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Death Wish	By : Sessakag Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata Views: 1150 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto or characters, just this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Death Wish
- 1
Prompt: Western

Death Wish

“You’re going there to die, aren’t you?”
Naruto paused on the final buckle of his horse’s saddle, letting his silence answer that emotion laden question. He had neither the time nor the energy to explain to her that he’d died nearly two years ago, that there was nothing left of him to kill.
He was a hollowed shell.
A breathing corpse waiting to be laid to rest.
Dying hadn’t crossed his mind, not that he didn’t believe it would happen, rather, he didn’t care if it did.
If this was to be his final hunt, so be it, it was the only one that mattered to him anyway.
He went back to securing his horse, straightened, adjusting his slightly askew Stetson as he did. His clothes were dusted in a layer of dirt that drifted to the ground as he stood.
‘You’re dustier than tumbleweed, Naruto-kun.’
His throat tightened as her giggle reverberated in his head. It was exactly the sort of thing she would have said, had she been here. She would have dusted him off her self, though she probably would have wrinkled her nose at the color of his dirty attire.
She always said he looked his best in vibrant shades, orange especially.
He hadn’t worn anything lighter than gray since the incident.
Today was no different. He wore a long sleeved, midnight colored shirt below a dark gray vest, black jeans and his worn leather boots.
His friend’s said he looked like the Reaper himself, garbed in mostly black.
Today, Naruto planned to be for one man in particular.
“Hinata would never want you to throw your life away! She’d want you to live on and be happy!”
The words floated in one ear and out the other. He knew what Hinata would have wanted, he knew better than anyone else in the world…
…but he also knew that she knew he’d do exactly what he was about to do. That she knew no force on this godforsaken earth could stop him. They were two halves of one whole, one soul in two bodies. There was no her without him, and absolutely no him without her.
Hinata had died, but she took his heart with her.
There was nothing left for him to do but hunt down those responsible for her early demise.
And once he was done, once he’d , he’d join her in the afterlife, whether that happened at the hands of his enemy or at his own.
That was his plan, that was goal.
That was his only motivation to drag his weary soul from bed day in and day out.
He checked his pistol next, making sure it was loaded, then stuffed it in the holster on the right side of his narrow hips.
“Listen to me!”
Her sharp tone annoyed Kurama. The bright orange horse shuffled his hoofed feet, pulling the tether keeping him connected to the hitching post taunt as he danced his irritation. Naruto gave the animal an absentminded stroke to the muzzle, afflictively soothing his display of temper before reaching for the rifle resting against the rickety stairs of the Emerald Tavern.
“Naruto!”
He scooped it up, grabbed ammunition from a pouch on the saddle and started loading.
“What do you think going out this way is going to solve?”
Once finished, he slung it on his shoulder, tightening the strap to ensure it wouldn’t end up sliding off. He strode over to his saddle, reaching to check his canteen.
“Hinata would be so disappointed in you if she knew what you were doing!”
The pain was sharp and brutal, shoving him right through the gates of Hell.
She may as well have shot him directly through the chest.
He spun, charging up the stairs of the tavern to confront the pinkette glaring back at him, spurs clinking ominously across the porch.
Sakura Uchiha didn’t back down.
She stood and resolute, fists clenched in her bright green skirt, hiking them up ever so slightly as though readying for a physical fight. Her fierce emerald orbs held an unmistakable sheen, her pink lips pressed tight but trembling. She was upset, she was scared, she was angry, worried that she was about to lose yet another of her childhood friends.
He knew what she was feeling, he recognized her distress for what it was and yet his heart was too hard to absorb and process.
To take her pain into consideration along side his.
A year ago he would have care, a year ago he would have felt her pain so keenly he’d swear it were his own, a year ago he had been another person entirely.
Those days were long gone.
“She’d never-”
She broke off, backing up as he neared, pressing her back to the window behind her as he bent, brining his enraged face level with hers.
Crowing her space with the brutal intensity of his own.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you don’t know shit about what she’d feel!” he thundered, feeling more than he’d felt in months, “I know what the fuck she would have wanted for me! She was my fucking wife! The person I loved the most in this goddamn world!”
“Then you of all people should know-”
“I do know! You’re the one who doesn’t have fucking clue!”
Sakura had no idea what he’d lost, no idea the way the lovey dovey Uzumaki’s had lived, how deep that bond ran, and for her to invoke his deceased wife’s name, something everyone knew not to do in his presence, and then proceed to tell him how Hinata would have felt and reacted, poured acid over the festering wound that was his shredded heart.
She’d crossed so many lines, for a fleeting second, he hated her and that sickened him.
“Enough, Naruto!” Sasuke growled, stepping from the salon, his crisp white shirt blinding in the sunlight, made more vibrant by the darkness of his jeans.
