Day 17
- Sharing A Meal -
Pathetic is a word Uchiha Sasuke rarely uses to describe himself, and still, to this day, he wouldn't look himself in a mirror and depict that reflection as something pathetic-looking.
Useless, maybe. Inadequate.
But not pathetic. That roused a sense of pity, and Sasuke will not allow such things. Even if it's in complete and utter shambles at present, Sasuke has pride. Pity is a sorry feeling that leaves him feeling miserable — something he already feels enough of, thank you very much!
Thus, Uchiha Sasuke is not a pathetic man.
He's just the type to love a woman with all his heart — and sure, that's fine and dandy and all — but when it comes to those important things in bed, he can't do anything more than look pretty and kiss her a bit before coming, quick and easy, like a schoolboy still going through puberty!
Sasuke's twenty-one.
He's no boy!
He . . .
He's just . . . inexperienced. Uneducated.
Unsatisfactory.
...
At the dinner table, of all places, Kakashi gets a good look at the 'man' across from him and says, "Shouldn't you be with Hinata?"
Sasuke takes a delicate pause from his picking to control his face. Absolutely, under no circumstances, will he allow Kakashi to know the details of what happened last night. A strip of breaded chicken hangs from between his chopsticks as he considers how he should go about replying. It's true that, under normal circumstances, he'd be taking up all of Hinata's freetime since her return from her eight-day mission. Finding a good excuse for that not being the case is not an easy feat.
Bringing his food to his mouth, chewing without tasting, then swallowing, Sasuke says, "She's resting."
She very well could be, but not because of any of HIS efforts, that's for damn sure!
Kakashi, not believing him at all, drones, "Spill it."
. . . Not the best word choice he could have used, if you ask Sasuke.
"It's nothing."
"Sasuke," Kakashi sighs, placing his bowl of rice on the table so he can fold his hands at his chin, "something's up. And based on all the grumbling and self-deprecation you've been doing today, I think I have an idea what it is."
Damn. Really, he should have known Kakashi would figure it out. This sort of thing is right up his alley.
Neither one of them can get another word in, for a knock comes to the front door, accompanied by the wash of a familiar chakra.
"Oh." Wiping his mouth with his napkin, Kakashi stands with a grin. "I forgot I invited Sai over."
Great.
Not like the day can get any worse.
...
Sai, with a plate of chicken katsudon and a bowl of rice for his enjoyment, is aggravatingly kept up with the conversation thus far. "How long did you last?"
"That's irrelevant." Sasuke spoons rice into his mouth, as if to remind them of what they should be doing instead of this talk. "We're having dinner, Sai."
Kakashi, the adult, knowing very well what's appropriate and what's not at the dinner table, does not let the conversation slide.
"It's a natural thing to happen," he explains. "Especially for someone with not a lot of experience."
"Great." Sasuke glares at him. "Drop it."
Sai takes a hearty amount of dinner into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully with that familiar draw to his face, eyes dark and focused, brows slightly furrowed. After he swallows, his finger taps his chin, and he says, "Will it help if I offer some comparisons."
What? He and Ino have already — "No."
"The first time we did it, I —"
"No, Sai."
He looks at Sasuke, acknowledging the serious cut to his gaze, then turns to Kakashi for assistance. None is given — because it can't.
Another knock to the door.
"Oi! I hope you guys haven't eaten it all without me!"
Oh no.
Sasuke's screwed.
...
Naruto has the fucking audacity to act like he knows what's going on, like he's had the experience of getting his dick wet enough times to read the room and the horror dripping from Sasuke's face and just — just sit there, nodding, like he understands anything that's happening right now! He's already finished with his first serving of dinner, so the only thing that can occupy his mouth now is talking.
And talk, he does.
"Heh. You've got a lot to learn, Sasuke."
Naruto leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his skull and smirk present and cocky as hell. Sasuke would like nothing more than to punch that smirk right off his face, but digging his heel into Naruto's foot, making him jump and yip in pain, is satisfying enough.
"Boys," Kakashi sighs, "settle down."
"Don't be pissy!" Naruto exclaims. "Just cuz you don't have any control of your dick doesn't mean you can just go around bein' snippy to people!"
Sai looks up from the small tower of rice he was building within his bowl. "Is that what causes it?" he wonders. "Lack of control?"
