NB: You can read this story on my blog with color-coordinated dialogues and a bigger and better looking font at: http://takimatsuproductionz.blogspot.com/2012/10/naruto-shippuden-hinatas-sensual.html
And if you're interested in interactive commenting on this fan fiction, then you can read it on DeviantART: http://takimastsu.deviantart.com/art/Hinata-s-Sensual-Adeventure-Full-Part-1-330886991
Another violent chapter was over—one filled with many sacrifices and grief. Indeed. The senseless destruction had cease for a while. And although Naruto had not attained the revenge he sought, found something better instead. After all, noting good ever came from extracting vengeance, only the birth of more carnage.
He was told of events that took place decades ago, events that Jiraiya hadn't the chance to share. He met and fought his senior student, Nagato, whom had masked his identity behind the alias, Pain, and was presumed the mastermind behind Akatsuki.
During their fierce duel, a most difficult question was posed, one that weighed more than Naruto figured he could shoulder. It was the demand for an answer, a resolve, the same that was entrusted to him by his sensei.
Jiraiya also searched valiantly for the right answer throughout his life, but failed to discover it even upon his dying breath. However, the welfare of Naruto's village, his people—no, the entire world was dependent upon the merit of his answer... the answer of a mere child, a sixteen-year-old.
Time bears regard for no one. The moment of truth eventually came, at the epilogue of their epic battle, but Naruto still hadn’t found a resolve. He did, however, discover the key to attain it, which was the will to believe and never give up; to push on despite the pain and change he may encounter.
“One day, I'll end this curse! If there is a thing such as peace, then I shall grasp it! There's something even more important than a way to achieve it, and that's the power to believe in it!” With these profound and motivational words, Jiraiya was inspired to write his first book, which he hoped would induce a revolution that would forever change the world. These were the exact words once spoken but forgotten by Nagato (Pain) as a child, and upon reminder, Naruto succeeded in changing the man's cold heart.
Nagato eventually came to realize that he had betrayed himself, betrayed his past ideals. He had cast aside and forgotten his believes and moral standards, those of which Naruto had desperately clung to despite the same adversities he faced.
In the end, Nagato decided to confide in Naruto. His sensei, Jiraiya, had entrusted the boy with his will of fire, and so he would do the same.
With one final act to justify his change of heart, one wrought of charity, which he hoped would help him to atone for his many sins—even if just a tad—Nagato sacrificed himself to revive all the lives he had claimed in Konoha.
However, Jiraiya was still gone. Peace was restored to the village and everyone was thankful and happy. But Naruto was still scarred. A piece of him was still missing—a large fragment that perhaps even with the help of time, could not be restored.
It was approximately 12:01 in the early morning, one minute after the day of that great cataclysm—the day when Pain reigned and his wrath and godlike powers were known by the people of the hidden leaf, but even more so, Naruto Uzumaki.
The night culminated with Naruto sitting upright in bed, just as it did when he learnt of Jiraiya's death. In this moment, he knew nothing but blissful memories of the past, as the present reality was too painful to dwell. But these joyful memories could only last for so long, and even within them, he still ached.
His heart felt like lead in his chest, with each beat pulling him deeper into a dark abyss that was the essence of pain and suffering. His body was weak and numb; he couldn’t help but get sucked in, and a part of him welcomed it.
Just why did granny Tsunade had to send Ero-Sennin on such a dangerous mission? It was reckless! He may have been one of the three legendary Sennin, but even they make mistakes—Orochimaru, for instance.
Naruto’s eyes narrowed as he fell prone to reminiscence, and a fiercer heat dawns his stomach.
The Night Following Jiraiya’s Death:
A grief-stricken Naruto sat up in bed, silent, his head hung as he mourned his sensei's demise.
Adjacent to his bed, in the middle of the room, was a table. And on that table was a well-prepared cup of noodles, a cold bottle of water and a soda that sat sulking as of neglect.
It felt as if a dark, cloud-like shroud made of torment was lingering over his head. It was invisible but potent, and the intensity of his constricting chest justified that fact.
If that old ass toad was really the Ero-Sennin's master, then why didn't he save him? Why did everything have to turn out this way? If Ero-Sennin were Hokage, he would never have sent granny Tsunade on that mission... never.
Hoping to cleanse his heart of this ever-growing grudge and to flee the ravenous beast that obviously fed upon the light of his soul—replacing it with that of darkness—Naruto left his room.
As soon as he made his way down the stairs of the apartment complex, he looked up at the neon sign of a store that depicted: “24-hour shop.”
Dazed, he would have stridden right past it—but for some reason, the sudden thought of ice cream nudged his awareness. It made him imagine a small measure of closure.
Now, he sat on a bench beneath a streetlight, his back arched, his forearms resting on his legs. It was quiet, except for the slightly distinct sound of moths tacking the bulb of the street light overhead, and the screech of crickets thoroughly hidden in the forestry.
Naruto heard nothing. And was completely oblivious to the beautiful spectacle of the village from where he sat. He only saw the memories he shared with his sensei up to this point, skipping through his mind, like a flipbook... distant, and in a somber shade of gray.
His icicle had started to melt. A single droplet of its sweet flavour fell to the ground, soon accompanied by many more of a different hue and flavour that was quickly savoured by the ground—bittersweet. It was his tears. They rippled down his face, like a broken dam in dire need of repair. He wept, yet his face was straight. He still could not accept the fact that Jiraiya was gone, that his sensei was no longer apart this world.
Naruto honestly thought he had escaped the clutches of the vile fiend that lingered in his room—devouring his composure and provoking him—but it would seem the despicable creature had trailed him here. How persistent. It would seem the demon had no intention of leaving until it had its fill.
All of a sudden, out of the pitch-black darkness, he heard a subtle voice:
“Naruto.” It was Iruka, and our hero did quick work to dry his tears upon realization. But it was not long before more tricked down his cheeks.
The man took a seat at the opposing end of the bench. “I heard about Jiraiya-sama,” he said with apparent condolence. His eyes then swayed emotionally, a gesture that won Naruto's attention.
“I wanted him to keep watching over me. I wanted to have him watch me become Hokage.” Naruto smiled, a wanly smile. “I only let Ero-Sennin see my bad sides. I...”
“Jiraiya-sama was always praising you,” Iruka interjected. “He always spoke proudly of you, saying that you were like his own grandchild.”
Naruto's eyes widened.
“He believed that you were the only one who was going to inherit his will. In his mind, he had no doubt about you becoming a great Hokage.” The man's eyes softened sympathetically. “Jiraiya-sama will keep watching you. Even now, from somewhere...”
