Note: This my first attempt to write a fanfic. Please be kind to me π
. Also, children, look away please.
Sasuke secured the last of his shinobi tools into his pack, the familiar weight a comfort against the unfamiliar pang in his chest. The silence of his sparse apartment was punctuated only by the rustle of his gear. He was almost ready. Another long-term mission, another stretch of solitary travel and covert operations. He was used to it, or so he told himself.
A soft, hesitant knock at his door broke his reverie. He paused, his hand hovering over the buckle of his satchel. He wasn't expecting anyone. With a practiced swiftness, he moved to the door, his guard instinctively up. He opened it a crack, his visible eye narrowing slightly.
Hinata Hyuga stood on his doorstep, a small, woven basket clutched in her hands. She was wearing a simple lavender dress, a soft contrast to the dark uniform he was accustomed to seeing her in. Her cheeks were flushed, a delicate pink against her fair skin, and her gaze, though shy, met his with a surprising directness.
"Sasuke-kun," she began, her voice a little breathy, "I⦠I heard you were leaving early tomorrow."
He simply grunted in acknowledgment, opening the door a little wider. He didn't invite her in, but he didnβt close it either. It was a silent compromise theyβd fallen into over the past few months.
"I⦠I made you something," she continued, offering him the basket. The aroma of freshly cooked food, savory and subtly sweet, wafted from it.
He took the basket, his fingers brushing hers for a fleeting moment. A spark, not of static electricity but something warmer, passed between them. He glanced inside. Neatly packed bento boxes, a small thermos, and a handwritten note tucked beneath a rice ball.
"You didn't have to," he said, his voice softer than he intended.
Hinata wrung her hands slightly. "I know. But⦠it's a long journey. I thought you might⦠appreciate something home-cooked." Her eyes flickered to his, then away, then back again, a silent question in their depths.
He found himself holding her gaze a moment longer than necessary. Heβd grown accustomed to her quiet presence in his life, to the unexpected kindnesses she offered without expectation. The shared meals in his apartment after a difficult mission, the brief, meaningful conversations during training, the subtle way she always seemed to know when he needed a moment of peace. The space between them, once vast and cold, had slowly but surely warmed, filled with a comfortable, if unspoken, understanding.
"Thank you, Hinata," he said, the words feeling foreign yet genuine on his tongue. He knew it meant more than just the food.
"I don't want you to go," she whispered suddenly, her voice cracking the silence. The confession hung between them, raw and stripped of her usual hesitance.
Sasuke set the basket down on the small table by the door. He didn't pull away. Instead, he reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Hinata..."
"I know you have to," she said, stepping into his space, her hands finding the front of his cloak. "But tonight... just for tonight, don't be a shinobi. Just be here. With me."
The restraint Sasuke had practiced for years snapped. He pulled her into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing out the rest of the village. The air became thick with years of unspoken longing. When his lips met hers, it wasn't the tentative brush of before; it was a hungry, desperate claim.
His hands, usually so precise with weapons, were feverish as they found the zipper of her lavender dress. He eased it down her shoulders, the fabric pooling at her feet, while Hinataβs trembling fingers worked the fastenings of his cloak and shirt. Soon, they were both stripped to their undergarments, the sight of each otherβs bare skin causing a momentary, breathless hitch in the room.
Sasuke reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as his gaze swept over her. "You're beautiful, Hinata," he whispered, his voice rough with an emotion he could no longer hide.
He led her to the small bed in the corner. As she lay back, Sasuke knelt between her legs, his tongue finding her sensitive skin. Hinata let out a soft, melodic moan, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as he pleasured her with a slow, deliberate focus. When he moved up her body, his mouth replaced his hands on her breasts, sucking and teasing the peaks until she was arching beneath him, breathless and begging for more. Despite his usual confidence, Sasukeβs hands trembled slightly as he moved to remove the last of their barriers. Hinata was flush with a mix of desire and a sudden, sharp nervousness.
"I... Iβve never..." she whispered, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.
"Neither have I," he admitted, his voice a low rasp.
The confession brought a strange, clumsy tenderness to their movements. There were awkward bumps of knees and hesitant fumbling as they figured out how to fit together. It wasn't the practiced grace of shinobi, but something far more human. Sasuke moved slowly, guided by instinct and the soft hitches in her breath. When he finally pushed inside her, they both froze, the sudden fullness and the sharp sting of the unknown drawing a sharp gasp from Hinataβs lips. He waited, his forehead pressed against hers, until her body relaxed and she began to move with him.
The rhythm they found was frantic and unpolished, driven by the looming deadline of dawn. Every friction, every slick slide of skin against skin felt amplified. Hinata arched beneath him, her fingers digging into his back as the tension coiled tight. Sasuke leaned down, his mouth returning to hers in a series of bruising, deep kisses that tasted of desperation and promise.
He didn't stop there; as he moved within her, he shifted his weight, pulling her legs higher to deepen their connection. His mouth found the swell of her breast again, sucking and swirling his tongue over the sensitive peak while he maintained the steady, rhythmic drive of his hips.
Needing to feel her differently, he gently rolled her onto her stomach, urging her to push up on her hands and knees. From behind, he entered her again, his hands gripping her hips as he set a new, more intense pace. Hinataβs head fell back, her soft cries filling the room as Sasuke reached around to continue teasing her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.
Sasuke felt his own control slipping, the years of repressed emotion surging forward with such intensity that his vision bled into a familiar crimson. The Sharingan spun to life in his eyes, not for combat, but as a visceral reaction to the overwhelming flood of connection he felt with her.
He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear as he gripped her hips even tighter. "I want to leave more than a memory in you," he rasped, his voice thick with a raw, primal need. "I want to fill you... I want you to carry what we've made tonight until I come back for you." "I love you," Hinata choked out, her voice raw. "I love you," Sasuke echoed, the words torn from him with equal ferocity.
With a final, desperate thrust and a guttural groan, he felt the intense heat of his ejaculation bloom within her, a visceral seal of the promise they were making. They collapsed into each other, hearts hammering in a shared, ragged tempo.
As the first grey light of dawn began to creep through the window, the red in his eyes faded back to black as he held her close, her head resting on his chest. The mission was still there, waiting. But everything had changed.
"When I return," Sasuke said, his voice low and gravelly, "Iβm not going back to the compound. And you aren't staying at the Hyuga estate."
Hinata looked up at him, her pale eyes shimmering. "Sasuke?"
"Weβre leaving the old lives behind. When I come back, we build something of our own. No more secrets, no more clan expectations. Just us."
It was a decision that would ripple through the foundations of Konoha, a defiance of their lineages. Hinata nodded, a fierce, new resolve in her gaze. "I'll be waiting. And I'll be ready."
Sasuke shoulder his pack, the weight of the bento and the memory of her touch fueling him. He didn't look back as he leapt onto the rooftops, because for the first time in his life, he knew exactly where he was coming home to.
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