"Uh — heh." Naruto scratches the tip of his nose. "Actually, I have no clue."
"Control has nothing to do with it," Kakashi says. "It's stamina."
Now they're judging his stamina!? What the hell does he mean by that? He's been training as a ninja before he hit puberty! He went rogue for all those years, running around, getting stronger. Hell, and with the jobs he works now, he's probably the one guy in Konoha with the most stamina!
"We're not talking about this," he mutters.
"Aww," Naruto coos. "He's shy."
"Maybe he's catching it from Hinata," Sai notes.
"We're dropping this."
"Sure." Kakashi's chopsticks rest on the top of his rice bowl, and he settles back in his chair. "But there's two reasons you'll want to learn about this sort of thing sooner or later." He lifts his hand, pressing his right index finger against his left thumb. "One is so you can start to avoid making the same mistake twice — or three times. You get the picture."
This makes Sasuke consider, if only for a moment. He'd rather not have to go through that mortification again. Descriptors like inadequate and unsatisfactory aren't words he'd like to continue to use to describe himself for the rest of his days. He'd like to love Hinata the right way, with words, with actions, with emotion. He doesn't want a shred of doubt to exist in her. Maybe sex isn't the key to that — but he feels like it has to be a part of the overall picture.
Kakashi has a crinkle to his eye, and Sasuke tries to wipe all thoughts of consideration from his brain. "And the second reason?"
There's a knock at the door.
"If you don't start listening, Sai's going to tell her what happened."
Shit.
...
Sasuke's the one who stands from the table. Naruto has his hand to his mouth, cackling, while Sai has a simple, pleasant smile. He rushes over to the door, opens it, slips out, and immediately shuts it behind him so that Sakura may not see the party of idiots inside.
"Sakura."
"Sasuke, hey!" Her grin is pretty, and she tries to reach around him for the handle. "Sorry I'm late. You guys saved a serving for me, right? I had a terrible time trying to —"
"Sakura," he tries again. "Let's — I — I'll take you somewhere. Another day."
"Huh?"
"Anywhere. Sushi. That buffet you like."
Her green eyes squint through the night. She tries to sidestep him, but he's bigger than her, so it's easy to block her entry. "Sasuke, what happened?"
He doesn't like being the one to do this, but if she came in there and heard what they were talking about, he'd never be able to recover — this, he's sure of.
"Boy talk," he murmurs. "Vile shit. We should do this another time."
Her hands land on her hips. "I've been surrounded by you lot for how many years now? I think I'm okay with a little bit of —"
"Don't make me beg, Sakura."
She blinks, blinded by the seriousness oozing from him. Her weight shifts from one leg to another, and she sighs and tried not to look too disappointed. "Okay. Another day."
"We'll pay for you." It feels like they're dismissing her. Being left out, not feeling like part of the team — that's something old Sasuke made the people around him feel. He's been trying to get away from his old self, but it seems he's come full circle. "All of us. We'll make it up to you."
She nods, offers a smile that he knows is for his sake, and is off into the street. Sasuke locks the door behind him before returning to the table, glaring at every single one of them.
Kakashi doesn't look bothered at all. "Don't worry. I've already sent a clone to explain."
"What —"
"In summary."
He pushes his foot against Sasuke's chair, moving it back for him. Sasuke, hands tied, sits back down.
"So . . . the problem is my stamina?"
"There's different types of stamina," Kakashi says.
"Everyone knows this," Naruto adds.
Sai, finished with his meal, mocks their teacher's set up and places his own chopsticks on his bowl. "You just need to build yours up."
"Right. And how do I do that, exactly?"
The other two look Kakashi's way, and he leans a tad forward in his chair, arm dipping behind his back. He pulls something from his pocket and places it on the table. A book. With pictures. And he slides it across the table in the same way and fashion that he would in Sasuke's nightmares.
"Masturbation."
...
The word echoes through the still air as the woman on the front of that book, scantily clothed, flushed with desire, stares right into Sasuke's soul. It sounds like the bells of Hell.
He knows . . . what masturbation is.
Well, knowing something and doing it are very different things, but Sasuke knows it, what it means, what it entails.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
"I'm not reading that."
Kakashi's eyes light up. "Naruto. Sai. Hands over ears."
