A/N: Hey you guys. I know it's been a long time. Forgive me. Please take this as an offering of peace, and a promise for more in the future. I am working on the dreaded thesis, and hope to finish it by the end of the month. By the end of March, I will defend it (long, drawn out presentation in front of old crusty academic types), and then I'll only have classes to worry about. Then, I can start writing again in earnest.

Warnings:

Li--Lime

Psy--Psychological

Legal Stuffiness: I do not own Naruto, or any of the characters therein. Kishimoto Masashi, sole proprietor.

The Dogs of War

"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war."
--William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Chapter 1: Break Me

Lounging as he was, he wondered. How often would he have the opportunity to do so in the coming days? The pillows of the enormous futon he slept in were rumpled, the blankets bunched to one side. She was in the bathroom, dousing herself in the shower again. Did she really feel the need to wash him off? He remembered the way she looked just a little while ago. When he made love to her, she was more beautiful than she was in any other situation, with the possible exception of when she killed.

On both occasions, her long, flowing hair would be everywhere, face a mask of serenity. Her mind was never so calm. He knew, better than anyone, the turmoil that was a constant in her head. The door to the bathroom opened, and steam rolled out. She wore only a towel, deep blood red against skin that was pale as porcelain. Her hair was wet, falling in a tangled mass to her shoulders. Pale eyes regarded him, cold now.

"I have to go."

She always said that, as if he didn't know. This was all they had, really. In the night before they left to find those they had to kill, she came to him. At first, he had thought that she loved him. Now, it seemed more like it was a habit. Like biting your nails or twirling your hair around your finger…one of those bad habits that you can't ever get rid of. Her eyes froze him as he lay there, naked in more ways than one, and she could see straight through him to his soul. She always had.

For a moment, he wished that it could be more. He wished that there could be more than stolen nights when she was beautiful only for him. Not for the first time, his fingers played over the fabric of the sheets that she had rested on. Closing his eyes and letting his other senses take over, he could smell her, that newly clean scent moving around the room to collect her clothing. He could feel the movement of the air, the vibrations her footsteps sent out over the tatami mats. She never stayed the night.

When his black eyes opened again, she was fully dressed and watching him. Out of his spite for her, and his love, he said, "Give my regards to Neji."

She never flinched when he did this. Over the years, she had become just as calm as her cousin, the man she'd married. Instead, she simply nodded, then said, "I thought I told you not to talk about him..." It was their unspoken rule. He was not to mention her husband, and she never said anything about how she felt. About how she used him. When had she become so cruel? He could remember the stuttering, adorable girl she had been, willing to help anyone, the pinnacle of everything he considered to be pure and good.

He could hear the dog whining to come in, and he sighed. She was about to leave. The brutal reality of the situation hit him again. He was suddenly very tired of this. "Oyasumi nasai," she murmured, turning to leave. Her hand touched the door, and she paused. He had not said his good night to her. When her eyes turned back to him, he knew she could see through him. She could see how badly he wanted her to stay. Stay until the morning, and leave with him for the latest in a never-ending series of suicide missions. He knew that she could see the hurt, the feelings of betrayal that would never really fade.

Her face was still impassive, those cold white eyes boring into his, freezing him as surely as if the temperature in the room really had dropped. He hated her. He loved her more than life. And he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Sayonara, Hinata." His back hit the futon, the pillow under his head soft and comforting. Closing his eyes again, he said, "See you in the morning. For the mission." He didn't need to open his eyes to see the disbelief on her face. And he certainly did not need to see her to know that here posture was stiffening, her Hyuuga blood taking over. Somehow, Hinata had become just as proud as the rest of them, and she wouldn't take this insult laying down. No, she would not. But he had been used enough for one lifetime. He didn't bother keeping the anger from his voice. "You shouldn't keep him waiting, Hinata. He'll want to lay with you until morning."

