Chapter Text
“I won’t set my sights on other seas, there is no need to panic”
Alvvays, “Archie, Marry Me”
There are many moments in Sasuke’s life where he regrets being alive. He’s not suicidal, so much as he would like to go back and politely tell the sperm that met the egg to fuck off, that consciousness will be wasted on him. It’d be nice if someone else could deal with his problems, even better if they could be someone else’s problems entirely.
He’s sitting in a circle with other fuck ups, arms crossed, looking at the social worker like he has grown another head. “What?”
“Sasuke,” the social worker sighs, “you have to answer the ice breaker question this week. Remember?” Sasuke had promised that, after three weeks of passing on answering the ice breaker question at the start of the meeting, he would finally do it. ‘What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?’ and ‘if you could be any animal, what would you be?’ are not questions Sasuke cares to answer. None of them get to the question that structures his miserable existence, which is ‘why me?’ and he doesn’t have the answer to that one. But you only get so many passes in group therapy, before the facilitator decides to take the kid gloves off.
“Can you repeat the question?” he asks, doing his best not to sound combative.
“What is something you value in another person?” The social worker has a twitch in his left eye. Completely subconscious, too. Sasuke only sees it when someone is being especially difficult. He feels a little honored to have driven the social worker to that emotional place. All the other fuck ups in the room, who have also been traumatized in various ways, are staring off into space. No one, save for the social worker, enjoys forced introspection.
“What?”
“What,” the social worker says, irritated, “is a value you respect in another person?”
“I don’t get it,” Sasuke deadpans, completely understanding but wanting to see how long he can get away with playing dumb. The social worker sighs deeply.
“Honesty, humor, sincerity, that kind of thing,” he says, “what is a trait that your ideal person has?”
“Indifference,” Sasuke hits back, without even having to think about it. He has a special place in his heart for the indifferent, the unsung heroes of society that go in and do their duty, regardless of how unpleasant or odious it may be. The people who can sit in traffic and let people cut them off, without honking or shouting. Government workers that sit and do the paperwork without asking annoying questions, who favor the little guy and know that everyone here just wants to get in and get the fuck out.
Sasuke wishes he could be indifferent, but sadly, it is a power that continues to evade him. The social worker blinks stupidly, a little stunned. “That’s…different.”
“I can’t help being special,” Sasuke shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “My name is Uchiha Sasuke, my pronouns are he/him, I’m feeling annoyed, and I value indifference.” It’s the most he has ever said at one time in group. The social worker sighs loudly but continues onto the next person. Sasuke stares at the clock, waiting for the next hour and a half to hurry up and happen.
**
Sasuke knows he is special; it is something that has been impressed upon him throughout his life. He’s the last of his clan, a one-of-a-kind, a prodigy, near-genius. If Konoha weren’t so attached to the mythos of its founding clans, he’d for sure be dead. He gets special treatment because of his name and the fact that Naruto and Kakashi like him so fucking much, for reasons that are beyond Sasuke’s comprehension—there really isn’t a whole lot to like about him. Many would even call his treatment preferential; according to Konoha’s own laws, he should dead, and on many days, he wishes that he were treated like most traitors. Execution or imprisonment would get him out of any and all unpleasant social obligations.
Sasuke is sitting on the roof of Naruto’s apartment building. It’s a converted house, and Naruto got the unit with a balcony. From where he is sitting, he can look down at the balcony, which has multiple plants and paper lanterns that Sakura set up. Naruto is having a housewarming party, even though he has lived here for six months, because he wanted to wait for everyone to be in town. All the people who could’ve been Sasuke’s friends are there. He uses could’ve because his brief affiliation with the Akatsuki means that Ino, Shikamaru and Chouji will always keep him at arm’s length; Kiba thinks he’s a snob; Shino is polite but clearly feels the same. Sai will never like Sasuke or forgive him for trying to kill Sakura; said as much when they were put on an Anbu team with Tenten and Neji. And those last two? They feel indifferent towards him. Sakura? He broke her heart when he came back and told her that he didn’t think it was going to work. His exact words: I just don’t see it.
