The room was quiet and dark, but she could feel his presence in it. It was in the small things he had done to prepare for her. How he had left only a solitary lamp on, filling the corners with a dusky darkness, just enough light so she could find her way to the bedroom, and how his arrival before her had filled the space with his cloying scent. A dark, secret thing that was uniquely his and which she had never found a match. Hinata shuddered and removed her coat, hanging it on the rack leaving her in only a long shimmering strapless dress. She delved deeper into the room.

She was drawn inside on invisible strings of yearning. The same pull that had taken her from her husband's side on pretence of seeing a movie, it now pulled her past the bedroom door, closed it carefully behind her, and took her into the darkness beyond.

Only dim shapes existed there, manifested from the glow of a thin curtain over the window. She saw a desk, a clock, the bed, and him.

His scent filled the room, the jagged edges of his hair standing out as he rose to meet her. He was undressed, his body taut with subtle muscles defined sharply in the bare light. His dark eyes smoldered from beneath his brow as he took a moment to simply drink her in.

They said nothing. He clasped her and clothing whispered as it fell from her, her defences picked apart by his practiced hands. They were nothing but shadows as he kissed along her neck and continued to undress her. She gasped as his teeth brushed her sensitive skin. She was acutely aware of everything happening then. The shape of the bed, the sound of his heavy breathing, the way the city lights made the drawn curtains seem blue.

Both their hair was black, hers long and fanning in the darkness; his short, mussed and spiked about him.

They broke apart. "Hinata," he gasped, holding her.

"Sasuke," she mewled helplessly. His arms tightened possessively and pulled her closer.

Did she consider it betrayal to her husband, permitting this other man to run his hands across her now naked form? To bear her down to the bed, attacking her with hands and mouth as if to devour her? For her to respond to these attacks with cries and writhing upon the sheets, submitting to his every touch? She did. She hated herself for it, but could not stop. If she hadn't the strength when she drove to this address, could she now when lying pliant beneath his hands? Could she have resistance to him now, when this was merely the latest of their trysts? She wished she could, but addiction curbs the morality of man and woman, supersedes and makes its victims slaves.

She had but one consolation. When he attempted to capture her lips, as he always did, she turned her head so he would kiss her flushed cheek. As he entered her was passion, to kiss would be to admit it as love.

His hands grasped her legs and hooked them onto his hips. Her hands found his back and pulled him close as he pressed inside of her, drawing in and out, sending them both rocking upon the bed. She cried when his hands found her full breasts and rolled the sensitive quivering flesh. She felt the corded muscles above her as he lunged inside her with sharp motions as though driving a knife into her. He knew her every curve, explored every inch, he was a master of her body by now, and he seemed to never tire of exploring it anew.

"Hinata, Hinata," he gasped.

"Sasuke, Sasuke," she replied.

He arched his back and groaned with completion. She threw her head back and sighed as if in relief. And they fell together, silent with heaving chests as they fought for breath. He would be ready again soon, neither was yet satisfied, and neither spoke as they waited. She wondered, at these times, if he was filled with the same regrets as she? Did he think of what they did with either shame or regret? She would dearly like to know, but was far too afraid to speak, as if to do so would admit some intimacy she was not ready to confess. He had tried to engage her, once or twice when they had first began these meetings, but she had always rebuked the normally silent Uchiha, and he had not tried since.

As the beads of sweat dried against her porcelain skin, she felt him revitalize with strength. His muscles, tone and firm against her skin hardened and grew taut as flipped her onto her stomach. She rose to her hands and knees and he took her once again.

The clock on the bedside glared 10:00pm when they were finally sated. Still in darkness he waited as the shower ran, she inside and scrubbing herself clean of his scent and marks of their sex. But it always lingered, and she finally gave up and exited, wrapped only in a towel.

He was still naked and sitting on the bed, hands clasped between his legs as she dressed. Her cheeks flushed with familiar self-consciousness, feeling his eyes upon her. She turned to leave.

"Thursday, then?"

Hand upon the door, she paused. She dared not look back and see the expression on his face. "Y…Yes."

"Hotel Fortuna." She heard the sheets rustle as he stood. "You have my number?"

She remained standing, paralyzed by his voice. "I…Yes."

He chuckled wryly to himself. "Of course you do."

She left without another word, bundled in her coat as if to hide her shame as she slipped into her car and fled the lonely hotel for home.

Home. It was hers, though she felt unworthy of it. Naruto had never done anything to drive her into the arms of another man. He was not cruel, negligent, or cold. He was laughter, happiness and loved her with that universal love he held for all things. Nor did she hate him; else it would not hurt her so deeply to do this to him. What made it possibly worse was that she knew she had nothing really to fear. Naruto trusted her implicitly, and Sasuke would never betray her. She wondered how she knew this of the dark haired Uchiha, for he had such a great hold upon her, yet somehow, she knew she could trust him, no matter what. And that thought always made the gnawing guilt worsen.

As she opened the door to their flat Naruto rose from the couch where he had been waiting. His smile filled the room as surely as all the lights, as bright as his frock of yellow hair and the absurd orange bath robe he insisted on wearing.

"Hinata!" he laughed, catching her curvaceous body in his embrace. "How was the movie?"

Thoughts fled her at his touch. She wrapped her arms about his taller form and leaned her head against his bare chest, feeling his warmth and listening to the steady thrum of his heart. She sighed, and told herself she did not deserve him.

"F-fine," she whispered at length.

His large hand patted her back. "Great! So I was thinking we could go out for dinner tomorrow night. You know I love your ramen, but we haven't done anything special in a while now. Just the two of us, you know? It's nice to go out and do something fancy now and then. Like a date! We used to go out all the time when we were dating, right? Hinata? Hinata, are you crying?"

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, wiping her eyes hastily. "I'm sorry I…I'm sorry. I want to go. It sounds great. I…I'll stop I…" But she did not, and merely sobbed harder until her very shoulders shook.

Naruto smiled softly with bemusement and compassion – the whisker-like scars on his cheeks lifting at the motion – and hugged her closer to his chest. "Hey. Hey, Hinata. It's okay. It's okay. Sh. It's okay."

But she did not stop until she ran out of tears to shed.

()O()

Well, it has been a while. A bit different from my usual fare. This is simply an idea which has been percolating in my mind for some time. I'm not sure if I will continue it or not. The story simply appealed to me, and I decided to put it to paper. Hopefully some of you will get a kick out of it. I have an idea for the next chapter, but much of it is very much in the air.

The standard request from me to you. Read, review, tell me what you liked, what you did not, and I'll see what I can do.