FicWad

Disclaimer: Belongs to Kishimoto not me! I'm sure many people are pleased by that fact.

Warnings: non-con, kink, ooc, au, PWP, masturbation, language, pretty boys doing dirty things, some stupidly purple language. Any others you think I should add? Let me know ?

This is non-con folks! If any aspect of it squicks you please DO NOT read.
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She is running, bare feet hitting the wooden floors as soundlessly as she can manage. The hallways of the compound are dark and the few lamps that have remained lit do little to lessen the blackness around them. Hinata can feel him behind her, somewhere in the shadows. His pale eyes, so very like her own, are able seek her out regardless of how swiftly she runs or how subtly she hides. She imagines that if her heartbeat wasn't drowning out all but the steady thrum of panic she could perhaps hear him, his slow measured steps following her sedately. There is no need for him to rush; the Byakugan shows him all he needs to know. She should, at least, be equal to him in that, should be able to give as good as she gets, but she can't. Her Byakugan's gone, and Hinata, in her desperate flight, mourns the loss of it.


She is tiring and she knows the man behind her hasn't lessened his pace. She almost laughs around the sobs catching in her throat. Her first real chance to escape and her body is failing her. She feels so helpless, so useless, so unlike the strong woman she thought she'd grow up to be. She's disgusted at herself for fleeing, some damsel in distress running from the big bad wolf. Even the darkened hallways of the estate lend a gothic façade to her predicament. Except this isn't a fairytale and there is no one to save her from the wolf's sharp canines.


There is only the very slimmest of possibilities to escape, one chance to take flight and fly from the home that has become a prison. Hinata starts wending her way towards one of the side doors close to the compounds' outer walls. If she can get outside and find someone she would be safe, she still has friends out in Konoha. He would be unwilling to continue his pursuit of her there. She can smell the green scent of spring; almost taste the cool night air. This is the closest she has managed to get to freedom in a year now. The door is only a few yards ahead; she is almost beyond his reach.


The wood of the door is smooth underneath her hands as Hinata wrenches it open. Her flight is checked by something tall and solid and very much alive. Unable to halt her momentum she slams into his chest. The freedom that had been within her grasp vanishes in an instant. She had failed to realize that his presence behind her had vanished, an inexcusable error on her part. He surrounds her completely, overwhelming her senses, and she chokes on the scream scrambling madly at the back of her throat.


"Hinata love, were you trying to run from me?" His voice is whisper soft against her ear; the deep growl of it sends a shudder up her spine.


"What a silly, silly girl you are, haven't you learned anything?"


At this his left hand begins to run lightly up her side, breast to hip then back again, fingers barely grazing her skin through the voluminous material of her robe. His eyes seem fever bright in the moonlight.


"You know what the punishment is love, for trying to run from me."


She can hear the excitement in his voice, subtle though it is, and the panic in her mind screams louder than before.


"Oh no, oh no, no, please, no, no more Neji, please no..." her frantic protest slides into mumbled, incoherent noises. He brings a hand up to her face, running fingers through the tears coursing down her cheeks. He lifts them to his lips; she knows he likes to taste the salt of her.


"Tears and pleas won't do you any good, love, you know that." He touches his tongue to the sensitive skin below her ear, unapologetic, the growling whisper still at her ear.


"You are mine to do with as I please and well," he grins at this, "you know what pleases me."


She can picture the way that smile stretches the skin around his mouth, contorting the smooth beauty of his face. Neji doesn't smile, not in the everyday, run of the mill sort of way, so this possessive, predatory grin is terrifying.


"M-m-my father...my father will...."


"He will what love? Come and save you from me? You been in my care for over a year and he has not come to your rescue yet. I am his golden one, the Hyuuga genius, and you are nothing to him now. He does not care how I treat you."