Lee and Naruto insist upon his inclusion, even though everyone has very valid reasons for disliking him and wanting him gone. Sasuke is like a brother to me, Naruto will exclaim, he’s a whole piece of me! Sasuke would say that there is a reason he broke off, and that reason is that he’s inherently defective, but Naruto won’t hear it. He loves Sasuke that much, still. Lee just sees the best in people and insists that Sasuke would do the same for any of them (he wouldn’t, and they all know this, but no one corrects Lee because no one wants him to lose his innocence or faith in his fellow man).
So, whenever he comes to these parties, Sasuke never has anyone to talk to. It’s been this way since he was nineteen, and at twenty-five, he can say that he is used to solitude. He spends time with Suigetsu and Juugo when they’re in town, and he and Karin sleep together every so often, when he wants to be reminded of what it’s like to be close to someone, but it’s all loveless.
Shino gave him half a pill of ecstasy and Sasuke chased it with a beer. It doesn’t make him giddy, but it does make him feel relaxed, like his stomach is floating out of his body and he’ll never feel bad again. Sasuke sips his beer, and looks at the balcony, tilting his head when he spies Hinata standing at the railing, looking down. He thinks the back of her head is pretty—her hair is glossy, and it’s pulled up into a ponytail, exposing the back of her neck. Because he’s high, he doesn’t judge himself for his attraction to Naruto’s ex-girlfriend. She doesn’t see him, not the way he would like her to, anyway.
She turns her head and catches him staring, which would make another man gulp, but he keeps his face neutral. Hinata is wearing shorts, and a loose-fitting t-shirt, the silky kind that’s kinda sheer. He very consciously doesn’t look at the black lace of her bra, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.
“Hi,” he says in a flat voice. Hinata looks up at him, saying nothing before setting her beer down by her feet. He watches her get on the railing, and pull herself up to the roof, swinging her legs up gracefully. She stands up, and he is surprised when she sits right next to him.
“Hi,” she says softly. He blinks at her, waiting for her to explain why she decided to sit next to him. “You weren’t inside.”
“You were looking?” he asks. Hinata frowns a little, before shaking her head.
“Not really,” she hums, “I just noticed.” She looks ahead, at the evening sky, how the stars are beginning to become visible, the streetlights coming on. “I hate parties.”
He snorts, because he has never heard her express any kind of preference, not directly anyway. Through years of casual observation, he can say that she likes soft fabrics, sweet foods, and music that sounds happy but is actually sad if you listen to the lyrics.
“Well, this is a party-free zone,” he says, sipping his beer, before offering it to her for a sip. He feels floaty when she takes the bottle and puts it to her lips for a tiny sip.
“Good,” she says. She doesn’t like being inside when she’s high. Hinata likes to be in the open air, like she’s a blister. She breathes in deep, smiling softly. “Are you high too?”
“Uh-huh,” he replies, holding his hand out for his beer. She gives it back to him, not saying anything. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What?” Hinata frowns. She came up here because she didn’t think he’d talk to her, but she is very used to getting the raw end of most deals—her relationship with Naruto, when he very clearly liked Sakura, is but one example of her capacity to settle.
“I’ll pretend to flirt with you so that people will leave you alone,” he says, “no one will ever talk to you at a party again.” Sasuke says this in a serious voice, but he smiles when Hinata giggles, pressing her mouth into her elbow and looking away. He doesn’t say anything; he just smiles.
“Are you flirting now?” she asks, smiling with her voice.
“Maybe,” he pauses, “actually, yeah.” Fuck it.
“Oh,” she says, trying not to laugh. She can sense that, on some level, he was being serious, but she doesn’t know to what extent that is the case.
“Am I bad at it?” he asks, his features completely neutral now, but his lips are curved up.
