A/N: This is actually my first time writing an, ahem, lemony piece. -blushblush- It turned out decent, I guess. Just let me know how terrible it was so I can improve. Any feedback you have would be appreciated.
P.S. Bashing equals a very sad authoress.
Disclaimer: Naruto is not mine-- capiche?
Giftfic for Melodramatic Writer
Hinata is breathing heavily, her prominent chest is heaving, and she tastes his mingled flavour on her tongue almost shyly: the smell of sweat, muskiness, and something distinctly masculine that is purely him. Her inky hair pools around her kimono-less body in deep hues of indigo and blue, glimmering radiantly beneath the appeasing beams of moonlight falling on rumpled bed sheets. Sasuke is grunting in a smooth velvety purr, making noises in the back of his throat that ties her stomach up in knots. The sound curls around her ears and makes the girl want to shamelessly throw herself at him.
Imagine it: sweet, innocent Hyuuga Hinata caught up in the throes of passion, beneath the dark Uchiha avenger no less.
". . . S-Sasuke." It is whimpered in a hushed, almost pleading, tone of voice. He knows as much as she does that she is helpless to his touch, and begins to tremble slightly beneath him as he presses a lingering kiss against the ivory expanse of her neck. She does not even have enough time to fully realize her embarrassment at such brash actions as she tosses her head back with a breathy cry. Because he is trailing fervent kisses from her collarbone and then down to her swelling breasts and dusky nipples almost blindly.
And then Sasuke suddenly pulls back, and he is gazing down at her flushed face, peering into her round moon-like orbs. He is studying her slightly unkempt locks and taking in her dishevelled appearance with a glint of masculine pride shining in his eyes. Then Hinata remembers who he is, like the realization just tore through her mind like pebbles breaking a pond's metallic surface, causing a rippling effect. The fact that she is engrossed in the Uchiha avenger, in every inch of his rippling muscles, in his pale, ashen skin, causes her to redden and part her lips to ask him, to beg of him something.
Sasuke leans in, reassures her with his black eyes that are almost swirling and depthless. The smug smirk usually present on his aloof features is gone, replaced by something far kinder, genuine, and almost tender. It does not look fake; honest, rather. Not as guarded or hesitant as she'd thought it would be. It's almost as if . . .
"A-ah!" Hinata cries out softly.
The smirk is back now. When Sasuke errantly brushes his fingers between her thighs, parting them, and touching her in a way that is both frightening and terribly arousing -- frightening because Hinata tries to stifle a moan, fails, and then shudders, unable to hide how much this is affecting her. It catches her off guard, but she is losing the ability to think too much about anything. As he delicately fingers her and she lusts for more, biting down on her bottom lip and tossing her head back, he watches her. Hinata whines helplessly when Sasuke abruptly stops in his ministrations, then flushes further in embarrassment; his inky gaze shimmers like fiery coals beneath dark lashes that makes a warmth shoot up in her lower belly.
It leaves her speechless, nearly breathless.
And then she is flush against him again, her heat rubbing his, the hardened arousal pressing eagerly against her skin. There are no words exchanged between them as Sasuke licks her bottom lip and teases it, nipping softly at the skin, teasing the flesh with his teeth, and aligns her body with his own. Her inexperience is not to be mistaken for stupidity; even in all her naiveté, she knows what is coming. Hinata braces herself for the inevitable yet cannot help the soft gasp that bubbles up from deep within her throat when he claims her body in one smooth thrust.
It is painful, at first. Not an overwhelming pain -- more like discomfort, really, and Sasuke stops completely, mindful of what she is feeling just by gauging her sudden tenseness. The tautness in the muscles of his back draws her attention briefly. He is trying to control himself and shaking slightly with the effort, but after a while, once her body has adjusted to the foreign invasion she gives an experimental roll of her porcelain hips that makes him catch his breath, and the tension fades abruptly. The strained muscles rise, moving beneath her wan skin, are rounded soft as a spark of liquid heat ignites deep within her own body. Then Sasuke is withdrawing from her almost completely, causing her to whimper plaintively at the loss of heat, of fulfilment . . . then, after holding himself perfectly still for a heartbeat or two, slides home once more -- wrenching a keening little sob from her as she arches instinctively to meet him yet again.
"Ooh," she gasps, and the Uchiha grunts, bucking against her hips. She moans and turns her head to the side embarrassedly, unable to watch him watch her as her hips gyrate, rolling to one side; Hinata matches his movements with a sense of utmost urgency. She wraps her legs high up around his waist, causing him to groan as he tears his lips from hers and buries his face in the soft place where Hinata's shoulder meets her neck, licking and sucking her; bruising her, marking her. Then they are moving frantically, their bodies sliding against each other as they commit themselves to a timeless rhythm, making love as they are striving toward sweet, blissful release. They cannot stay apart for too long, irresistible in their fusion, like mercury droplets.
Her voice starts out soft at first, a barely murmured plea, a needy whimper. Then it is rising in intonation, growing surely like the first crocus of spring pushing up from beneath a blanket of cold, unblemished snow and for the second time that day, she is moaning out strangled tones of his name. She feels her body tense up around his, digging her nails into his flesh. Stars burst before her eyes, and her mouth dries. The world stills, and every nerve in her body sings with sensation.
Swirling obsidians come into contact with opalescent eyes for one moment. A soft murmur of her name falls from Sasuke's lips as he shudders and pushes in with one last thrust, emptying himself inside her. Burgeoning serenity pulsates somewhere deep inside the core of her, and her lips curl into a sweet, blissful smile.
The otherworldly feeling fades into nothingness, and suddenly she feels the chill of the room against her exhausted body. Two bodies detach from one another, falling back breathless onto the mattress they share, perspiration glistening on their naked skin like dew on freshly watered roses. Sasuke begins to come down at last and catches his breath, drawing her body close, his eyes fluttering.
The sound of the two lover's steady heartbeats rings loud and clear.
In all that time, not a single word is spoken, as neither feels it necessary to break the meaningful silence that stretches on between them.
As they lay there enshrouded in the veil of darkness, Sasuke trails a single finger down the hills of her spine. Hinata breathes contentedly against his chest, eyelids beginning to droop with tiredness as she drifts off to sleep. His hand smooths her hair down against her pale shoulder, and with a gentle brush of his lips against her own it is finished.
Actions speak louder than words.
The silence lives on.