She knows he speaks the truth, knows that her father has all but forsaken her. Hanabi has been named heir in Hinata's place, but it is Neji who really rules the clan. Hanabi's worship of his power and brilliance has left her in his thrall, and, as a result, she does whatever he asks of her. Under their rule the clan has grown in strength and political prowess, a force to be reckoned with. The Hyuuga are aiming for total dominance in Konoha and Hinata doesn't doubt their ability to achieve it. She has been left behind, Byakugan sealed, shinobi no longer.


"Come on love, up we go."


Lost in her thoughts she doesn't realize his intentions until she finds herself cradled against his chest. She dislikes the closeness of him and she feels her heart stutter for a second before settling into a frantic patter. His embrace is a cage she cannot free herself from and she has learnt that the fight is never worth it. The punishment for truly attempting to hurt him haunts her dreams. He enjoys her terror, the trembling, prey like quality of it, and he will take any opportunity available provoke that reaction.


He carries her effortlessly, retracing the path she took from his room. His footsteps fall silently and her fear grows with every step. She is crying noiselessly, tears streaking her skin, she feels as though she's been crying for years. As they walk he is whispering to her, in a tone that only she has ever been privy to, whispers to her all that he has planned. His voice is dark, seductive, and she hates herself as her body begins to betray her; he has broken her too well.


He distracts her with words and touches and, before she knows it, he is sliding the door of his room shut behind them. His is the second largest bedroom in the house, luxurious for all its simplicity. Neji sets her down in front of the mirror, hands ghosting over her body as he steadies her. The mirror is the one opulent object in the room with its' frame of hammered silver. It stands nearly as tall as he is. His eyes meet hers in its' reflection and Hinata is mesmerized by the look on his face. It is a strange combination of love and hate, passion and possession, lust and loathing.


The curse seal that darkens her right temple is his doing, retaliation for the one that adorns his forehead. He brushes the shorter tendrils of hair away from the mark before running a finger across it. He likes the look of it there, his mark upon her. It symbolizes so much more than just the loss of her Byakugan.


Standing behind her Neji slides the heavy robe off her shoulders, his hands brushing goose bumps onto her skin. The mouth at her neck is hot and damp and it fires in her an echoing heat and dampness. She knows the punishment has begun. He could see it if he chose to, read the ebb and flow of her chakra, the coalescing of it at her center. He rarely bothers anymore; they both know that she's failed.


The hands return to her sides, resuming their subtle path from hip to breast. She can feel the rough spots that mark his palms, he is still an active shinobi and his hands reflect his trade. He thumbs the underside of her breast, teases a nipple, and she arches into his hands. She hates her faithless, traitorous body. He is still watching her in the mirror and she closes her eyes to escape the penetrating burn of his.


"Open your eyes love, I want you to watch."


She whimpers at his words but opens her eyes obediently. She notices, detachedly, how dark his hands appear against her skin and how wanton she looks being fondled, her nudity contrasting sharply with his uniform. Her pale skin has been marked by his hands and by his mouth, signs of possession and dominance. A satisfied sound rumbles from his throat.


"You look beautiful love, my faithful whore."


She hates that he is being kind tonight, that he is playing with her mind just as he is playing with her body. This type of kindness is not to be trusted. When he is kind she can almost believe he cares for her and that is crueler that anything he could do to her physically. His hands are tracing patterns across the smooth skin of her stomach, deftly avoiding her most sensitive spots. Hinata can feel his erection against her lower back and he presses more firmly against her when their eyes meet again in the mirror. The wolf's grin has returned to his face.


"Come love, it's no fun if only one of us is naked."


Obediently she begins to undress him, struggling momentarily with the sash at his waist before she manages to untangle the knot. She removes his heavy outer shirt next discarding it beside the sash. The mesh shirt he wears against his skin follows quickly behind. Carefully she unwinds the bandages wrapped around his right arm and hand, taking the time to re-wind them as she goes. She stops when all that remains are his loose fitting pants. She is done far sooner than she would like to be. He pulls her forward into his embrace, the hard planes of his chest brushing against the tips of her breasts. She shivers at the contact.