Sai does as he's told, but Naruto pouts. "Whaaat? Lame. I wanna hear."
"Naruto."
"Ugh!" He plugs his ears with his fingers, mouth twisted into some strange line and eyes screwed shut.
Kakashi leans forward to tap a finger along his book's cover. "It's true that you don't need to read this," he says with a smile. "Thinking of Hinata might be more effective, anyway."
A wave of images flash through Sasuke's mind before he can stop them, and his throat tightens up, and his stomach rolls, and his heart leaps around in his chest. He tucks his chin close to his chest, scared that Kakashi would be able to see every detail in his eyes if he looked for too long. Standing suddenly, he grabs the book, marches up the stairs and into his bedroom, and flings the book out of his window without hesitation.
...
Weeding gives him something to do, so Sasuke shows up early to Granny Kuu's doorstep the next day, clothed in his regular garb, ready to work through sun and sweat. She doesn't deny him working an hour ahead of schedule, and she even brings the apples she was peeling and slicing outside so that she may do so while rocking. Sasuke has the slight worry that she'll cut herself while rocking, but her fingers are still and precise, so he doesn't let the worry distract him for too long.
"My son will be over any minute," she tells him. "It's good you're here. I'd like to show you off."
Sasuke's normal wit is not with him today. Instead of something like "I don't think your son will be very impressed with a traitor pulling your weeds", he just nods, settling the scarf-tied basket over his shoulder so that he might get to work. He's able to work for about ten or so minutes undisturbed, listening to the sound of blade cutting through fruit. Kuu doesn't talk much, perhaps picking up his tricky mood and choosing not to test him.
This all changes, however, when the son arrives.
It's the uneven steps on the gravel path that makes Sasuke look up from his work, wiping sweat from his eyes so that he can get a good look at the man — the awfully familiar man, he soon realizes.
Just from town comes Mr. Itoti, the very man who gave him the stink eye the entire time he was selling Hinata kunai. He walks with a cane, leaning on it heavily, and Sasuke takes brief note of the prosthetic leg he seems to still be adjusting to before looking away, not keen on staring for many reasons.
Kuu's last name is Itoti? They hardly look alike, aside from perhaps their sharp eyes and wide shoulders.
Mr. Itoti climbs up the staircase to kiss his mother's cheek, and somehow, her scowl looks like a smile — which doesn't seem possible, if Sasuke really thinks about it.
"You're late," she mutters.
"Big sale," he says. "Iruka came by. Bought one-hundred for his students."
"Good man. Nice head on his shoulder." Her eyes dip to Sasuke's form. "Unlike this fool."
He picks up the hints of teasing in her tone, but her son doesn't seem to as he looks down his nose at him.
"The traitor is your weeder?" His words are poison.
"Fitting job, no?"
"I'd rather he be in chains."
In no good mood at all, with his patience already wrung out of him from last night's conversation, Sasuke glares back and even lets his mangekyo bleed into life — for extra measure. Mr. Itoti, to his credit, doesn't stumble back like a blubbering fool. He crosses his tree trunk arms and meets his glare in kind, and the air gets tense and hot instantly.
"Get a new weeder," Mr. Itoti tells Kuu.
"You're not Hokage," Sasuke drones.
"We don't need scum here, Traitor."
"Boy." Kuu jabs her son in the stomach with the handle of her knife. "His name his Uchiha Sasuke —"
"Mother."
" — and you'll have to forgive him. Caught him on a bad day, you see. Usually, he's all rainbows and sunshine." She hacks, flem momentarily caught in her throat, before turning her sharp gaze onto Sasuke. "I imagine something happened with your 'friend', eh, Bear Wrestler?"
Sasuke snorts, reaching down to pull out a meaty weed with his hand.
She doesn't give up that easily. "Fight?"
"Doesn't matter." Oh. But when he says it like that, it sounds like there WAS a fight — so Sasuke quickly adds, "No."
"Right." Mr. Itoti rests his cane against the chipped paint of the front door, scowling. "And who would want to be friends with you?"
Cocky bastard. Remembering how the guy did a full 180 when Hinata came around, Sasuke can't keep it to himself. "Hinata."
And, as expected, the flabbergasted look Mr. Itoti gets is nothing short of satisfying.