Slowly, Iruka stood and gazed up at a luminous full moon. “He wouldn't praise you if he saw you being depressed. So, just continue being the person we've all come to know—the person he always praised.” He knelt before an enthralled Naruto and reached for the melting icicle. “You can't be depressed forever. Jiraiya-sama, one of the Legendary Sennin, acknowledged you.” He broke it into two halves, a stick on either piece. “His excellent student.”
Naruto was moved, and a smile soon stretched his lips. Then he reached for the stick of icicle. “Thank you... Iruka-sensei.”
It was the crack of dawn now. The morning's star tinted the neighboring clouds that cradled it—like a mother would while nursing her child—a thick sheet of gold. It slowly rose up from beyond the distant horizon, as though it had just awoken from a deep slumber, highlighting the vast, rich landscapes and rooftops with its warm, saffron glow.
With the deity's glorious rebirth, the darkness dwindled, as did the large quantity of humidity that rode upon the carefree wind. But while the sun may have vanquished the darkness and replaced it with its radiant light, Naruto couldn't say the same for the darkness manifested by his sorrow. It clung to him, like the many feathers on a messenger hawk.
It is said that time heals all wounds, but he was skeptical as to whether or not his agonizing would ever end.
The morning's dew still hung on the greenery, glistening, and it was not long before the birds commenced their soothing melody. Perhaps it was a notification for the nocturnal spices to withdraw into their homes, while for others—such as a beautiful young maiden of a certain clan we all know—a sign to wake up and play her role.
Today, she had plans—a harmless scheme born of solicitude to cheer up a certain someone. And although she had absolutely no clue as to where she would have attained the courage, was adamant about going through with it nonetheless.
8:03 a.m. It was nothing short of a miracle that Naruto was able to fall asleep—and it was not a restless 5 1/2 hours of twisting and turning, either. The moment his eyes closed, reality fell still and silent. Fortunately, he was also spared from having any tiresome dreams or awful nightmares.
He lay on his stomach, like a piece of log, quiet and motionless for these few fleeting hours. Perhaps that repulsive creature had devoured to its fill and finally departed—granting him that peace and tranquility he sought in order to meet sweet closure.
It was soon apparent, however, that such a conclusion was merely wishful thinking for as soon as Naruto grew more self-conscious, the demon was back—hungry and ready for more. Oh, joy! Torment and frustration lingered in his company anew, like the stink on a skunk. And at one point, he actually entertained the thought of Orochimaru's forbidden techniques—possibly, to amend what had gone terribly awry.
All of a sudden, to help shake off the thought, there was a low, tentative knock at the door, which characteristically spoke to the likeness that it was a female. And the fact that the intervals were so very far apart meant that this person was definitely not Sakura, but probably a female still nonetheless.
Roused from the shallow depth to which he was asleep, Naruto lazily sat up in bed. His eyes were weary and his face pale. He yawned and then scratched his stomach, before shuffling off the bed.
When the door screeched open, he scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes at the intensity of the vibrant morning’s light and saturated colours. His eyes widened, however, when he noted it was Hinata that was standing at his doorstep. And she blushed and averted her gaze, when his eyes roamed from her face to her torso and back again.
She was presented in an ivory, spaghetti-strap dress with black, silky frills at the end. The material clung to every voluptuous curve of her burnish, petite figure. She looked like an angel that had wandered to earth from heaven and lost her way. And somewhere, in the corner of his mind, Naruto knew she was his sole partner, his symmetrical half, his beautiful maiden—unseen, untouched, and her flavours still a mystery.
“H-Hinata... what're you doing here?” he demanded in his surprise, his voice childish but coated in a layer of charm that made the girl's heat rise.
The mild scent of him, from where she stood, and his familiar yet unique aura made her heart crash against her chest and her lips part in response. But she had lost the air in her lungs to speak. She wondered then if he had any idea how breathtaking his voice was, and the force of his eyes, however tired they may seem.
“Na…Na…Naruto-kun. Um”—she shook her head, blinking—”good morning,” she greeted with a slight curtsy, after she could breathe again. She had never seen him in his pajamas before. Well, not since he got older. And just the sight of that made her lose the balance of composure she took over an hour to accumulate this morning.
“Hinata,” he murmured her name, staring at the young damsel with that clueless expression he wore so well, making it even that harder for her to breathe.
At this rate, it was almost certain that she would eventually faint. The thought was embarrassing to say the least.
Hinata could clearly hear the erratic throbbing of her heart. She couldn't help but wonder if that was normal or life threatening. Nervousness continued to arrest her body. Soon, she was unconsciously meddling with her thumbs, while the other fingers clasp the picnic basket in her hands.
“I...I made some breakfast,” she struggled, “and hoped we could have it together.” She bowed her head and lifted the hamper in her hands. The fabulous material of her thigh-length dress cascaded over her buttocks in a fashion that could steal the wind from any man.
“Nothing's gonna happen if you keep moping around.” Naruto heard Shikamaru's voice resound in his mind, the moment he frowned with little interest in regards to the girl's request. “You're not in a position to act in such a way anymore. It's the time to become the one that entrusts rather than being entrusted to.”
The shinobi in distress tried to seem wholehearted as he cast Hinata a grateful smile, and then his eyes softened somewhere between enthusiasm and grief. “I would love that,” he agreed. “Thank you, Hinata. Please... come in,” he invited in a warm voice, fully opening the door and stepping aside.
“R-Really,” the girl seem astound as she straightened her bend. “D-Does that mean... Na…Naruto-kun and I... are on a—” her voice thinned and trailed off the moment she realized the notion upon her lips.
Hinata closed her eyes before her darling prince charming could indentify that treacherous telling gleam in them, and then she heaved a rueful smile and fanned her hand in a dismissing gesture.
“Uh-Un,” he closed the door behind her. “Ah, sorry about the mess,” he cupped the back of his head in embarrassment, when Hinata stilled against the scowl of untidiness. “I haven't really gotten around to cleaning... and—” his mood suddenly shifted to that of misery, as he recalled the training he had undergone at Mount Myouboku after learning of Jiraiya’s death.
“That...That's okay, Naruto-kun,” Hinata swayed her hand to win his attention before he could drown in an irreversible state of depression. “I don't mind at all... really.”
“Err, are you sure?” his gaze was sharp and inquiring. But he seemed more relieved and reassured when Hinata nodded her head without hesitation. “Okay, well... I'm going to have a shower. We can eat after I get out. Make yourself comfortable, okay... I won’t be long.”
Hinata's heart skipped a beat and her eyes widened. Fortunately, Naruto had already turned around before her countenance could catch his eye and arouse his curiosity.
No matter how much she suppressed, Hinata couldn’t resist picturing him standing in that bathroom, clad in nothing but soapsuds, with water trickling down his arms and chest and regions farther down south. Her cheeks brightened with colour, as she further thought about sacred areas below his waist. She barely knew about the state of hers much less to have the audacity to think about his.