“You’re not bad,” Hinata says, “just not very good.” It’s that typical Hyuuga honesty. Not bad, not good. “Just average.” A capital sin for a Hyuuga and Uchiha. Sasuke blinks, taking it in. Hinata is sincere to a fault, and he can tell from her guarded tone that she’s trying not to hurt his feelings.
Just average. His stomach and guts are floating out of his body, and he lays down and actually throws back his head and laughs. Not loudly, but it is a distinct and definite laugh. He can’t even remember what his laugh sounds like, and Hinata looks alarmed, because she didn’t think him capable.
“No one has ever said that to me,” he sighs, “just average.” Because Hinata said it, he’s going to live off of it for a week. Hinata turns away, because she feels like seeing him laugh is like seeing him naked, and she didn’t ask for that kind of intimacy—but, on the other hand, she does kind of like it. She looks ahead and smiles, wrapping her arms around her knees, taking the bottle of beer when he offers it to her.
**
Unfortunately, Hinata is very well liked, and her absence is considered a loss. She looks at him apologetically when her phone buzzes for the fifteenth time, and she pulls it out and sighs when she sees five texts from Ino, three from Sakura, two from Kiba and Neji, and one from Naruto, Shino and Chouji. Variations of where the fuck are you? Hinata never feels like she is an essential member of their group, and it always surprises her when she gets these kinds of messages.
He shrugs when she apologizes for having to leave. It’s dark, so it requires effort to get off the roof without injuring herself. The roof presses up into her tummy, and when she lands on her feet, she waves up at Sasuke. He nods and raises his beer, while she smiles and picks up her own before going back into the apartment.
Ino, wearing a pink sundress, her hair in a haphazard ponytail, is sitting on the coffee table, waving her arms for Hinata like a needy baby. They have more in common, now that they are both grown and in the weird limbo of their mid-twenties. Ino squeals with delight when Hinata sits on the couch in front of her, placing her hands on Hinata’s thighs and speaking right into her face.
“I saved this spot for you!” Hinata takes Ino’s hands in hers, since the ecstasy makes her legs extra sensitive, clutching onto them while Ino babbles. They split a little pink pill, and like always, ecstasy makes Ino extra bubbly, like sweet pink stick-to-your-hair bubble gum, while it makes Hinata feel floaty, like she’s in deep outer space, right inside of a newborn star.
“Hinata,” Ino says, “where were you?”
“I was on the roof,” Hinata replies, “laughing.” Her conversation with Sasuke still makes her feel warm inside.
“Why?” Ino asks, wrinkling her nose, “no one is out there.” Hinata presses her mouth into a line. She knows how Ino feels about Sasuke. Infatuation gave way to hatred after Asuma died, and it came out that Sasuke was working with the Akatsuki. It has simmered down into mild resentment, but Hinata knows that Ino is very good at holding onto grudges.
“I was sitting with Sasuke,” Hinata says, deciding not to lie. Ino tilts her head, sending her hair tumbling over her shoulder. The sweetheart neckline of her dress and the thin straps emphasize how naturally sweet she looks—like cotton candy. Hinata squeezes Ino’s cold hands, leaning forward while pulling them close to her chest.
“Oh,” Ino hums, “and you were laughing?”
“Only a little,” Hinata replies, pressing Ino’s palms to her cheeks. “I bet you’ll make me laugh even more.” Ino perks up at that, smiling so big that Hinata can see her perfect teeth. She’s decided that she is never going to tell Ino how handsome she thinks Sasuke is, or that he did a very good job of distracting her from how much she hates parties. It’s going to be a secret just between the two of them.
“Hinata,” Ino says, “have you ever loved someone so much that you’d eat their scabs?” They ask each other gross questions because, for both of them, intimacy is only fun when it’s disgusting. Ino has shown Hinata all of her ingrown hairs and pimples and Hinata has sent Ino pictures of every bruise, cut and blister with a description of how she got them. The point is that Ino comes by this question honestly.