Running his hands through her hair she is effectively trapped against him. He tilts her head back, holding her in place by the fingers tangled in the skeins. She doesn't like that, hates it even, when he forces her to look at him. He leans in to kiss her and she hates that even more; he only kisses her when he is feeling particularly sadistic. Her teeth close over the fullness of his bottom lip without consideration for the consequences. Neji jerks his head back and she sees that the smile is gone now, replaced by a look of disdain. The tip of his tongue flicks out to taste the blood staining his lip.


"What have I taught you, slut, about proper behavior? One year gone already and you still presume to defy me." He pulls her hair roughly, bringing tears to her eyes. "I let you run because I enjoy the chase and I let you struggle because I enjoy your fear but you do not do anything to cause me pain. Tell me, what is the punishment for that defiance?"


She looks down and away as best as she can with her hair still caught in his fists. She is afraid to look at him, afraid the hate in her eyes will garner her a worse punishment than the one she already faces. One of his hands grips her chin tightly, forcing her face up towards his.


"S-s-shame," she is surprised that she can even talk around the stutter clogging her mouth.


"When will the humiliation stop?"


"W-w-when y-you are s-s-satis," she pauses to breathe, tries to control the betrayal of her mouth, "s-satisfied."


He releases his bruising hold on her jaw and presses her down to her knees before him. He has positioned them sideways to the mirror, so that he can see her in profile. It is undoubtedly an erotic sight; he enjoys seeing her in such positions. Face to face with his clothed erection she wonders distractedly if he has other lovers besides her. Impatiently he tugs on the strands of her hair still tangled in his hand. Breath catching at the sting in her scalp she slips her fingers under the waistband of his pants, sliding them down to pool at his feet.


One of his hands is at her jaw again, pressing at the side of her mouth, opening it. She licks her lips, wetting them before she begins to tease his cock, lips and mouth running over sensitive skin but never fully engulfing him. She rubs her tongue along the underside of him briefly before nibbling gently along the head. Several minutes pass before she finally takes him fully into her mouth, as slowly as she can, making sure he can feel every inch sliding in. He makes a noise, deep in his chest, a quiet, pleased sort of groan. She feels a twitch deep in her belly at that sound. Pavlov's dog, she is well trained.


She continues her slow, taunting pace, taking him deep for a few strokes before pulling away to leave sucking kisses along the length of him. He is hot and hard in her mouth and large enough to choke her should he chose to. Soon the fingers twisted in her hair don't allow her to pull completely off his erection and she has to compensate by varying her speed, fast and hard and slow and soft.


He stops her before he comes, pulling her roughly to her feet. She licks the saliva from her lips as he unwinds her hair from his fingers. She knows what's ahead, knows that he will take her in whatever way appeals to him. He will pull her orgasm from her, forcing her to enjoy the degradation he heaps upon her. He will bury her under the shame of it. In her mind it is a far worse punishment than rape. His calloused fingers dig into her hips, turning her to face the mirror once again.


"You really are a beautiful whore aren't you love. If only you were a little more obedient." The wolf's grin is back, as is the sardonic, sadistic growl. "We'll have to work on that won't we love."


His hands are stroking slowly over her body, sending tiny shivers shuddering across her flesh. His erection is pressing into her back, damp from her saliva and the pre-come drooling from its tip. Torturous hands slide up and cup her breasts as if to measure the weight of them. His thumbs are rubbing over her nipples sending tiny electric shocks coursing through her belly. He pinches them suddenly, thumb and forefinger clamping down cruelly for a moment, dragging a pained gasp from her throat. He grinds his erection harder into her back.


"Touch yourself for me love."


She wants to shake her head, tell him no, but she doesn't. She hates it when he makes her pleasure herself for him but she has no say in the matter. Her eyes slip closed again as her smooth fingers begin to sift through the hair shielding her center. She is damp already and she cannot decide whether or not to be glad that she doesn't have to suffer the embarrassment of sucking her fingers to ease their passage.


"Open your eyes Hinata," the falsely friendly lilt has vanished from his voice, "I don't want to have to remind you again."