“Sasuke, you have to stop him,” Sakura pleaded to her husband, “he’s going after Orochimaru!”
Not in the mood to fight with his bestfriend, Naruto turned and charged down the steps.
“Stop him Sasuke! He’s going to get himself killed!”
Unhitching his horse, he swung into the saddle, gave Kurama a nudge with the heel of his boots and galloped away.
~W~W~W~W~

Orochimaru.
The worst outlaw to ever roam the wild West.
A former allopath who had strayed from the path of healing to delve in the sick, twisted arts of experimentation.
For the last decade, his gang of ruthless cretins had plagued every major and minor city known to man. Orchestrating robberies, kidnapping political figures and their relatives, smuggling illegal goods from town to town. They were responsible for the most heinous murders and brutal beat downs, their cruelty knew no bounds and spared no one.
Their ringleader was a slippery bastard.
Known to hide out in the various abandoned mind littering the Western planes, the pasty skinned snake jumped from one hideout to another, making pinning him down next to impossible. Naruto had spent the last year searching each and every mine even remotely rumored to have been a haven for that human garbage.
No luck.
Until now.
Ducking behind a box of discard rocks and pickaxes, Naruto reloaded his pistol, a terrible grin splitting his lips.
His blood was pumping, heart pounding, a choir ringing in his ears, singing him the melody of vengeance.
Finally, after months of searching, he’d found the man that took his world away.
Orochimaru was here.
With his own eyes, he’d seen the object of his hatred step inside the dried up gold mine, disappearing inside before he could slip his gun of his shoulder. Undeterred, Naruto had taken out the guards at the entrance with his rifle, picking them off one by one then entering the dimly lit cavern, switching to his pistol for the ensuing resistance.
They’d been waiting for him, guns drawn.
He’d barely had time to find cover, dropping down to safe seconds before finding himself shot full of holes.
And that’s where he was now, pinned down and grinning like a maniac.
He poked his head up briefly as the hail of bullets lulled, his quick glance locking onto three bandits in firing range.
He popped up again, too aim and shot, returning to cover as his target cried out.
He shot another before the storm started again.
He squeezed himself tighter behind the box, unfazed when a stray ping the box near his head. He was too busy thinking about his next move, a risky shot that could very well collapse the whole mine. He’d rather shoot Orochimaru himself, but having that snake die the way she had held it’s own appeal.
He shrugged, grin widening.
He’d roll the dice on it.
He waited for another lull, then rose and shot the small box of dynamite resting beside some unlucky bastard.
The explosion rocked the mine on its foundation. The hanging lights above swung violently, a monstrous gust of wind, debris and heat swept the tunnel, nearly blowing him from the cave alongside its force. He struggled to his feet in the dusty aftermath, ears ringing but determination driving him forward. He stepped over broken lights and stray wood, squeezing the trigger on those still alive as he passed.
He strode further down the man made halls.
He found a room ten minutes later, a room in which glass jars littered crooked metal shelves, organs bobbing in strange liquid inside each and every one of them. There were cages on the dirt floor, some big enough for ten human beings, other too small for anything other than an infant.
Wooden tables sat in a row, each one covered in crimson stains, a few with severed body parts still inside the manacles attached to them.
His jaw clenched.
Guess that confirmed the rumors of the horrors whispered in taverns across the Wild West.
Running feet snapped him back to reality.
He pressed himself against the wall next to the open door of the torture chamber, his pistol raised.
The moment the intruder stepped through, he jumped from cover.
Finger on the trigger, Naruto raised his pistol level to the space between a pair of hauntingly familiar lilac eyes.
His own baby blues widened as reality ground to a halt.
He…
He’d lost it.
After nearly two years of batting with fleeing sanity, he’d finally lost it.
Sometime on his way to his final showdown, perhaps during that explosion, Naruto had lost his ever-loving mind, because there was absolutely no fucking way that his wife, the other half of the Uzumaki bounty hunting team, stood with a double gauge shotgun leveled at his gut, ready to blow him to kingdom come, and yet the image stood firm.
She was garbed in a black, short sleeved blouse tucked into a midnight ankle length skirt. A thick gray belt cinched her waist, and chocolate, worn down cowboy boots peaking below her skirts.
Her long violet hair, a color he’d never seen on another person but her, lay gathered in a sloppy side ponytail, tossing her vibrant strands over the right side of her bosom the way he loved.
He was crazy.
She wasn’t here.
She was dead.
That day, they’d been hunting Orochimaru and his gang, ready to bring their 100th bounty to justice and collect the hefty reward. They’d followed him to a rumored hide out, only to realize they’d been lured into a trap by the snake. The mine had been rigged to blow. He remembered waking up after the blast, searching for her, only to be told by his rescuers that his wife was gone. Crushed and forever buried beneath rocks and rubbles in the now abandoned Lark Mines, beyond his reach until he finished his current task.