Hinata hums. Everyone is on something, and the room is buzzing. Chouji and Shikamaru are in the corner getting stoned with Kiba and Naruto, laughing whenever the latter says something obnoxious. Sakura and Tenten are talking to Lee; Sakura is winding a lock of hair around her finger, while Tenten’s hands are on her hips, the two of them struggling to follow Lee’s line of thought. Neji and Sai are talking quietly in the corner with Shino; probably Anbu business, which they shouldn’t be talking about at a party, but none of them would listen to her.
“I think I would—” Hinata begins, when she feels the couch dip beside her, and she turns to see Sasuke sitting right beside her.
“You would what?” he asks, acting like it’s completely normal for him to speak to Hinata and Ino. Ecstasy makes Hinata feel faraway, but now she feels up close and intensely aware of her body. Her thighs are buzzing, and her fingers and toes feel floaty. She takes Ino’s hands from her face, as she gawks at Sasuke. “I’m waiting.” He arches an eyebrow, not acknowledging Ino at all. It strikes Hinata that one of his problems is that he occupies space as if he owns it. She doesn’t think that it’s something he is aware of, but it makes him come off as entitled.
“Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d eat their scabs?” Hinata asks. If she turned to look, she would see Ino looking between the two of them, trying to figure out when the fuck Hinata started giving Sasuke the time of day.
Sasuke blinks at the question. He can sincerely say that no, he has never loved someone so much that he would eat their scabs. “Excuse me?”
“Have you ever lusted for someone so much,” Ino says, changing the question to prove her hunch, “that you would put their scabs in your mouth?” Sasuke’s head was tilted towards Ino, but he is looking right at Hinata. The ecstasy emboldens him in ways that he would otherwise deem uncool, not worth it, or embarrassing.
“No,” he says, “but I’d like to.” He watches Hinata’s throat as she swallows, and he smirks when she forgets how her mouth works. There are some things that don’t need to be said, Hinata’s feelings among those things.
**
Hinata never replies to him; she opens her mouth to speak, and Ino decides to distract her. It’s very clear that Ino doesn’t share Hinata’s attention, which…fair. Sasuke doesn’t want to share it either, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Knowing when he’s not wanted, Sasuke stands up and heads over to the fridge. He opens it, looking for the beer he brought, when Sakura and Naruto wander in. They are bickering; Naruto wants to take another pill; Sakura thinks it’s a bad idea. Sasuke pulls out another bottle out of the fridge and turns around in time for Naruto to take it out of his hand and open it with his teeth.
“Thanks pal,” Sasuke says, as Naruto hands him his beer back.
“No problem-o,” Naruto grins the same way he did when he was twelve. I never should have left you. Sasuke would have been a better person for it—one of his greatest sources of shame is that he will never be the kind of man Naruto thinks he is.
“Sasuke,” Sakura hums, “tell Naruto you agree with me.”
“Agree with you about what?” Sasuke asks, sipping his beer. The backs of his legs are floaty, and his tummy feels tight. He looks back over at Hinata, who peeks at him from over the slope Ino’s shoulder. Sakura is too busy glaring at Naruto to notice, something that Sasuke is grateful for.
“About the drugs,” Sakura says, “we shouldn’t take anymore.”
“Don’t doctors give people drugs?” he drawls, “and aren’t you also on ecstasy?” Sakura frowns at him, a big line forming across her forehead.
“That just means that I know how to do drugs effectively,” she replies, “and Naruto should not take anymore.” Well, fuck the rest of us then. Sakura’s softness for Naruto manifests in the strangest of ways.
“Is that what Tsunade taught you?” Sasuke sips his beer, closing the fridge door.
“Among other things,” Sakura says, “I mean, I just think it’s funny that—” Sakura keeps talking, but Sasuke tunes her out. Naruto’s arms are crossed, and they are exchanging jabs, and Sasuke doesn’t feel like the content of this fight is very important. Besides, Sakura isn’t concerned about his drug use—she is worried about Naruto who, to be fair, would probably actually blow his brains out on ecstasy by accident.
