The hidden bathhouse lay at the edge of Kumogakure's mountain springs—an ancient structure of smooth stone and bamboo screens, steam curling into the night air like ghostly fingers. Lanterns glowed softly along the path, guiding Hinata's hesitant steps. Each breath she drew was heavy with anticipation—and dread.
She paused before the entrance, pressing a palm against the warm wood. Inside, she could already hear the gentle rush of water and the soft hiss of steam. Summoning her courage, she slipped through the sliding door.
Raikage A stood waist‑deep in the central pool, his broad back to her. Moonlight filtered through a high window, illuminating the rippling water across his muscular shoulders. His ebony hair was damp and loose, droplets trailing down the powerful line of his neck.
Hinata's breath caught. He turned, water sluicing from his arms as he stepped toward her. His presence filled the chamber—earthquake‑solid, yet tempered by the soothing warmth of the bath.
"Lady Hyuga," he rumbled, voice husky. He offered his hand. "Come to me."
She sank into the water, the heat enveloping her like silk. Steam swirled around them, a private mist shielding their transgression. She wore only a simple wrap, but here, they shed even that.
He reached for the cloth at her shoulders, peeling it away with reverent slowness. Her pale skin glowed in the lamplight. A flush crept up her neck as his fingers brushed the shell of her ear, tracing down her collarbone.
"You're trembling," he observed, eyes dark with something between hunger and awe.
She sank lower, letting the water cover her to her chest. "It's the heat," she whispered, though her pulse thundered in her ears.
He stepped closer, closing the distance until only a finger's breadth separated them. Steam cloaked their silhouettes as his hand drifted across the curve of her shoulder, then along the swell of her breast—never pressing, always teasing.
Hinata's breath hitched. Her own hands found his chest, the warmth of his skin igniting a fire inside her. He leaned in, lips brushing her temple in a feather‑light kiss. The touch was electric, sending shivers through her spine.
"Do you trust me?" he murmured against her skin.
She lifted her chin. "Completely."
He captured her lips then, a kiss both fierce and gentle, as though he feared to harm her with his strength. Water splashed around them as he deepened the kiss, one arm sliding behind her back to draw her impossibly close.
Her fingers wove into his damp hair, guiding him as desire unfurled between them. The scent of jasmine from the bath salts mingled with the musk of his skin, weaving a heady perfume that clouded her thoughts.
His lips traveled slowly down her throat, each kiss a promise. Hinata's back arched as he pressed her against the stone edge of the pool. Steam veiled their bodies, but she could feel every solid inch of him—muscle, heat, need.
Their world contracted to the sound of their breathing and the hush of water. No politics, no duty, only the relentless pull of forbidden desire.
When at last they broke apart, droplets of water clung to their skin like jewels. Hinata rested her forehead against his, heart still racing.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice raw.
He brushed a droplet from her cheek. "This is only the beginning."
Outside, the night wind rustled the bamboo. Inside, the bathhouse held its breath—guarding their secret until the next stolen moment.