". . . Hinata?"
"The Hyuuga?" Kuu nods to herself, impressed. "I get it. I think I know the problem here." She spins her knife on the back of her thumb before pointing it Sasuke's way. "You're quick to finish, aren't you?"
Does — Does he just GIVE OFF the vibe of that kind of guy or something!? How does everyone and their mother (literally) know about that?
Both Mr. Itoti and Sasuke share a disturbed look at Kuu ignores with ease.
"You've got a look that reminds me of my late husband," she explains, an almost wistful tug coming to her lips. "Pathetic-looking. Like your pride as a man is in shambles. Dear Daichi was always quick — like you are. Oh, heavens, he'd hardly get the chance to put it in."
Sasuke remembers Itoti Daichi. Scary-looking man with twin scars running down his cheeks. He ran the weapon shop when Sasuke was still a genin, and there were always rumors around the Academy that Itoti Daichi could kill a man with a butter knife in under twenty seconds. Knowing this . . . startling information has totally changed that memory in his head.
"Mother!" Mr. Itoti yelps
"I never really minded, of course," she continues. "I always thought it was cute."
Her son rubs his hands over his face, disturbed, while Sasuke is fighting the embarrassment from burning his ears. Finished with her apples, she bends over in her chair to set them on the top step for anyone to enjoy.
No one touches them.
Frowning, snorting, she rocks back and thrusts her nose in the air. "Daiki, close your mouth, you look like a damn trout — and you, boy. Wipe that pathetic look off your face. Did you get her pregnant? Did you fuck another girl on accident?"
"Mother, please."
"It ain't the end of the world." Pulling her toothpick from her mouth, she stabs a slice of apple from the paper plate and plops it into her mouth. "Just ask your Hyuuga 'friend' to help. I'm sure she'll be happy to."
Mr. Itoti, giving up, slides down the door frame and sits on the dusty wooden porch. Sasuke manages to fight off the heat and the exhaust and the sweat and the shame to pay attention to her words, and he pulls a few more weeds from her yard before turning his head to her.
"What do you mean?"
This gets her smirking. "My brother messed around with Hyuugas back in the day. They're skilled devils, he'd tell me. Not that I wanted to hear it, but running mouths run in the family." Her son groans, confirming her statement. "The key is stamina. Hyuugas are good at helpin' you with that."
Stamina.
Kakashi had mentioned the same thing.
In the academy, they learned that reserving one's chakra and doing certain stretches helped keep and build stamina. Perhaps there was a Hyuuga technique that helped with that, as well.
Would . . . Hinata really be able to help him with that?
Appetite suddenly ravenous, Sasuke takes a break to sit on the steps and eat those freshly peeled apple slices. There's a grumble and a shift, and soon, Mr. Itoti is next to him, chewing on his own slice.
". . . Communication is important, too," he mutters.
Kuu slaps his shoulder. "This kid has both strength and brains. Best listen to him, Sasuke."
...
After the snack and finishing up with the rest of the yard, Sasuke is quick to get over to Hinata's.
It's almost a blessing that she's so close to Hokage Tower. He's able to stop by after reporting, hooking his key into the lock and toeing off his shoes before he's fully inside. Hinata is sitting at her table, chopsticks halfway through the journey of bringing white rice to her mouth. She pauses upon his entrance, blinking.
"Sasuke?"
"I have something to talk about."
Nodding, she lifts from her chair to make him a plate. He's not hungry at all, his sudden appetite blinking away the moment he stepped into this house and saw her, pretty and glowing, with bright eyes staring right at him. Still, he sits, and he thanks her when she places a plate of food before him before returning to her own chair.
"Go ahead," she says.
It's hard to bring up what happened two days ago, but he forces himself. "I'd like you to help build my stamina."
Her brows lift in wonder. "Your stamina?"
"Right. So that . . . I don't . . . ."
It's impossible to say, but Hinata's as smart as she is beautiful, and she catches on quickly.
"Y-You want me to help you?" As expected, her face is red within the second.
Kakashi's suggestion of how to build up stamina, either with book or with fantasy, is not something Sasuke is keen on telling her. "My hands are tied."
"That — I —" She stares at their food, not expecting such a conversation to be had over the table. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." Even if it will ruin his pride in the process.