Under any circumstances, was it normal for a young virgin girl to have these thoughts, whenever she looked at a boy she liked... a lot? She hadn’t a clue; her boy-liking history (none) gave her few reference points to work with.
When she realized he was standing in the door leading to the other room, watching her, Hinata stood sincerely, like an obedient schoolgirl awaiting further instructions from her esteemed lecture. “Umm, okay… In the meantime, I will prepare the table.”
He gazed unswervingly before he left. His eyes were gentle but intense, and it seemed to make her bones turn soft. A second longer and she would be seeping through the cracks in the floorboard right now, like spilled milk.
Na...Naruto-kun's room, a curious Hinata sighed heavily, studying the small space with evident admiration, taking in every bit of detail that she could. I have never been in here before, unlike Sakura and some of the others.
She took in a deep breath, filling her nose with the scent of him, and upon exhaling—concluded that she would do quick work to clean his room. Naruto saved the village. This deed could not repay the debt; it paled in comparison—but she wanted to prove that she was most grateful in any way that she could. However, was that really the reason why she was so willing to do his chores? Did she really decide to come here today purely because she wanted to offer her condolences and gratitude? If nothing else, it was a good excuse.
Hinata blew out a sigh of relief and then rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “Well, that ought to do it... and just in time, too.” She looked around the room with evident satisfaction and then smiled at her grand accomplishment.
The room seem to sparkle now as opposed to glowering earlier, as if it were thanking the princess for her effort and a job well done. The bed was perfectly spread, laundry neatly folded and stacked in the basket, furniture thoroughly polished and the rug beneath the table was dusted off. Finally, she had properly disposed off all the garbage lying around, opened up all the windows to let some fresh air in, and prepared the table with the food she had made at home.
Within moments, the door adjacent to the bed suddenly opened, that lazy squeal sending Hinata's heart crashing violently against her rib cage. She lost the air in her lungs at the devastating collision. Hopefully, her insurance that was composure could cover it.
Naruto sauntered casually into the bedroom. He was wrapped in nothing but an aqua bathrobe and a cream towel around his neck. The spectacle had a defenceless Hinata's entire face turning pink...rapidly!
She noted that he smelled more of soap now than his original intoxicating fragrance. Perhaps that was for the best, though, she could recognize her disappointment.
The sweet scent of soap upon his skin made her remember the image of him in the bath, garbed in nothing but suds. The thought made her eyes automatically begin to drift downward but by god, she had to stop herself by the time she got to his stomach. She knew danger. Her blood was electric in her veins, and her heart was galloping, like an untamed black stallion in her chest. Still, she gawked at him while sitting on her heels around the knee-length table, admiring his irresistible flair.
His hair was still damp and spiky from the shower—a beautiful, sleek plain the hue of rich honey that lay seductively over his forehead. Tendrils were everywhere, but her gaze soon drifted to his perfect lips and then to his eyes. They were the colour of the ocean—deep and filled with untold mysteries, just like the calm misty blue.
She hunted for the answer to a particular question in them, but the sea was too vast for her to discover what she sought. She studied the broad cut of his shoulders and the long, strong length of his arms. He was so handsome...
“Wooow,” Naruto exclaimed—disrupting Hinata’s examining gaze—practically drooling at the magnificent appearance and smell of the various kinds of gourmet dishes.
The combination of aromas filled the room, some seeming to take on a physical form so as to caress beneath his chin, coaxing him to sample, to dominate what he craved. And he craved everything.
He may be an epicure, but he knew those who were not enthusiasts couldn't possibly tell the difference between that and a gluttonous pig. In other words, he would have to mind his manners in Hinata's presence—though, restraint was never one of Naruto's strong points.
“Breakfast”, he recalled her saying. This was more like a feast for at least 20 or more people. It was unbelievable that so much food could fit in that small picnic basket. Was there an alternate dimension in that thing?! He supposed he really shouldn’t be surprised. There were almost no limitations to the possibilities of the ninja arts, after all.
Everything looked so delicious, from the donuts and sugar-dumplings, to the fried rice and lobsters. And, of course, Naruto neglected everything that had his face drawn all over it, literally. The sight of that always gave him the heebie-jeebies—heck, eating himself didn't exactly seem normal. It was downright creepy and uncomfortable.
“Everything... everything looks so amazing, Hinata,” a salivating Naruto complimented openly, his eyes never leaving the food. “Did you do all this yourself?”
“Uh-Un,” she verified, tapping the tip of her forefingers together. “I wanted to do something special for Naruto-kun.”
Touched, the warrior's eyes softened. She could see his appreciation. She could almost feel it.
“Hinata,” his lips curved beautifully. “Thank you... really. I needed this.”
She beamed at him and nodded her head, like a child who had just satisfied her taste buds on a double serving of her favorite ice cream Sunday. “You're welcome.”
All of a sudden, Naruto started to look around, agitated, and then blurted out a long, high-pitched: “Eeeeh? M-My room,” he stuttered as the towel fell to the ground from around his nape. And he pointed a trembling index finger in an open space that was perhaps the filthiest. “It's—”
“Clean,” a proud Hinata took the liberty of finishing the rickety sentence, somehow pleased by his flustered state. “I tidied the place up a bit… while Naruto-kun was taking a bath.”
Naruto rubs the back of his head, shamefaced, and yet a half-wide grin stretched his lips. “I-I don't know what to say.” I thought you said you didn't have a problem with it, he pondered, pouting inwardly.
“Y-you don't have to thank me, Naruto-kun,” Hinata said meekly, looking down on her hands that rest atop her thighs as she tried to gather and retain courage. “I-I wanted to do this.” Almost automatically, she pressed a curved index finger to her lips and glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I hope you like it.”
She swore she saw him blush then, but he colour vanished from his cheeks so fast that she wondered if she might have imagined it.
“Hinata,” Naruto pronounced her name in a way he had never done before, a manner that made her skin spring goose bumps. Was he extracting sweet vengeance? “It's amazing,” his voice was low, complimentary, and almost seductive, if she didn't know better. “You're amazing.”
His unexpected, velvet-like words and that captivating gleam that flashed in his eyes made her gasp, and she dropped her head before she could lose anymore of her valuable composure.
His gorgeous face—eyes, nose, cheeks, lips and all was such a distraction and a hazard to her poise that Hinata decided to try and not look at it anymore than courtesy absolutely demanded. His sweet words were obviously more of a threat than she bargained for. Watching him secretly was a more prudent approach, if she really valued her consciousness.
“Let's dig in!” Naruto said when he was certain she would not reply. Heck, even Sai could have easily pointed out that the girl was highly sensitive to his words. She was excessively shy, especially when the one she admired was in close proximity.