Sasuke briefly tenses when he feels a shoulder press into his arm, before he smells Hinata’s perfume. She smells nice, wearing the kind of expensive perfume that smells like a feeling rather than a thing. Hinata smells happy and soft—amber and musk. Naruto has all of his fans and an air conditioner going, so it’s not as hot as it is outside, which should be a good thing but Sasuke can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to taste Hinata’s sweat. His mouth twitches at the intrusive thought, his stomach tightening further when she places her hand on the small of his back.
“Surprise,” she says quietly. Sasuke passes her his beer, watching her take a sip instead of watching Naruto and Sakura hash out their differences, as they triangulate Shikamaru into their debate, who says “why the fuck wouldn’t we want to be high and stupid, Sakura?”
“You told me that I am bad at flirting,” Sasuke says, unprompted. Hinata blinks up at him.
“Just not very good,” she hums, taking another sip of his beer. He wilts when she removes her hand from his back.
“That’s different?” he asks. Hinata nods.
“It is,” she offers him his beer, and he takes it back, watching her wander out the kitchen, back to Ino, who is playing some kind of game with Chouji.
**
His meter runs out at 2 a.m., which is when Sasuke decides to just leave. He knows that everyone probably feels bad for not wanting him there, so he decides to simply disappear instead of announcing his exit. He bends over to strap on his sandals and when he raises his head, there are two very pretty knees in his face. Sasuke blinks, wondering how the fuck knees can be so nice to look at, when he hears a throat clear.
Sasuke stands up slowly, making eye contact with Hinata the whole way. “I’ll walk you home,” he says, unprompted. Hinata smiles, and wordlessly slips on her sandals, which she never bothered to unbuckle. He looks back into the apartment, and sighs with relief to see that no one has noticed Hinata’s decision to leave. She steps out the door first, and Sasuke only notices when it closes softly. Hinata is halfway down the hall; he has to jog to catch up with her.
They are both still feeling the ecstasy; it’s a hot summer night, and Sasuke makes them stop to buy a bottle of water from a vending machine. He offers to buy Hinata her own bottle, but she shakes her head. I want to drink your spit, she says, without a hint of irony or sarcasm. Sasuke’s throat locks up, and even though he dismisses it as the loopy thing a person says on ecstasy, it still makes all of his nerves hum.
Hinata takes a sip from their bottle of water, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand when she passes it back to Sasuke, who is carrying the cap. “I feel fluttery,” Hinata says, “like a butterfly.”
“How would you know how it feels to be a butterfly?” Sasuke asks, genuinely curious. It’s like Hinata can empathize with every living thing. Hinata puffs her cheeks and tilts her head back to look up at the sky.
“You get hung up on the strangest details,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back to press her chest up to the sky, arching her back. Sasuke frowns, because it’s that attention to strange details that makes him such a capable ninja. He feels a little defensive, and he turns to say this, but when he sees how relaxed her face is, all his bad feelings fall out of his body and onto the ground.
**
Like Naruto, Hinata lives in a house that has been converted into an apartment building. She lives in a bachelor on the top floor, which had clearly once been the attic. She turns on a lamp on the table where she keeps her keys, rather than the overhead light. The room has two big windows, which she pushed her bed up against. It’s a platform bed, the kind with wood slats. She has a coffee table between the bed and the kitchenette, and the bathroom is just off by the fridge. She has a large dresser and two bookshelves. She has several photos of her friends and family up—it makes something in Sasuke’s chest ache to see what a normal looking adolescence she had, if you didn’t know she was a ninja.
He looks back across the apartment, as she kicks off her shoes and heads to the cupboard over her sink. Her bed is neatly made, and for some reason, he expected it to be really messy. The windows are wide open, and Hinata leans over to turn on a fan. It’s still very hot, probably because hot air rises, and they are at the top of the building.
Sasuke stands by the door, wanting to stay but not knowing how to ask, when Hinata turns around and smiles at him. “You can stay for a bit.”