She presses the pads of her fingers together, flexing her knuckles. Time slopes by in long seconds. The buzz of outside hums through the dining room, broken only by the slide of Hinata's chair against the floor before she creeps over to his side of the table.
"Now?" she asks.
"Is that okay with you?"
He tries to stand, but her hand touches his chest, keeping him in place. ". . . H-Here?"
That tone was almost tempting, and Sasuke's mouth goes dry. "Can you . . . do it here?"
With the back of her hand, Hinata slides his forgotten plate of food to the center of the table, giving her room to half-sit, half-lean against the edge, situating herself between him and the table, his knees on either side of her. He watches her face, waiting for her byakugan to activate — the act of watching the chakra side to her skin and pulse through her eyes is magical, and with her so close, he doesn't want to miss it.
In his own little world, Sasuke does, however, miss her hand dipping down to knead that very sensitive spot at the front of his pants.
...
"Wh—" Sasuke's heart kicks into overdrive as every speck of focus suddenly turns to that hand, leaving him almost dizzy. This, believe it or not, was not what he was expecting. "What are you doing?"
Her eyes tip, and the angle lets her lashes hang low and make her look like a seductress — or — or maybe she is one.
"I'm helping you."
Wait.
Is this what Granny Kuu meant? When she said Hyuugas could help — he thought she meant some kind of secret technique. Chakra points. Meditation. Stuff like that.
This —
This is Hinata rubbing her hand over his cock, sending every kind of good feeling down his body, jumping through nerves and dancing along muscles and spasming in his lower belly. He's hard in the snap of a finger, and she's able to massage her palm over the cloaked head with ease.
"I —" Oh, Kami. ". . . didn't think you'd do this."
Her rubbing pauses. "Do you want me to stop?"
His hand, previously gripping the side of the chair, flies out to grab her elbow in fear she'll pull away. "No."
Stopping is the farthest thing from his mind. This feels so good that it's hard to come up with better words. Her hand moves again, fingers finding the zipper to his pants, sliding it down so that she may reach inside. Her thumb finds the precum beading at the head, and he groans to the ceiling when she rubs it along his glans, down the base, making him slippery and easy to stroke.
She gets, maybe, four or five good pumps in before he starts choking on his own breath.
"Wait, wait — wait."
He holds onto her shoulder, and she stops, staring at his face. Her hand stays, unmoving, and he feels himself twitching against her palm as the edge slowly pulls away. Another few seconds, and she goes back to stroking him, and he goes back to panting.
...
This continues for a while. She gets him off, leaning over with her hair slipping over her shoulder and her eyes glued to his face. When he's close, she stops, and he quakes in that wooden chair, trying and failing to calm down, to slow his pulse. When she thinks he can go a few more strokes, she continues, and he watches her thin, pale hand slide up and down his cock, skin shining with precum and a little bit of sweat.
Round 2 is unyielding.
Round 5 is torturous.
By Round 9, he can hardly take it anymore. He cranes his neck to kiss her, and she speeds up, distracted by his mouth. His feet kick out, heels scraping the legs of his chair, toes digging against the hard floor. He lifts his hips up to meet her movements, and he knows there's absolutely no way he can keep this up any longer.
"Okay," he breathes against her lips. "I'm —"
She stops.
She's . . . not supposed to do that.
His eyes open, and her face is right there. She can see the agony he's in, she just doesn't care.
"Hinata."
Her smile, though small, is conniving. "This is how we build stamina."
Is she trying to kill me!?
She starts up again, and his head falls back, and she pushes a bit away from the table so her forehead can press against his. She breathes in his pleasure and shares the heat of ecstasy flushing his skin. His hand slides from shoulder to elbow to wrist, going up and down with her strokes, pressing into her skin in a wordless plea.
Maybe she's merciful, or maybe she's impatient, but her hand quickens again, and he's rocking once more, close — closer —
And he comes.
After ten rounds of stopping just before he hits that high, he finally comes in her dining room chair of all places, both of her hands cupped around the head of his cock as he rides the waves, arching, then sloping, then nothing but a mess of wheezes and flexing muscles.
When he finally opens his eyes again, she's cleaning her hands with tissues in the living room.
One look over her shoulder gets him hard again, and Sasuke pushes out of the chair, swings her over his shoulder, and carries her into her room, where he drops her on her bed.
