tang of bitterness to it. The far-off look that appears in her eyes makes him think the conversation is finished but she goes on speaking.
"Now, I do it because it defies every idea people have about sweet, innocent Hinata. No Imagines sweet, little Hinata can let herself be fucked like a whore by a guy who doesn't even care enough to call her by her name."
She is on the verge of laughing.
"No one thinks I'm even capable of saying the word fucked. I enjoy behaving contrary to people's concept of me. Even if it's in private. I guess sleeping with you makes me feel alive in more ways than one."
The next time they sleep together, he does not tell her to leave and she shows no intention of leaving. She lies on her side and silently watches him until she drifts off to sleep. From then on, she always leaves in the morning.
"Can you treat me like a lady for once, Sasuke? Do you have to come in while I'm peeing?" Hinata complains from the toilet seat as he rummages through the wall cabinet mounted above the bathroom sink.
She is wearing an old shirt of his and socks that are too large for her from the pile of clothes he permitted her to use. The nights have turned chilly and he is not heartless.
"Go piss at your own place if you don't like how I do things here."
He does not have the patience to let her finish using the bathroom before scavenging for painkillers to ease his headache nor does he have the patience for her whining.
"You were a bit... Are you not feeling well?"
He spares her a derisive glance.
"It's none of your business. I'm not your little boyfriend."
He shrugs her off because he does not wish to feel even more vulnerable against her than he already does. He ignores the displeasure that seeps on her face. He leaves the bathroom with no luck finding any painkillers. Hinata finds him lying on the bed with his eyes closed and straddles his waist. The pounding in his skull prevents her from stirring his desire.
"Get off me, Hyuga. I'll screw you some other time."
"That's not what I'm doing," she answers. "I can help you with your headache."
He does not ask how she knows about his headache. She lightly presses his temples, her fingertips aglow with chakra. His headache subsides until it disappears.
"There."
She leans down and kisses his forehead."My usefulness goes beyond"-her hand settles on his crotch-"being able to help you with this."
She smiles and winks at him, extracts herself from him and lies on her side. He appreciates that moment more than he is comfortable admitting.
They start talking. Not just talking in the strictest sense of the word like they have been doing since she started sleeping in his apartment but engaging in meaningful conversation. She tells him of her difficult upbringing at the Hyuga manor. He tells her of his time away from Konoha. They talk about the Academy. Most of the time, she is the one who speaks while he listens. He sees no harm in discussing the past. It is dead anyway. There is now an extra toothbrush in his toothbrush tumbler. It belongs to Hinata.
He comes to learn that she sporadically stutters when she speaks of her childhood - an echo of the past. He discovers that she speaks slower rather than faster when she is excited. The first time she asks him how his day was, he feels suffocated by the question. He is gripped by the feeling that she is violating some unwritten law.
"I don't see how that's any of your concern," he answers.
It bothers him, speaking about their present lives. It is different from talking about the past. He fears that discussing his present and future with her will place her in the foreground of his life rather than the background. If he can contain her in the background of his life, in his bedroom and his past, he feels like he can reduce her significance to him. He feels that he can prevent unwanted attachment if he can keep her locked in a tiny box.
"You're right, I should remember my place. I almost forgot I'm just your fuck toy, Sasuke," she says before rolling to her side and turning her back on him.
After Hinata's unappreciated probe into his daily life, they regress to barely speaking. The sex also coarsens into an even more ungracious affair. One morning, he notices that Hinata no longer keeps a spare toothbrush in his bathroom.
One afternoon, Naruto informs him that 'poor Hinata-chan' was hospitalised the previous evening after a mission gone wrong. They are eating at Icharaku Ramen. Naruto relates how Hinata bravely faced a band of low-level rogue shinobi to save a pair of civilians from being raped by the gang. Five genin-chunin level shinobi by herself, Naruto stresses. Naruto adjusts the scarf shielding his neck from the harsh winter before warming his cold-chapped hands on his warm but quickly cooling bowl of ramen.
She had been on a delivery mission, a simple C-rank. Hinata had stuck her neck out for strangers in a seedy village and had come home barely breathing with a broken collarbone, fractured ribs, a shattered jaw, four nonfatal stab wounds, three broken fingers, severe chakra depletion and a mild concussion. Naruto knows the details of her injuries because Sakura had told him.
"She'll be alright though," says Naruto, somberly stirring his ramen. His voice has lost its usual brightness. "We were all pretty shaken. It's Hinata. I know it's dumb to think that way but she's almost too sweet to get hurt like that."