Reluctantly she forces her eyes open. He is watching her face; undistracted by the way she is touching herself. Their gazes meet and, once he is satisfied that she will obey him, his eyes lower to focus on the hand between her legs. She presses a finger in, wetting it before pulling it out to drag across her clit. She starts to rub slow figure eights over that sensitive bit of flesh.


He has taught her all of this, how to pleasure and how to please. She has learnt it so well that even unwilling her body can do what needs to be done. She is unable to escape the reality of him, his touch, his taste, his scent have been burned into her brain. All the words he's ever spoken seem to echo in her mind.


She is beginning to pant and he pulls her back to sit on his lap on the edge of the bed. Using his knees he presses her legs farther apart, fully exposing her to the mirror. In its reflection she sees the results of her unwanted desire. Her eyes, hooded and heavy, do not fully conceal the hate or the lust that burn in their depths. Nipples peek out between his fingers and she is swollen and wet beneath her own. Her hand is trembling as she quickens her pace, shame filling her. Tears slip from her eyes as she comes and she knows he's heard her whisper his name.


Swiftly he lifts her and positions her on her hands and knees on the bed. She is still facing the mirror, can see the silvery streaks her tears are leaving on her skin. She watches as he aligns himself behind her, his own long hair throwing his face into shadow. She feels distanced from the woman in the mirror, sympathizes with the pain on her face as the man behind her pushes roughly into her. She is sensitive still from her earlier orgasm. His fingers are leaving bruises on her hips as he sets a grueling rhythm.


"You thrive on this don't you love. Desire it even," he is whispering but she can still hear him over the slick sounds their bodies make, "from the beginning it has always been my name falling from your lips. My beautiful whore."


He is getting close now, there is a twitchy quality to his hips and he is hotter, harder, inside her. The rhythm that had been so precise has degenerated into erratic thrusts. His sweat falls onto her back mingling with her own as they stare at one another in the mirror. She cannot look away. He is smiling as one hand drops from her hip and slides down to touch her. She watches as he flicks his finger across her clit once, twice, and then she's coming, arms collapsing beneath her. He holds out for a few more hard deep thrusts before he comes as well, flooding her with his seed. She does not watch him come in the mirror. Sated he leans down and bites her hard where her shoulder and neck meet.


She curls into herself as he rises from the bed, her hand against the freshly broken skin on her neck. The woman in the mirror looks well loved but Hinata knows that she is really only well used. In her mind the mirror replays the images of them together and the shame that had been buried by her orgasm comes roaring back. Over and over again she watches as she touches herself, as she comes, as he takes her, a never ending loop. Distantly she hears the shower running, she will have to wait for him to finish before she can scrub his touch from her skin. Drained, her body tumbles into oblivion, the only escape available any more.

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He has been gone for weeks on a mission. At least that's what she assumes as no one has told her anything else. After her near escape he took extra precautions to ensure her continued confinement and she sees only the maid entrusted with her care. She is not so foolish as to believe that one woman is all that stands between her and freedom. Regardless she is too tired to attempt to flee again.


Even though he is physically gone, his shadow has begun to haunt her dreams, a demon lover stalking her sleep. This evenings dreams were no different, she had fallen asleep only find herself once again before the mirror. She wakes as she comes, his smile in her mind and her fingers buried deep inside her. She exhales in harsh, panting gasps as her pleasure mixes with shame and she wonders if he has finally succeeded in breaking her completely.


A slight noise alerts her to his presence, undoubtedly made on purpose; ANBU are masters of silence and deception. She can feel him watching her from the shadows, white eyes reflecting the moonlight filtering through the high window. He doesn't need that tiny bit of light to see the damning evidence between her thighs.


"Ah love did you miss me?"


Her body begins to tremble as his mouth twists into a wolfish smile.

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A/N: Ah well....this didn't quite go the way I wanted it to but I really hope it is not too terrible. As usual I would really appreciate comments and criticisms but don't feel obligated. Please keep in mind that this is only my second big fic and my first with dialogue so....don't hurt me too badly.