“Itadakimatsu,” Naruto said musically, when he had plopped himself down on a cushion, crossed-legged. He quickly reached for his chopsticks and detached the pair while making some blissful sound with a watery mouth.
Our hero made haste to sample everything from each dish, evidently chewing less than the appropriate number of times the doctor ordered. He indulged his taste buds on everything except, of course, the menus that had a very crude art of his head depicted on it.
But alas, it soon became apparent that he might succumb to temptation, despite how disturbing they appeared with an over familiar face. He couldn't help it—there was a shortage of pastries and Hinata just had a talent for making them. They were absolutely delectable! It was a recipe with an obsessive flavor, which guaranteed the young maiden absolute possession of his very soul!
Narrator: Okay, I admit, that was a bit too melodramatic. I apologize sorry :3
Everything was scrumptious, and god knows Naruto would have French kissed his ten fingers if Hinata wasn’t here, despite the fact that no form of food was smeared on them. He may as well do it, since he might have already showed the girl that gluttonous persona he wanted to conceal.
“Have as much as you'd like,” Hinata informed, having already ate to her fill. Now, she watched him; watched in love and affection as he enjoyed her personal home cooking—wait what?!
She blushed fiercely and averted her face subsequent to the realization of her open emotions.
“Thanks, I will. Everything tastes so amazing. You'll make a great wife one day, Hinata.”
Naruto didn't look up when he said those words, and maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't. But the open remark still made Hinata's face heat and she almost said his name in response, on a tone that was everything but erotic. She might have stifled the amorous moaning of his name, but a breath still escaped her lips, one that had enough wind to win our warrior's undivided attention.
“Hmm,” Naruto stopped and arched one brow in question. His soft, sky-like eyes were appraising even as noodles extend from his mouth to the bowel. “Seriously, I really love your cooking,” he mumbled with his mouth full, and then like a noisy vacuum cleaner—sucked the rest of the noodles into his mouth and started chewing.
The sheer sound and sight had Hinata's lips parting in a sultry fashion—but the noodles were not what interested her. That certainly was not what she craved, not in the least.
Her heart pulse as further thoughts invade her mind, but not just her heart... never just her heart when he was so close to her. This wasn't the first or second time that Hinata had felt this strange sensation—this strong and consistent convulsion below her waist. And it always seems to occur while she’s in Naruto's company for an extended period... alone.
For some reason, she wanted him to put his hands on her; she wanted to be touched… everywhere. She once thought that a simple hug may have sufficed, but it was becoming clear that it would not. Was it appropriate to think or feel this way?
She soon got a hold of herself and addressed his latest commentary with a remark that was hardly auditable. She wondered what her face looks like, and tried unsuccessfully to relax, but the electric current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in his body never slacked.
Occasionally, Hinata would permit herself a quick glance in his direction. But he was too caught up in eating to realize. It was a wonderful treat.
Abruptly, Naruto reached forward to retrieve a dish with jelly-stuffed rice balls, and the sudden proximity of his long fingers to her hand sent her heart into frenzied palpitations. Hinata struggled to keep her face composed, though, her cheeks brightened with colour.
The corners of his lips pulled up into a crooked smile, stopping her breath and her heart, before he bit down into a rice ball in hand. Delight spread over his face as the cloud-like filling melted in his mouth. And his facial expression almost seemed like an invitation to lean forward—despite the nerve-racking mortification—and pinch away the grains of rice that smeared the corner of his mouth, one-by-one.
Hinata battled valiantly to fight off the urge, for she knew any level of contact she had with him could possibly have her bursting into flames, flames that would be nearly impossible to extinguish.
The princess felt a lot of emotions: confusion, sadness, frustration and even a tinge of anger—because to this day, she was certain she completely knew herself and had achieved almost full control over her body through intense training and meditation.
Yet, at this very moment, she was struggling to steady the reins of her control, to subdue her rising desire. It was consuming her rationality.
“I'm sorry about Jiraiya-sama,” Hinata blurted out, showing no hesitation in wanting to offer her deepest condolences or rather to change the subject. Initially, she did not intend to speak of the man—yet, it was either she changed the energy in the atmosphere or do something very stupid and nigh unforgiveable.
Like she planned—a disturbing sacrifice—the spark in the atmosphere shifted; a knife pierced her lust, but her heart was run through, as well. She could only imagine what Naruto felt, and her chest tightened at the thought. Now it was a battle to hold back her tears.
There was an awkward, prolonged moment of silence. Hinata could feel the thick waves of depression rolling off him, and she could think of nothing to say.
“Hinata... it's fine,” he finally said after a while, failing miserably at sounding wholehearted and unscathed, assuming that was his intention.
She glanced up at him, but he was staring into his bowl of noodle soup, his eyebrows pulling together.
“It's no big deal. I'm alright now. Someone told me that Ero-Sennin believed I was the only one who was going to inherit his will of fire, that in his mind, he had no doubt about my becoming a great Hokage. I was also told that he wouldn't praise me if he saw me being so depressed.” As he spoke, the dejected edge left his voice and colour returned to his pale face. “I have a mission resting squarely upon my shoulders that was left by Ero-Sennin to fulfill, so I don't have any time to be moping around. I need to get stronger if I hope to bring to fruition, not only my sensei's dreams, but mine, as well. Also,” his eyes narrowed in determination, “I haven't given up on Sasuke.”
Hinata's mood seemed to change in that instant, particularly at the key words: “moping around.” It shifted to something around the lines of indignation—a level of indignation that obviously outweighed the fact that she was probably being a tad selfish and insensitive.
Of course, she was impressed. Of course, she was proud. But she felt neglected and upset for the most part. She wanted him to share his burdens, and the pleasures of his achievements. She wanted to be recognized. She wanted to know what he thought of her existence. She wanted to be his... through everything.
Hinata was suddenly headstrong—adamant to learn of Naruto's feelings toward her, whether or not they would bring her absolute disappointment and grief or immeasurable happiness and satisfaction.
It occurred to her then that perhaps that point in time, when she had confessed her love to him on the battlefield, should remain lost in the flow of time, if he did not feel the same way she did about him.
“N-Naruto-kun,” his name was hot upon her lips, and she averted her eyes, just her eyes, as a precaution to preserve the little courage she had gathered. “What—” she hesitated, dropping her eyes—”what do you think of me? D-Do you think I am pretty?” Her words were hardly above a whisper, as she tried to mask the note of petulance in her voice. They were so low that she had a hard time hearing them over the loud thrashing of her heart. She wondered if he could.
A sudden flash of surprise over his face answered her question.
Their eyes held, and the silence deepened—and changed. Flickers of the electricity she had felt moments past began to charge the atmosphere, as he gazed unrelentingly in her eyes.