"She's a big girl," he tells Naruto before resuming eating. His ramen suddenly tastes stale and the bite of the cold has seemingly intensified.
"You find this so easy to brush off because you don't care about Hinata like we do. You've never bothered yourself about her or even talked to her."
He is gripped by the staggering impulse to drive his fist into Naruto's face. He leaves with the lie of having to attend his monthly check-ins with the ANBU correctional officer monitoring him. Naruto remarks that he still cannot believe that the great Sasuke Uchiha has been relegated to a year 1 Academy instructor as part of the reorientation terms of his pardon. The comment nearly makes him give in to the impulse to punch the future Seventh Hokage.
His legs carry him to the hospital as though they have a mind of their own. He enters the hospital lobby but stops walking as he approaches the medics manning the reception desk. He is about to turn back and leave when one of the medics asks him what she may assist him with. He asks for Hinata's room.
Hinata's room is on the third floor. He finds her staring at the ceiling with a blank gaze. She is dressed in a hospital gown. Her skin is paler than usual, sickly pale. The twinkle that lights in her eyes when she notices him irks him. It irks him as much as his being there. He feels out of place.
"Naruto said you're too sweet for such injuries. Has the idiot even met you?"
Hinata smiles faintly. He is forced to strain his ears to hear her withered voice when she speaks.
"It can't be helped. That's the only side of me he knows."
The profound weakness of her voice lights a bonfire of anger that he cannot contain.
"You look pathetic. I hope you're fucking ashamed of yourself. Next time, leave the hotshot bullshit to morons like Naruto. What does it help to play hero and end up a corpse?"
The twinkle dies from her eyes. Hurt twists her expression before it cools down to impassiveness. She raises her hand, the movement of her hand is heavy with lethargy, and gives him the middle finger. She redirects her eyes to the ceiling and echoes his own words back to him.
"Stay out of it. I don't see how this is any of your concern, Sasuke. I'm not your little girlfriend."
He feels foolish for losing his temper and for being there in the first place and leaves.
Two weeks pass without Hinata coming to him. It is the longest they have been apart since they started sleeping together. In the absence of any internal or complex injuries, he is certain she made a full recovery two or three days after he saw her at the hospital. They are in a standoff. He feels it in his bones. She is either staying away to punish him by denying him access to her or she cannot stand to be in the same room as him. He counts every day.
By the time she relents, he is hanging on the edge by his fingernails. She finds him starved for her to the point that just laying eyes on her is enough to sate some of his hunger pangs. She comes knocking one uneventful Sunday afternoon and lets herself in without invite when he answers the door. She fixes her mouth and expression to condemn him but he does not give her a chance to speak. In the blink of an eye, he is frantically kissing her against the wall while groping her behind and she is fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants.
The desire crackling between them is twofold what it has ever been. Each touch, each caress, each kiss, each thrust is an injection of electricity, a stroke of fire. She drags him down into the deep end. He is baptised, washed in the flames of passion. He is purified of all deprivation between the sacred flesh of her inner thighs. For a while, he forgets himself and Hinata seeps into his every pore. Everything that is not of her ceases to be. It feels like an apology. He is not certain who is apologising to who.
They have an unspoken agreement about personal space after intercourse. An agreement to maintain a no man's land on the bed. That afternoon, Hinata breaches that agreement. She presses herself against his side, lays her head on his shoulder and drapes her harm over his torso. He knows he should push her away. Instead, he reaches for her hand and intertwines their fingers. She plants a kiss on his collarbone and squeezes his hand. Her breath tickles his breast with each exhale.
"You could have been nice to me, you know. Asked how I was doing or politely encouraged me to be more careful next time. There was no need to be an asshole," she whispers, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. There is something about being touched out of choice rather than out of practical necessity that nourishes some impoverished part of him.
"You were right, it was none of my concern. What you do outside this apartment is none of my business," he says.
"I wouldn't... I wouldn't resist if you chose to make it your business."
The idea repulses him less than he thought it would but he cannot allow such a situation. The only space he desires her to occupy in his life is his bed. That is the only arrangement that is appealing to the fear in his heart. He fears the monster that waits beyond the point of simply being bedfellows. As he lies there with Hinata affectionately nestled into his side with her hand -small, delicate and arousing his protective instinct- intertwined with his, he wonders whether she will be his undoing.
Thank you for reading. I have not forgotten my other projects. I will continue them eventually. Life has just gotten in the way. Until next time.
{The Immortal Sage}