“Only a bit,” he says, smirking. Hinata smiles at him, before turning back to the sink and filling a glass with water. “Do I get my own glass?”
“Would you like your own?” Hinata asks, before taking a large sip of water. Sasuke shrugs noncommittally.
“I could take it or leave it,” he hums, walking over to the bed, before sitting down. She pads over to him, and he eyes her hips, which she doesn’t notice. She holds the water out to him, and their fingers brush when he takes it from her. He looks up at her while he sips, watching her walk around the apartment. Putting away her keys, straightening out some papers, putting on some lip balm.
He doesn’t notice that he has drunk all the water until a drop from the bottom of the glass lands on the bridge of his nose. Sasuke tries to recall drinking all the water, but he can’t. Sighing, he stands up and walks over to the sink. Hinata watches him in her mirror, not turning around. She doesn’t want him to see her; they’ve been sharing drinks all night, but she feels like him seeing her desire would be embarrassing. She cringes when she recalls telling him that she wants to drink his spit. Hinata grinds her teeth, turning around at the exact moment Sasuke is turned to look at her.
“What do you value in a person?” Sasuke asks. He has placed the empty glass by the sink instead of refilling it. She wonders if that means that he doesn’t want to share a drink anymore.
“Value?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he says, “what is the mandatory trait in your ideal kind of person?” Sasuke predicts it’ll be something he isn’t. He gets more than he deserves but never what he wants. It has always been that way for him.
“Ideal person?” Hinata blinks, “I don’t really have an ideal person.” Sasuke gawks at her, like he’s a little kid.
“What?”
“Why do you look like that?” she smiles, “is it a surprise that I like actual people more than an ideal that doesn’t exist?”
Sasuke doesn’t know what to do with himself. He knows he should try and look less surprised, but he doesn’t know how to do that. The idea that someone could live without holding all people they meet to an arbitrary, ideal standard is something he had never considered before. His mouth is dry, and his fingers twitch. Hinata is watching him over her shoulder. She isn’t smiling anymore, but her lips are still turned up.
“Sasuke?”
“Yeah,” he asks.
“You walked me home.”
“And?” he asks quietly.
“I just think you should be less surprised that I like you, that’s all.” Hinata looks away. Sasuke tries not to read too much into what ‘like’ actually means.
“You like me?” he asks, walking back to her bed, instead of the door. Hinata nods, watching him lie down.
“I have half of a pill of ecstasy,” Hinata says, digging into her pocket, “Shino gave it to me for good luck.” She pauses and decides to stay the obvious. “We should split it.” Sasuke flexes his fingers, watching the tendons in the back of his hands.
“The comedown is going to suck,” he sighs, sitting up. He puts his hand out while she takes out the pill and splits it in half, smiling when she takes his half and holds it in front of his mouth. He blinks, and considers being difficult, but then he remembers that she wants to drink his saliva, and all of his reservations are gone. Murdered and buried and pushing daisies.
After he opens his mouth, she pushes her thumb and finger past his lips. Hinata leaves the pill on his tongue, before tipping her head back and swallowing her own piece. After he swallows, Sasuke lies back and waits for the ecstasy to hit, knowing it will feel good even though it won’t be jaw breaking. Hinata goes back to the sink and fills their shared glass a quarter of the way with water, before gulping it all down.
Minutes pass before the ecstasy hits behind her eyelids, making her shiver. She smiles and spins around, before setting the glass down and skipping to the bed. Sasuke isn’t squirming, but he has the goofy expression of someone who is on drugs that they really, really like.
“Get up,” Hinata says, pulling on his arm. Sasuke sits up, and feigning, before he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her down. She squeaks, kicking out, even when his arms fall back. He grunts when she pushes herself up, looking down at him. Their mutual attraction sits between them, and in this exact moment, she knows that he likes her the way that she likes him, maybe even more.