It wasn't until her head started to swim did Hinata realize she wasn't breathing. When she drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, she averted her eyes again, a fierce flush staining those plump cheeks.
But was embarrassment really the emotion she should be feeling? Was it not despair and sorrow? Naruto’s hesitation gave root to speculation, and Hinata held fast to the notion that the fleeing gleam she spied in his eyes were supposedly of uncertainty, pity and disgust. In other words, her love was unrequited.
Naruto averted his gaze suddenly, his eyes guarded. And Hinata bit her lip and was glad he couldn't know just how much that hurt. It was better that way; he had enough anguish to deal with as it is. His ordeal over these few months has been harsh and unrelenting.
She hadn't realized the moisture in her eyes had spilled over. She quickly rubbed the back of her hand across her flushed cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there... betraying her.
Naruto frowned, heartbroken, when he saw tears in her eyes. His facial expression was of agony, as though the blade of a samurai’s sword stabbed through him.
“H-Hinata—” he called, but was almost immediately obstructed.
“Do you remember what I said before I fought Pain?”
The question made her heart clench despite her solemn countenance. And Naruto gasped in response, the inquiry evoking that memory.
Pain held his hand forward, intent visible in those calm yet sinister eyes. They were deep, cold, and sad—a void filled with malicious ambitions and chaotic philosophies. “It's time for you to come with me,” the demigod said, towering over the sage like a bad omen in his black cape. Naruto gasped, bounded there on the barren ground by the man's black iron rods.
The demon's pupils enlarged in preparations for his next heinous move, but just then, quick footsteps pierced the tension that had formed between the two. Time seemed to slow to the moment, when Hinata leaped into the air, capturing the titan’s inquisitive gaze.
She attacked the villain upon her descent, but missed, her assault creating a large crater beneath her.
How horrible, she said mentally, when the dust had cleared. She looked to her comrade in distress and then back to her adversary. Naruto-kun's movements are sealed away due to those rods. “I won't let you lay a finger on Naruto-kun!”
“Reinforcements,” Pain assumed, sporting that ever-composed countenance.
“Why did you come here,” Naruto demanded, obviously not enthused in the least. “Hurry up—run! You don't stand a chance against him!”
The beautiful maiden made some sound, something matching a breath of protest. “I know that I'm being selfish,” she admitted in a subtle tone.
“What are you talking about?” Naruto was frantic. “You don't need to be here! It's too dangerous!”
“I stand here on my will alone.” She remembers a scene from the past, when an adult of her clan was carrying her off, after Naruto had saved her from a gang of bullies. “This time, I will save you. I've always been a crybaby and always just gave up before trying. I kept thinking everything I did was wrong, but you showed me the right path to take, Naruto-kun! I've always been chasing you. I always wanted to catch up to you, to walk with you, to be with you. You changed me, Naruto-kun—your smile saved me. That's why I'm not afraid...to die protecting you...because...I love you, Naruto-kun.”
Slowly, his eyes glum, Naruto lowered his head, which, in Hinata's opinion—seemed like a gesture stating the fact that he could not bear the weight of the world and her feelings for him at the same time. The child of prophecy of which The Great Toad Sage spoke, could not have a family while the world was engulfed in such darkness.
But needless to say, Hinata was willing to wait.
“Hinata...” Naruto's eyes darkened with many emotions—but of those, she could not perceive. His eyes were filled with mystery, a bottomless sea of enigma that she could not decipher, even with the power of her eyes.
“It-It's nothing,” she gushed while shaking risen hands in dismissal. “You don't have to think about that. Forget what I said. Oh, that's right,” she looked to the corner of the room and got up to fetch whatever it is she had placed there.
Hinata stood with care, worried her balance might have been affected by the tinge of electricity that still ran throughout her body. She walked across the room, lightheaded and wobbly, and by this time—she was obstinate that her endeavor to change the subject had prevailed.
Though, hadn't she decided to refrain from reminding him of her confession on the battlefield? Well, so much for that resolve.
“I-I baked you a cake... as a means of officially thanking you for protecting me.” She smiled, as high-spirited as possible. “Pain might have realized I was still alive, if you hadn't started fighting with him again.”
Nervousness continued to play over Hinata’s body, like the wind through a rolling meadow of beautiful but delicate flowers. It almost crippled her—making it harder to breathe, harder to think straight and harder to maintain her sincere facial expression.
Her indignation and sadness were gone, like liquid being exposed to temperatures far below zero degrees, replacing it with massive glaciers of embarrassment.
While making her way across the room—back to the table—Hinata toppled in her clumsy state and Naruto stood, hoping to save her, only to have a flying cake plaster all over his unsuspecting crotch.
“Oh crap,” he exclaimed with that dumb look on his face.
Na...Naruto-kun, Hinata's eyes were wide with horror, her forehead red from its impact to the floor. “F-Forgive me,” she apologized almost instantaneously, and then made haste to fetch a napkin after scraping herself up off the floor.
Kneeling before him, the young maiden did her best to wipe the chunk of calorie away—but unfortunately, that's not all she was wiping away. She was wiping away his composure, his rationality and his will to resist falling prone to temptation and having his way with her as desire specifically commanded.
All the while thinking that a girl had never before touched him in this way, Naruto's body went taut, his fingers stiffened and his toes curled. There was not a word upon his lips. He couldn't find his tongue, and it was not long before he got a rather demanding erection.
Before Hinata could reach down to fetch another napkin, her eyes innocent and cute, his vessel begun tapping her forehead each time he throbbed. The princess was flabbergasted, and she froze, when she realized where her wiping centered. And for a second that seemed to stretch through to infinity, her heart and breathing stopped. It was as if she were caught in a momentary state of suspended animation, and it wasn’t long before a bright layer of pink rose from her collarbones to the crown of her head, like a tide that was embarrassment.
W-What is this? What's this hard, warm thing from Naruto-kun on my forehead?
Hinata gasped, her eyes widening, when she finally understood just what exactly she had done to him. She had broken something! She had unintentionally mutilated his body somehow and she would never be forgiven for it.
With an incoherent flurry of words, Hinata stood awkwardly, trips over her own feet again, and falls against him. They both tumbled to the floor, her on top, and she could distinctly feel what she had done to him on her thigh, throbbing like a heartbeat.
Naruto's once passive, almost morose aura was flaring now. And words couldn't possibly explain what had become of Hinata's, but the fact that she had broken into a sweat meant that it was nothing less than overwhelming.
Her sensitive chest was fast against the hardness of his, and she was already pulsing between her legs, almost violently—a level of sexual awareness that was completely new to her. She didn't know what to think of it, but her body knew well what it yearned. However, did she possess the mental power to dispose herself to its needs?