Her voice, cold just a moment ago, turned into something he had not heard in years. "Kiba…" She sounded sad. It made him want to hold her. But no. He could not. If he held her, it would never end. It had to end. It needed to end. Neither of them got anything but bodily pleasure from this, anyway. She needed escape, and he needed her. All of her. But though that's what Kiba needed, he never got it. Not all of her. She would never be able to give him her entire self. That was something that only Neji had. And the pale man never let him forget it.

Fists clenching in the sheets, he said tersely, "Let Akamaru in when you leave."

"Hai," she whispered breathily, as if she were crying. He didn't open his eyes to watch her leave.

Heavy footfalls and the smell of canine sweat filled the room now, overpowering the faint scent of her perfume. A soft, rumbling whine sounded right next to his ear. "Hey, boy." The enormous dog licked his face. The tattoos that he'd had since he was seven, always sensitive, felt the little bumps of the dog's taste buds as they scraped over his skin. "Ready to sleep?" Akamaru stopped licking him, and flopped down precisely where Hinata had been not long ago. "Me too. Let's sleep. I need to erase this night."

The door slid quietly open, and Neji pretended to sleep. He kept his breathing even, his body lax. Hinata had come home late again. This time, he knew exactly where she had been. No lies now. He knew now that all of those times when she said she was being briefed for missions, she was really with him. There was never a smell of sex on her when she came home from these late night rendezvous. She apparently showered before she returned to him. Tonight was no exception as Hinata entered their bedroom. He could feel the anger rising in his stomach, a hot venom threatening to take him over.

When he cracked on eyelid, he saw her. She stood near her dressing table, removing her clothes. Watching as his wife carefully folded the items and hung them on the back of her chair, he felt the hurt in his chest. It clawed at him. He had always know that the Inuzuka had feelings for Hinata, and that there may have been—at some point—similar sentiment on her part. But that had been all he knew.

The last article of clothing she had been wearing now folded, she reached for her sleeping yukata. He was upon her in the blink of an eye. Taking her wrists firmly in his hands, Neji forced her against the wall. He would make her forget ever being with anyone but him. Her eyes were startled, and when he kissed her forcefully, a small sound came from her that he couldn't interpret. She was never exactly pliant, but when she began trying to struggle against him, he only growled into her mouth and bore down with the weight of his body.

Finally out of breath, he backed away. Releasing her right wrist, his hand found the back of her head, tangling in her hair and forcing her to look into his eyes. "You belong to me, Hinata." Her breathing sped up, and she looked away. "Look at me," he growled, "Look at me, Hinata." When her eyes met his, he saw a light of defiance there. "You are my wife," he said quietly. "My wife…not his. No one else's."

"I know."

"Don't lie to me, woman." He pulled on her hair, almost lifting her feet from the floor.

Her voice was dull. "I am not lying, Neji."

"Then why do you go to him?" He was trying so hard not to scream, to make her regret what she had done by force.

"Because he can't hide from me." Neji stopped breathing. Was she saying that it was his fault? That he had pushed her to do this? The thought of another man touching her made him burn with rage. It made him feel powerless. Like he had no control over his life and what went on around him. She was staring into his eyes now, searching for something. What did she hope to find?

Neji's grip on her hair loosened, lowering her to the floor again. "Do you love him?"

Hinata's eyes stayed on him for a moment, searching. Her face did not even flinch as she said, "No. No, I don't."

"Then why? What did I do, Hinata?" As he tried to understand, his hands found her shoulders. Her skin was like silk. Through his anger, he felt the familiar spark of desire forming. He wanted her. All of her. Neji could feel himself breaking apart, ready to fall to the floor in a million pieces. "Please…" He breathed, his hands beginning to shake.

Neji's face fell into the crook of her neck, arms winding around her body. Her voice whispered in his ear, "Break for me, Neji." But could he? He didn't think he could. He was one of the greatest members of a very proud family. Could he do what she wanted him to? Then, the question he really wanted to ask passed his lips before he really thought about what the consequences may be.

"Will you love me?" He felt her stiffen. "Can you love?"