Hinata sits up, tucking her hair behind her ears. Sasuke lies down, his arms stretched out, helpless looking even though he is anything but. She moves back, standing up, not sure what to do. The ecstasy makes everything painfully clear, but it is also a little disorienting. Sasuke sits up slowly, standing up and walking over to her. He presses his thumbs into the tops of her cheekbones, and all she does is look up at him, licking her lower lip.
He doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t want him to. He kisses her decisively, in the sense that he does it on purpose because he wants to; the drugs, if anything, have simply lowered his inhibitions. It’s hard to say who puts their hands up the other’s shirt first, but everything moves quickly. They’re clothes are sweaty, so it’s like they are peeling layers off of the other. Neither speaks. Everything is self-evident, so there is nothing to say. Lust speaks for itself.
Hinata is much better at one-night stands than she’d like to be, in the sense that she’d rather avoid them but at times, they cannot be helped. When Sasuke finally picks her up and lays her down, she finds herself hoping that this, whatever this is, will become a regular thing. He slows down and looks into her eyes, running a scarred knuckle up her side, and Hinata feels her lungs constrict. Her entire body tingles and she presses her tummy up into his, just to feel a little closer to him. He smiles softly, tenderly, even.
The drugs have fully kicked in, and it’s Sasuke who plants a nasty kiss on Hinata’s mouth, while she hitches a leg over his hip. “Touch yourself,” he mouths, moving a hand down between her legs. The ecstasy has softened her up, and he easily slips two fingers inside of her. He presses his face into her neck, closing his eyes when she makes her little noises. He feels her hand between them, and when she rocks onto his hand, it makes the backs of his knees sweat.
“I want you to watch me,” she says quietly. Sasuke lifts his head.
“Huh?”
“I want you to watch me come,” she says in a breathy voice. He usually has a very flat expression, but right now, he’s looking at her with an intensity she has never before experienced. He says nothing, but he positions himself over her, so he is all that she sees. You’re real handsome. Her entire pelvic floor feels like it’s melting, like it is going to ooze out of her, and as she bucks up into his hand, she looks into his eyes to show him his effect on her. Her orgasm wouldn’t be as good as it ends up being if he weren’t looking at her face.
Sasuke keeps moving his hand even after Hinata comes, just because he knows she will let him, and if he can do it, why wouldn’t he? She keeps moving with him, even after her orgasm, looking up at him and saying nothing, because there are no words.
“I want more,” she finally murmurs, putting the hand that had been between her legs up to his cheek. Sasuke nods, because he knows where they are going. He takes his fingers out of her and puts them in her mouth, but she takes hold of his wrist, and licks the inside of it instead. This makes him tense further, and it’s around this moment that he clues into how good this is going to feel.
“Condom?” he asks. Hinata shakes her head.
“I don’t like ‘em,” she says, her voice a little childish. Sasuke agrees with her, but he also can’t remember the last time he had sex without one.
“You don’t like condoms,” he deadpans, “well, what do you do instead?”
“Pray,” she replies, angling herself so she can press herself against his erection. Sasuke rolls his eyes.
“That’s not an answer,” he says. Not a satisfying one.
“I’m on the pill,” she says, “you care more than most guys.” Most would have shrugged and cut to the metaphorical chase. She sits up on her elbows so that she can breathe in his face.
“I come from a cursed line,” he replies, deciding to end this conversation before it can even begin. Hinata doesn’t say anything, which he appreciates, but it guts him when he sinks into her and he sees the look in her eyes. Her hands are on his face, and she’s looking at him like he’s precious, someone she wants to keep safe. The harder he goes the closer she holds him, cracking herself apart.
Sex on ecstasy is different, in the sense that both Sasuke and Hinata feel radically open, almost torn apart, vulnerable to each other without any pain whatsoever. Perhaps it would feel this way without the drugs, but they both doubt it. Her hands are on his lower back, urging him deeper, pressing her fingertips into his skin. Her tongue is thick in her mouth, as she looks up at his chin, and it hurts so good that she can’t really think about anything except how he feels. Hinata wants to leave a mark on him like he is leaving a mark inside of her. She presses her fingertips into him, extra hard, taking the little bit of concentration she still has to pool chakra into the pads of her fingers.