Naruto’s eyes were as wide as Hinata's, filled with shock, but hers soon half-lidded with something else as desire rooted even deeper into her core. Desire was not all she felt; however, there was a tight grip of guilt in the pit of her stomach. She had done something very awful to her darling prince and yet he did not whimper nor writhe in pain. There wasn’t even as much as a crease in his forehead.
Instead, behind the evident shock in his eyes, it would seem he was as lustful as she was. Now, the maiden was as confused as she was sexually aroused.
She propped herself up on her arms.
Time seemed to slow to this moment. Naruto could hear the dangerous pace of Hinata's heartbeat, and her breaths came quicker through parted lips—a sweet, cool breeze against his face. He could smell the fragrance of the shampoo in her hair, the soap upon her skin and the freshness of her clothes.
Tresses of hair branched off along either side of her face, her beautiful eyes obscured by the shadow cast by her bang. Naruto then noted her rosy cheeks, and at the same time, examined and relished in the feel of her soft, warm body against his.
Below the tempting curve of her lips, he allowed his eyes to journey from the hollow of her chin, along the slender length of her throat, to the threshold of your enticing cleavage. Her breasts were soft, smooth and creamy, he assumed, merely by a brief glace. And it proved most difficult to tear is eyes away. Every fiber of his being wanted to feel and taste them, and he knew it would only become harder to resist with time.
Every passing moment, however embarrassing, was a gift, a new experience and feeling for them both to savor. And they delighted in its taste, grace and glory, never wanting to move, loathing the idea of this moment's inevitable end.
Finally, Naruto’s gaze shifted and settled on Hinata's unpainted lips. They were lovely, and he couldn't help but note that they were thinner in comparison to Sakura's. They were thin but luscious, making him wonder about their unique taste. Oh, how he yearned to have them on his.
Unable to help himself, Naruto flashed a glace to her breasts again. Hinata's were by far larger, though, in comparison to Sakura's, that is. And he proceeded to think how they would feel and fit in his hands.
A passionate light lit in her eyes, Hinata slowly lowered her head—locks of her hair caressing her prince's cheeks—and licked the icing from the tip of his nose. It tickled, but the sensation made Naruto throb rigidly in response nonetheless. And not only a few times, either.
Motivated by her decision in this—automatically, intuitively, the young sage lifts his head. He watched as her eyes drift close, before he could lightly touch her chin with his lips. Her eyelids twitched, but her eyes remained close, as if there was something more, something special and in particular, that she was expecting him to do.
He knew just what she was silently requesting. The truth of it rippled through her to him, like a warm tide. And the idea lingered at the tip of his mind, coaxing him to proceed with much passion.
Without a moment's more thought, Naruto closed his eyes and gently brushed his lips against her trembling lower lip. It felt like a soft, warm cloud beneath his, and as brief as it was, “amazing” couldn't even been to describe the level of pleasure he derived in that fleeing instant.
As for Hinata, her entire body trembled in response and her nipples ripened against the force of his chest. If her mind told her that this was wrong, then why did her body say otherwise, and which one was she to heed?
Gradually, she reopened her eyes, when his head met the floor once more. And after muttering a word of apology, she neared her face to his, so that she could brush his lips, in an echo of his feat.
Their hearts thrash together...
N-Naruto-kun's lips are on mine, she gasped inwardly. My-my first kiss...
When the maiden's eyes reopened, after she raised her head, Naruto scrutinized her face carefully. It was strange that he had never looked at Hinata in a certain light before, until today. The girl was beautiful. She had a slightly round, childish face, plump cheeks, and her silky hair was like a moonless night sky. Her eyes were innocent, deep and gorgeous... but troubled. He could note the twinkle of sadness that dwell within those mesmerizing depths.
Displeased with this blemish that tainted—what he thought—was the epitome of beauty and grace, Naruto decided to relinquish this measure of unhappiness. And with that, his warm, velvet-like lips were pressing very softly against hers—a promise, a wish and a resolution.
What neither one of them was prepared for was her response.
Blood sizzled under her pale skin, gushed throughout her veins and burned in her lips. Her breath came in a wild, telling gasp, and her tiny fingers clasped the collars of his bathrobe, clutching him to her. Her lips parted and her throat went dry, as she breathed in his intoxicating scent.
“Hi-Hinata,” Naruto said calmly, when their lips were separated; when she was finally able to yank back on the reins of her control. “Is this alright?” He asked slowly, watching her.
“Uh-Un,” she nodded her head, like a toddler that had secretly done a bad deed. She took her time to steady her shaky breaths, even though she had began—almost automatically—rubbing her centre on the surface of his bent leg. “I-I love Naruto-kun; so long as it's Naruto-kun, it's okay.”
“Hinata…” he kept his face perfectly composed, though, a peculiar gleam lit in his eyes—a soft light that Hinata apparently deemed less a threat in her state of arousal.
Naruto could distinctly feel the smoothness of her hindquarters, moving up and down his naked thigh. Her slow and erotic movements, not to mention the heat between her legs, proved unbelievably arousing. It made his erection greater. And all the while, he could sense that she was getting wetter.
He knew exactly what it meant, what with being forced to read Jiraiya's novels all the while upon their travels. The man regarded it as training—the training of the mind, he always assured with that big, ridiculous laugh.
For once, Naruto was appreciative of that perverted side of his sensei. The man was probably looking down on him right now, with that goofy grin and thumbs up… from somewhere.
“Why did you apologize before?” Naruto's voice was low and repentant, but Hinata's keen eyes couldn't dissect his expression. She wondered what he could be sorry about, and her curiosity rooted deep, despite her sexual cravings.
But more importantly, it was better to bide her time in gathering herself to answer his question, his embarrassing question, his heart-racking inquiry... god give her strength.
“I—” she hesitated, averting her gaze, “I did something to hurt Naruto-kun.” Her words—no more than a whisper—coincided with a strong pulsation of his masculine package. Her cheeks were scarlet, when she glanced down in a telling gesture to where the bulge pokes her thigh, and then met his curious eyes anew.
It didn’t take long for Naruto to understand what she meant. And he looked down, as if the girl was transparent, as if he could see past her creamy cleavage, to his pulsing pride.
His gaze soon bored into hers once more. “Hinata, it's really not what you think.” he tried to stifle a smile of amusement, though his lips still twitched.
“What...what do you mean?”
“What you did... what you feel,” he looked down again,” is actually well…umm…my dick.”
“Y-Your... dick...” Hinata repeated casually, obviously confused and unaware of what she just reiterated.
Naruto smiled, finding Hinata's ignorance in this to be quite interesting and adorable. How delightful. He liked the fact that, in a sense, she was as naïve as he was. And her shyness made him more relaxed and well…creative.