"I don't know." Something inside him broke just then. If she couldn't love him…if she was incapable of doing so, what would he do? It all made him feel like he was less of a man for it. Her hands were on his chest, now, working their way under the white cotton of the yukata he wore. "Neji," she whispered, her voice sounding much more than intimate, "You're crying." Her mouth was at his neck, gentle kisses being placed on the skin there. The touch of her hands made him long for her, so much that he swayed on his feet.

He could feel her hands pulling at his yukata now, "What are you doing, Hinata?"

She paused in the delicate work her tongue was doing on his neck. "Breaking you." He didn't know what to say. So he didn't. He stood there as his wife stripped him of his clothing, and all of his defenses. When she had done with his clothes, she seemed almost to examine him. Her hands drifted over his skin, tracing the faint pink lines of old scars, and he shivered. Neji had never felt so exposed. They had been married for three years, now, and he had made love to her many times. It was not a question of nudity. It was her eyes. It was the way she seemed to see through every wall and barrier he put up, to the very center of him, where all his fear lived.

There was nothing he could do: he could not move. Her gaze paralyzed him, and the situation gagged him. This was the most painful torture he had ever endured. Being skewered tens of times could not come close. Neji's eyes closed as her fingers brushed over a large scar on his chest. It was a reminder of why he had all of those carefully placed barriers around him. But it was all meaningless right now. Hinata's mouth descended onto that scar, and he could feel her tongue tracing the outer edge of it. It was an odd sensation: the skin around the scar was almost hypersensitive, yet the nerves beneath the scar itself were almost dead. It felt strange, and he almost shied away.

Through her examination of him, he became almost painfully aware of what she was doing to his body. It was the feeling of her, he thought. And when she spoke next, his heart nearly exploded. "Neji…make love to me."

"Hinata?"

"Please?" she asked, her breath hot on his skin. His need for her suddenly became too great, and his hand moved to her hair, gripping a handful of blue-black silk, pulling back until her throat was exposed. Neji bent to kiss her throat; he decided to make certain to leave a visual reminder of his connection with her. His teeth sunk into her delicate white skin, and Hinata gasped his name, nails scraping the planks of the wall. The pressure of his jaw did not lessen for some time, but when it did, he sucked gently at the spot.

Once he pulled away from her, he saw it. Just where her shoulder met her neck was a fresh bruise, ringed by deep red indentions. His first instinct was to apologize. On the whole, he was gentle with her, never doing anything to make his wife uncomfortable or feel pain. But this was different. He had to make her understand that she was his, and his alone. The mark on her neck was proof of that. When her leg wrapped around his, pressing her body close, he could feel her heart beating rapidly, her breathing came in labored gasps. In three years, he had never seen her this way. Somehow, she seemed to want him, to need him. Had it taken something like this to make her want him as he did her?

All of his questions died. Neji could no longer fight. He simply gave in. Everything became a blur of movement, sound and sensation. When he finally realized what he was doing, Hinata's legs were wrapped tightly around him while his palms were pressed into the wall, and he moved feverishly, trying to keep his voice down. Hinata was exercising no such restraint. Her normally calm, soft voice was producing moans that were so loud that he was almost tempted to cover her mouth. Instead, he did the exact opposite. Damn the servants, and damn any other family members within a six-kilometer radius. "Scream for me, Hinata…" was all he could manage to say. To encourage the desired result, he pressed her harder against the wall, driving himself and her harder and faster toward the dark oblivion that awaited them.

Hinata's scream pierced the darkness of the room, dying in feral groans and whimpers until she could no longer voice her continued pleasure. Finally, Neji broke, trembling as his orgasm rocked him, sending them sliding to the floor. He felt her fingers trailing through his hair almost limply, and he heard her sigh. Neji could understand. He had never felt so sated, so absolutely content. When he could move again, he laid her gently on their futon. The smile she had on her lips was enough to make his heart full to overflowing. It had been a very long time since she had smiled like that.

His eyes strayed to the mark at her neck. Reaching out, he ran a finger over it. "Mine."

"Yes." She said sleepily, already succumbing to the waves of fatigue that threatened to take him, as well. First, he had something to do.

A/N: I hope you like it. This is the first thing I've written in some time.