"That's enough, right?" he asks, climbing over her. "Just once is enough, right?"
Hell, even if it isn't, there's no stopping his libido now.
...
She's drenched.
Her face is bright red when he works off her underwear, hands flying to hide her expression when his fingers brush her warm, wet entrance. He hasn't done anything. He's kissed her, massaged her hips, and then helped peel her clothes off. Sasuke's perhaps not the most knowledgeable when it comes to adult intimacy, but he's sure just those few things isn't enough to get a girl wet.
Her eyes are covered by her hands, but she seems to be able to feel his curious look, for she says, "I liked touching you."
His cock jumps, and his sinks his teeth into his tongue, refusing for the same thing to happen again. Thankfully, he manages to keep his cool — so, maybe, his stamina really has improved.
Slowly, he lifts her hands from her face, kissing her fingers until she's giggling, and then he leans down and kisses her mouth as his thumb rolls her nipple. Hinata shivers and arches, chest pressed to him, and her moan is light and sweet, burning him.
I love her. Looking down at her, flushed, eyes glittering with desire, this is all he can think. I love her. I love her.
Over and over, it repeats. It sings through his ears. It rattles his ribs.
Her hands tug his hair in a way that tells him she's ready, so he (skillfully, mind you) slides on a condom and pushes the tip inside and —
And — fuck — he's definitely not close. No. Hell no — definitely not.
He stops, and that's for Hinata's sake.
Is she a virgin?
It doesn't matter. He'd heard that even if you aren't a virgin, it can still hurt if you haven't had sex in a while and your partner isn't careful. So Sasuke is very — very — gentle as he pushes in, centimeter by painstaking centimeter.
Oh — Good Gods.
Her hand was — but this is —
Shit.
He can't think about it. He tries to focus on the blurry outline of her face, on the lines of uncomfortableness slowly ebbing into pleasure as she gets used to him inside of her. He nips her collar bone, causing her insides to flex, and that causes his spine to almost pop out of his back.
"Sasuke," she whispers, hands gently lying against his back. "I-It's okay."
This is . . .
Well.
This is a lot of things — but when Sasuke pulls out, thrusts back in, and chokes on a moan and grapples with his own orgasm — okay is not one of them.
Damn it. His one hand is keeping him stable above her. He wants to help her, to trace his fingers down her stomach, to tease her clit — but with this angle, he can't. And if he sits back so that his legs support him — then he wouldn't be able to kiss her — and she's as hungry for that as he is.
He's slow, trying to prolong the inevitable. From below, her hips lift, pushing against his, sending him deep into her.
"Hinata, wait."
Her eyes open, watching every thought and worry crossing his face. She smiles, brings his mouth down to hers, and continues to lift into him — not stopping — sucking him deeper and deeper until, again, he's leaning into her, gasping, shivering.
Fuck!
...
Her arms cross over his back, preventing him from leaving her hold. She's warm and soft, and if he weren't so ashamed, he'd never like to leave.
"Sasuke," she says, "I think the issue is sensitivity, not stamina."
He's not sure how she gathered that until he realizes — oh — he's still hard.
"I don't mind," she whispers into his hair. "Actually, I . . . think it's sort of cute."
. . . Cute?
Isn't that what Kuu said about her husband? Is that going to be him in the future? Will all the children come up with stories about how Uchiha Sasuke travels the lands, burning down entire villages — all the while, in the privacy of his home, he's always at the mercy of his wife's hand?
"Do you hate me for thinking that?" she asks.
Groaning, he presses his face against her neck. "I can't hate you, Hinata."
"O-Oh." Her fingers trace his spine. He can hear her heart racing. "I love you, Sasuke."
Every part of Sasuke burns with desire. "Don't say that in this situation. It's dangerous."
"I love you."
"Hinata—"
...
When he comes home, he marches over to Kakashi's bathroom, kicking it open to find the old man leaning against the sink, in the middle of brushing his teeth.
"You're in a good mood."
"You were wrong," Sasuke mutters. "It's sensitivity, not stamina."
Kakashi gives him a look, then goes back to brushing. "Masturbation helps with that, too."
"Oi."
"I have six more copies of the book you threw out, in case you want it."
"I don't want your damn books!"