“It means... it means that I'm aroused.” Her brows still slightly creased in uncertainty. “It means that I find you incredibly attractive...that I like you a whole lot and I want you to be mine. Hinata…I want to make love to you.”
Crash! Her composure crumbled, shattered, like a sheet of glass against hard, jagged rocks. She could only but hear the strident sound, as the pane of glass scattered into a thousand glittering fragments. And she was certain he wouldn’t have given her the time to recover the pieces.
Naruto smiled his breathtaking smile again, stretching those perfect lips, and Hinata’s eyes propped wide open, as she continued to process his confession. Like an old engine—far past its prime—her heart slowed to a stall before pulsating; roaring back to life with newly found vigor. Her pulse was erratic, and she could feel her blood heating to a dangerous boil. Her temperature rose, her body overheating...
Just before the dominant, beast-like heat surfaced far enough, however, to seize—like a cold-hearted pirate—her consciousness, Naruto started to squeeze her breasts with curious but gentle hands. Hinata responded, almost instantaneously, her eyes tightly closed, her forehead creased with lines of delight. And her lips pursed and then parted on a sweet breath.
Naruto had only dreamt of moments like this—another craving listed in his super-duper long list of Uzumaki's Boyish Desires.
He had always thought Sakura’s breasts would be his first. But then again, he wouldn’t want what happened to Jiraiya many years ago, courtesy of Tsunade, to happen to him. Beaten to a bloody pulp because of peeping or groping seemed to harsh of a punishment, if you ask me. Just the thought gave him the shivers.
Hinata didn’t seem to have a problem with being fondled by him; she squirmed in satisfaction on top of him. And if anything else, she wanted more.
Naruto felt as though he was in heaven, when he had successfully pushed the disturbing thought of being clobbered into oblivion aside. Hinata’s breasts were warm and plush over her dress. They filled his hands completely, and she made some low, provocative sound beneath her breath, as he further indulged himself in this childish fantasy.
His sensual caress soon made her begin to feel a consistent series of pulsations, deep within her core, more potent than before. His actions made it even harder to suppress the warm liquid that trickled down her highly sensitive walls. She could feel it and for some reason, it made her more self-conscious and embarrassed.
Quickly, Hinata sprang to her feet from the temptingly soft yet firm, warm, masculine surface that was his chest. She gazes at his attractive figure through apprehensive eyes, as though he was the embodiment of ecstasy and irresistibility, sent by Cupid. He was a creature no girl could possibly resist—a threat.
He was no threat to her, however. She wanted him to make love to her. After all, it was she who well…made him erect, even if it was just a mere coincidence. And she didn’t regret any of it.
Naruto's white teeth flashed brilliantly. They seemed to shine against the many rays of light beaming through the window, in his endeavor to subdue another smile wrought of amusement. He gradually sat upright, his eyes calm yet seductive. “Oh, that's right,” he said, stealing her breath for the one-hundredth time. “I never told you what I think.”
“W-What you thing,” she asked slowly, her arms hugging her breasts, seemingly protecting them from his hungry eyes.
“Mmhmm,” he nodded his head, his eyes smoldered. “You're very beautiful, Hinata. And I think your dress looks absolutely amazing on you.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise. And she lowered her head when she noted that he was studying her face, seemingly pleased and harmlessly amused.
“Na…Na…Naruto-kun...I’m not beautiful,” she disagreed. “And my dress is just, well...decent, not amazing.” Aye, that's what she said, yet she blushed with pleasure at his compliment.
Fluently, like the graceful flow of water, Naruto rose to his feet and hovered toward her. She flinched, but she did not move away. He reached out to touch his fingertips to her cheek, and shivers slithered up her spine. His expression was unfathomable, but soon, she realized a tinge of sadness lining his handsome face.
“Hinata...I admit sometimes I tend to sugar coat what I say—but I would never lie to you. Your dress suits you perfectly and you're unbelievably beautiful.” Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as his knuckles gently stroke her cheek. “You're wrong,” he whispered in her ear, after skimming his lip over her ear lobe. “You're totally indecent—no one should look so divine, so tempting, it's not fair.”
Hinata's eyes were wide—again, her chest tightening, but she couldn't look away. Her eyes were imprisoned by his. She could feel the heat of his body intermingling with hers, the convergence making her feel the truth of his words. Her legs got weak, her panting breaths, louder.
Temping... how? She thought to herself mentally.
He pressed his warm lips delicately to her forehead, and the room spun. Her body was highly aware of his presence and his need, and that made it impossible to think.
“Shall I explain how you’re tempting me?” he offered, his eyes still amused. It was clearly a rhetorical question, she surmised, spying his fairly pronounced collarbones through the loose-fitting garment.
His fingers traced slowly down the slender column that was her spine. Her hands were limp on his chest, and she felt lightheaded again. She knew she had fallen into dangerous borders, but she could not tell him to stop. However irrational it was, she wanted to tell him more.
Hinata had started hyperventilating by the time Naruto tilted her head slowly and touched his warm lips to hers for the second time, sucking them very lightly.
And then she collapsed.
“Hinata?” Naruto's voice was alarmed as he caught her and held her up. “Are you alright,” he asked. “Say something!”
She only heard an echoing, gradually diminishing murmur before her vision blurred and her eyes drifted close. Though, just before that final thread snapped, which held her mind and senses to reality, she not only found the mass that was her body braced fast against the wall, but both her tiny hands that were laced with that of his. For a very brief moment, she noted the difference in size, between his hands and her own.
His aura surged then, flowing into her body, like a powerful counter to a sedative drug. Her eyes popped open, and she drew in a breath, as though she had just resurfaced after being submerged under water for far too long.
Unexpected, overwhelming, revitalizing—a few words she could use to explain what she felt. It's as if he had breathed new life into her. His energy, almost divine and sensual, was like the hand of pleasure. It touched her body like a physical caress—coaxing her desire to an even fiercer boil, and she began panting softly in response.
Being pinned by a male, and one she was so deeply in love with, was definitely a first. And although she felt awkward, her arousal was more distinct.
Awareness centered at the point between her thighs where his leg squeezed, and his face buried in her neck. His breaths were hot on her skin, and her lips parted in response. She felt a primeval urge to coil her arms around him, but they were still braced against the wall.
“Na...Naruto-kun,” she struggled between heavy breathing. “B-Be gentle with me, okay?” her voice was just high enough for him to hear. I can feel Naruto’s leg bracing against my… this is so very embarrassing. But…it feels good.
She might have told him to be gentle, but Hinata found the way he handled her to be incredibly erotic… unusual, but erotic. She hoped he wouldn’t release her, not yet at least.