“I want to bruise your back,” she pants, “please.” Sasuke doesn’t ask questions. He moves faster and nods his consent. His back already aches, and he grunts when he feels the dull pain of his capillaries popping. It feels better than getting a hickey and infinitely more rewarding.
Done with his lower back, Hinata puts her hands on either side of neck, freeing him up to move the way he wants to. She arches her back to meet him and gives him a nasty, wet kiss, the kind that’s a lot of fun to get but off-putting to watch. They are well past the point of trying to look cute, and when he slows down to draw their orgasms out, Hinata makes a face that would make him laugh if he weren’t making it too.
A little-known fact: Hinata is ten times nastier than Sasuke could ever dream to be. “Look in my eyes when you come inside of me,” she says, her fingertips pressing into the back of his neck. She won’t bruise him there, not yet, but maybe one day. He says nothing, changing the angle and making her shriek. She recovers quickly when she realizes that he is looking right into the back of her eyes, like he can see her pupils, even though they are invisible.
Come inside of me. No one has ever said that to him, not even Karin, because all the women he has been with know exactly what he is. It has never struck him that he could be desired in any other way. It could be the drugs, but there is an equally strong chance that she likes him just this much. It’s this realization that sends him over the edge. He hits hard, exactly four times, and his orgasm feels a little violent when he buries himself inside of her.
He doesn’t collapse on top of her, but he is looming right over her, panting. A drop of sweat drips from his chin and lands in her mouth. She swallows it without even thinking, and he gulps.
“I should’ve pulled out,” he says stupidly. Hinata blinks up at him, her hands on his face.
“I never would have forgiven you,” she says, with complete and utter sincerity. Sasuke blinks, before sitting up and pulling out, not trusting himself to immediately comment.
He sits on the edge of her bed, rubbing his face. “Perv,” he says, reaching for his shirt. Hinata sits up, cross-legged, her ponytail messed up. He does his best to look at her face, blinking patiently.
“Where are you going?” she asks. Sasuke makes a face, because the answer should be obvious.
“Home.” The comedown is going to suck, and he doesn’t think that Hinata wants him around for that. “
“Why?” she asks, sitting up straight. She asks that question with complete sincerity, like she wasn’t expecting him to want to go.
“Isn’t this a one-night stand?” One of the consequences of his defection and subsequent single-minded quests for revenge and redemption is that he has shitty interpersonal skills. He has to consciously think through some social interactions and ask for clarification when necessary. It makes him feel stupid, but he’d actually be that way if he refused to recognize when he needs help.
“I don’t like one-night stands,” Hinata says, declaring this like it isn’t something she probably should have told him before she let him climb down her throat.
“They aren’t that much fun,” he sighs, dropping his shirt back on the ground. “So, you want me to stay?”
“Yeah,” she says softly, “I’m going to want you to put your arm on my forehead when I get a migraine tomorrow.” Hinata actually hates being alone when coming down; she doesn’t like talking, but she finds it comforting for another person to lie beside her.
Sasuke shrugs, because he can’t think of anywhere better to be. Hinata smiles when he nods at her, standing up on her bed and hopping off.
“I have an extra toothbrush,” she says, walking towards the bathroom. Sasuke blinks; never before has someone so seamlessly integrated him into their lives, except maybe his mother.
“I get a toothbrush?” he asks while she is in the bathroom. She pokes her head out, nodding.
“You need one,” she says, like she plans on him being here again.
His tummy knots up, and this time, it definitely isn’t because of the drugs. Briefly, he considers the fact that there could be some sort of string attached, some sort of catch. “All you want is for me to lie down next to you and put my arm on your face tomorrow?” Hinata nods, and her request is easy enough. He gets up and stretches, the tight feeling in his stomach relaxing when Hinata comes up, holding out a toothbrush with toothpaste on it.