The shelter was bare bones. A pair of poles, strategically placed knots on the ripped canvas of the waterproof sleeping bag and a pair of stubborn naked trees.

Beneath the shadow cast by this contraption the fire spat and sparked, disturbed by the drip drop of melting snowflakes sizzling to death in it’s embrace.
The ice had begun to come down slowly in the late afternoon, transforming the already chilly bare woods carpeted in gold and red leaf corpses into a cloud pierced by trunks of trees. 

As the black of night fell in a hush they spread the wobbly roof over their heads, set the brittle twigs to burn and hunkered down to pass the night soon to feel endless. 

It surprised him to feel the soft warmth at the back of his neck. It was a vulnerable spot, a sensitive spot. A place that could in the wrong hands be used to destroy him with the quick jab of a knife. All he was contained within those few inches of neck, unprotected by his gifted eyes. 

Her breath bloomed soft as she pulled back just enough to whisper, “I’m so cold.”

This all would have been fine. Agreeable, in fact if for only a handful of things such as: 

a) Hinata Hyuuga had never spoken the voice this creature was using. Deeper, breathier and…suggestive it went against all he had ever so much as considered to be part of the Hyuuga’s personality. 

b)She was a kunoichi, of high rank and with an ingrained politeness that had never once in their professional and unremarkable acquaintance showed a single gram of interest towards touching him in any way. 

c)With her face buried now between his shoulder blades, and her hands sliding to tuck into the folds of his clothes-presumably to warm her chilly fingers a reply of some sort was required of him. 

Yet, he could not move. 

Ah. 

His mind worked, calculating and cold to decipher the meaning behind his current predicament. It naturally had to be jutsu. Someone was playing some sort of mind game with him and had obviously delved into the part of his brain where a single shameful memory lingered of a dream he had had weeks prior.
They were using his partner and those dreams to disarm him. Well, they were morons. He was Uchiha, he was not to be bested, especially by something as feeble as this ridiculous hallucination. 

He felt rather than decided to breathe out in a huff of air that fogged before his face. Heat, silken smooth and delicious as well as strangely painful pooled over his belly button where Hinata’s hands had reached beneath his clothes. Palm flat, her fingers closed and opened in a soothing rhythmic pattern. 

“Sasuke?”

This could not be happening. It was a dream- or rather, a nightmare. Likely as not his mission partner was in danger if she was not being subjected to similar.
Hinata’s body aligned with his, curling her knees into his, twining her feet and shifting her hips along his frame. 

Soft and warm she let out a sigh against his neck that ruffled his hair and tickled his ear. “Sasuke?" 

His limbs seemed to creak with the effort of moving. Whatever the jutsu was, it’s potency had to be commended. He could smell her. Part sweat, part sickly sweet forest leaves mid decomposition and part something else. Something with heat unlike pepper, but like…wine. 

Get it together, damn it. 

Twisting around to face her was the best he could do, and even that had his skin bristling with annoyance at the sudden feel of cold where her body had warmed and was no longer. 

She looked like Hinata. Wide eyes, small nose, full mouth in a half pout of confusion. Her hair fell in a silk black pattern across her cheek. HIs fingers twitched and he marvelled that he had considered reaching out to push the darkness of the locks back. 

"I’m very cold.” She had upgraded the sentence, and as he looked back at her he blinked slowly, gathering together a sharp reprimand that would surely get her to snap out of it. 

The words ended up being tugged out of his brain by the chilly breeze that swept over them, unimportant when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. 

Definitely jutsu.

Gently her lips brushed over the skin of his mouth, the friction a burn he thought unequal to the stimulus. Careful, as though it was an art she had perfected, as difficult to achieve as calligraphy her lips parted, her sigh whispered over him and her tongue slid warm on his bottom lip. 

There were no words with which to reply. He wanted to be shocked, to move and shove her to rip apart the jutsu but instead a sound was born in his throat, a twisted fervent moan of a sound. A want. 

Slow as the methodical overflowing of a river bank her kiss deepened, her fingers shifted to the belt at his waist, her shoulder pushing him onto his back as her leg slid over his hips. 

Jutsu. It’s just justsu. 

His wrists felt weaker than normal, any attempt to grip her hips not releasing the pressure he required. Curtained in the dark by her mane of black hair he shivered, no longer from the cold as her mouth pried him apart and her tongue gently coaxed a moan from his throat. 

It’s just like the dream. It’s not real. 

Her hips shifted, grinding painfully slow against him so that as she pulled away he could do nothing but close his eyes and try to breathe.

What the hell am I doing?

It was a feeble shamed whisper of a question, because he knew the answer. He knew it in his marrow. 

Her fingers fiddled with the belt, with the buttons, with the elastic of his underwear beneath. The tips of that hand were warm now, smooth and toasty as they played with the elastic. Elegantly she leaned forward, breasts pressed to his chest so even his strangled breath was a beautiful torture. 

Pale eyes calm, she studied his face, the stupefied confusion and mild worry with interest. “You are always so talkative. Are you all right?”

The roll of her hips once more forced him to close his eyes, to gasp again, to remain silent. Unconcerned by his lack of reply she slid her lips from his chin to the solid curve of his jaw. 

“If I am cold you must be too. I can warm you up though, yes?”

No, no, no. Snap out of it.

No longer playing her small elegant hand burrowed further into his clothing, snapping his eyes open to the dark of night spotted with stars, with clouds, with swirling snowflake patterns. 

“Sasuke,”

Her mouth was so warm.  

I am on fire. 

“Are you warm yet?”

It hurt to wake. Limbs stiff with the cold, dusted in snow, shivering violently he shifted and froze. 

Hinata lay beside him curled in fetal position and so pale there was a tinge of blue to her mouth. If not for the steady puffs of fog before her face at every breath he would have thought the worst.

Unsure of himself, or his reality he let his eyes shift taking in the darkness of the sky and the brightness of the moon. Besides the bitter whisper of the winter wind there was no sign of movement. With the charred remnants of the fire before him he swallowed. 

He must have simply fallen asleep. 

Surely… he just…

When his gaze slid back to Hinata the paleness of her face had faded to a rampant red flush, and her gray eyes stared with a knowingness that made him doubt. 

Breath snagged, painful as a splinter in his chest he stared back unable to decide if he had dreamed or if he had sinned.