“Shh... Hinata,” he rests an index finger over her lips in a graceful gesture that made her breath catch. “I need you to trust me. Allow me to make you feel.” Let's see if all the time I spent proofreading Ero-Sennin's perverted manuscripts paid off. I still remember most of the chapters from Icha-Icha Tactics.
Hinata showed no signs of resistance, but arousal and impatience was plain upon the young maiden’s face. It was evident in the glitter of her eyes and the arch of her fine brows, the flush that kissed her cheeks and the curve of her beautiful lips, and the way she would glance at him before averting her torrid gaze.
Naruto found pleasure in the way she breathed through parted lips and he cupped her face, urging the girl to look up at the ninja that slightly towered over her. He was so very strong yet humble, sensitive but resilient, and very beautiful. She still could not unravel the mysteries she saw in the deepest depths of his eyes, but she could tell from their steady glow what would come next.
Clasping her hands together with one of his own now, slowly, Naruto skimmed the back of his fingers over her shoulder, down her armpit, and back up again. She quivered, but her eyes were still on his, trapped by the intensity of his telling gaze.
Hinata turned her face to the side, her heart pounding, after he combed locks of hair behind her ear. But he used a single finger to tilt her chin, aligning her face with his once more. He kissed her forehead tenderly before lightly pressing his warm lips against hers. The room didn't spin this time, but she shuttered with need and released a breath of desire, when he pulled away.
Every so often, Hinata could feel the tension building between her legs. Her clothes confided her, and it was becoming uncomfortable; she needed to be naked. Again, she felt the need to tell him more, but she couldn’t find her tongue to utter such a demand.
Allow me to make you feel, the words echoed in her mind, yet it made her throat parched. She wanted him completely to have his way. She was certain he was curious and needy as much as she was, and she wanted him to explore and proceed at his own pace. She wanted him to grant her pleasure of his own free will. She wanted to be possessed, loved, and marked by him.
Like a barren terrain, blessed with a light drizzle of rain for the very first time, was how it felt as Naruto skimmed his bottom lip across the fullness of hers. Hinata's lips were dry, and he made the journey again, but this time, with his tongue. The mistress sighed in her delight and the moment her lips parted, he subconsciously dipped his tongue inside of her mouth. It waged a frivolous war with hers yet stilled reigned champion.
Hinata whimpered in indignation when he withdrew his tongue, but then she started deliberating. She had absolutely no idea a kiss could be done like that, not that she had ever been kissed before now. She hadn't a clue what it was called, but she was certain she liked it. She liked how his tongue glided tenderly over her quivering lips. She especially pleasured the way he plunged inside of her mouth and probed her shy tongue with his. She wanted, needed to feel that again.
They were being led by their instincts, coated in desire and passion along this beautiful journey of love, and she had no intention of straying from this paved path.
His breath was hot on her neck again, and then her ear, before Naruto spied the pert peaks of her nipples protruding through her dress. Arrogantly, he wondered if he was the one responsible for stimulating them to such hard peaks. And after careful analysis, he released that she was not wearing a bra. The revelation made his eyes blink wide open, and a smile tugged at his lips.
“Hinata…,” he said softy, letting her hands down. She noted the tone of awkwardness in his voice, and was surprised to find a steady blush in his cheeks—it was normally so elusive. “Can I…can I take your dress off?”
The final set of words, after the long pause, just rolled off his tongue—hearty, seductive and frank. They resounded in Hinata's mind, making her melt faster than she would have liked. The young mistress was dumbfounded, and her entire face turned pink in response to her beloved's intimate request.
But why was her heart beating so fast? That’s right—a male has never seen her naked before, or even the female servants that usually bathed her as a child. Since Hinata was stroke by puberty, none other than her knew the changes her body had undergone. She was more self-conscious.
Looking down at her bosom, the reality of wearing no bra beneath her dress crossed her mind. It was embarrassing yet somewhere, in the corner of her mind, shrouded in darkness, was she perhaps expecting this to happen? To an extent, was she hoping to entice him with her body? She didn’t want to believe that, but the fact that her bra was absent did well to make her wonder.
Hinata’s entire body felt sensitive and unusual. She felt afraid to reveal to Naruto what she could not fathom herself. What if he found her womanly features bizarre, what if he did not approve? Personally, she thought the changes in her body came far too soon.
She could feel that chemical reaction deep inside, a place where she had always been afraid to tread. It was getting wetter. What exactly did it mean? It was getting dirty, she thought.
“Hinata,” Naruto’s voice was more composed. “I need you to completely confide in me. Don’t think so much,” he reassured. “I won't hurt you.”
“Na…Na…Naruto-kun,” she beamed at the certitude of his words. “I-I believe in you.”
“I think your entire body is beautiful. I will make you feel in ways that you have never felt before.”
“N-Naruto-kun,” she murmured with curled fingers at her lips, subserviency evident her in sheepish tone of voice. She dropped her gaze, tempted to look up at his face anew, as she struggled to construct a coherent sentence with her words. “I-I want you to me make me feel… only you.”
“Your wish… is my command,” he whispered sincerely, as he cupped her chin and gently moved his thumb along the soft, luscious length of her bottom lip.
First, having made some space between them, the young romancer did quick work to somewhat loosen the thin black laces at the front of her dress. And with a deliberation that the deed did not demand—eased the weight of both frilled straps further down the maiden's biceps.
Hinata's face was hot, her fists clenched, and she stood motionless, only seeming to sway as Naruto continued working on loosening her stubborn laces.
Her eyes were wide but willing all the while, and she studied him inconspicuously, her heart and nerves humming in unison when she spied a bulge below his waist. She swore she saw it move at one point.
Soon, and well before Hinata could gather any gauge of composure, the neck of her silky attire was easing over the curves of her bosom as Naruto pulled down. And upon attaining their freedom—her breasts bounced upward from the downward pull of her garb.
He watched in captivation as those magnificent figures gradually sank and then rose. They danced, they teased, coaxing him to hold and feel them, but he didn’t… not yet.
The instant her dress puddle around her feet, Hinata felt light-headed. And her limbs grew weak as she felt the intensity in which Naruto admired and studied her unclothed body, his eyes never seeming to leave the ripened fruits that were her nipples.
Reality suddenly grew dark, and her prince grew distant, his hand unable to reach her.
Surfacing from the depths of deep unconsciousness to a more subtle state, Hinata was soon roused awake at the feeling of a cool breeze whipping across her heated skin.
The countenance the young mistress wore upon her face looked more like arousal than that of disorientation—and when her eyes slightly opened and her lips parted, that claim seemed more distant from question.
Lying on her back, she looked like a desperate, submissive princess that had long await for her charming prince to warm her bed—sampling, savoring everything that she had to offer. Her hands folded into cute little fists over her head and her hair rest beneath her back like layer of blanket, long and sleek.
Sparkling tears of joy tipped the cor