The sound of metal hitting the floor was distant to his shocked mind, but the slender arms that twined his narrow hips, the lush body that pressed against his, the familiar scent of jasmine that teased his nose were all too real.
All too present.
All too mind-blowing.
Shaky, tender hands cupped his cheeks, and he was pulled down to face the honest to God truth.
His wife was alive.
“They said you were dead!” she sobbed, tears dripping freely down her cheeks, “in the mines, they said you got caught in the collapse and- they said you were gone!”
His mind was spinning, the words so fucking familiar because that’s what he’d been told!
His own eyes burned, his throat so tight he could barely breathe.
She hadn’t died.
She was here.
Alive.
He reached for her own cheeks, fearful she’d evaporate into nothing when he touched her, the way she did in his nightmares.
Tears soaked his hands, warm skin permeated his skin, his cold heart filled to the brim.
Beating steady for the first time in what felt like a thousand lifetimes.
“Hinata,” he whispered hoarsely.
She smiled, that bright smile that lit up the entire world, the one that made the earth turn and the sun rise.
A beat later her features sharpened, startling him. He didn’t get a chance to ask what was wrong before she full on shoved him to the floor with all the strength inside her little body, following him down and grabbing her discarded shotgun as a hail of bullets punctured the wall above their heads.
Fuck!
He’d forgotten the fucking showdown.
The suicide mission he’d taken on.
Thinking on his toes, he kicked a nearby table over, and tugged them both behind it.
“Right side, baby!” he shouted over the roar of gunfire, “I got the left, ‘ttebayo.”
She nodded, sharp wet orbs meeting his, memories of past shootouts flowing between them.
Whipping up her skirt, she drew her own smaller pistol from its holster.
A thought crossed his mind as she glanced over around their cover, then returned to safety as more gunshot rang out.
A sickening one that made his insides clench.
“Four of them,” she informed him, “two on the right, one in back, the other on the left.”
It was hardly the time to be asking this, they were in a fight to the death, but he had to know if what he suspected was true.
“Why are you here?” he demanded, anxiety turning his insides to mush.
She startled, eyes widening a fraction.
She bit her lip, then looked away, and it told him all he needed to know.
She was here for the same reason he was.
Revenge.
An easing of her burden…removal from a world that she thought he was no longer apart of.
His heartbroken wife had harbored the same death wish as him, planning to leave this plane avenging the death of the one she loved most.
He shouldn’t be angry but he was.
It sickened him.
To his very core it made him ill in a way he’d never felt before.
He understood her torment, her day to day pain missing that other part of her soul, but the idea of her wanting to-
He swallowed hard, jaw tight, fist clenched.
“Don’t be angry, Naruto-kun,” she pleaded softly, “I tried…I promise you I tried but I just couldn’t-”
“Don’t,” he snapped, over a bullet storm, “I get it, fuck, of all people I understand but fuck, Hina,” he ran a shaky hand through his hair, “I can’t think of-.”
He swallowed, the words tasting like filth on his tongue.
“I’m sorry…” she murmured, laying her hand on his.
“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” he replied, holding her pale hand as though it were his only lifeline, “you don’t have shit to be sorry about, ‘ttebayo,” Sakura’s distraught face passed through his thoughts, “fuck, I should be sorry too. I know you wouldn’t have wanted this for me either but I couldn’t go on either. It was eating me up every minute of every day. I was hurting so goddamn bad.”
Her hand tightened,
Without words, he knew she understood the hell he’d lived in.
Only she could truly understand.
Screams joined the gunshots, snapping them both from their reverie.
“NARUTO!!!!”
They glanced over the table, taking in the dead bodies strewn across the floor and a group of people filing into the room, guns drawn.
One dark haired, dark eyed, incredibly pissed off Uchiha stood at the forefront of his procession of friends. Hinata leaned closer to him, whispering; “I think he’s upset with you, Naruto-kun…”
The cavalry had arrived.
~W~W~W~W~
The slippery bastard got away again.
Naruto, hand and hand with his revived wife, along with his childhood friends, Konoha 13, as they were known, searched the mines top to bottom, only to discover he’d slipped out a back entrance.
Naruto wasn’t too bothered.
There was always another day.
Right now, all he cared about was the return of his wife.
She stood crushed in the center of group hug, crying happily amongst their friends. They though her dead too, considering her disappearance.
She hadn’t left the miens unscathed.
She’d been rescued days after he was rescued, discovered by thieves picking the mine for stray gold, they’d taken her to the nearest town.
A town he’d been in only a day before her arrival.
She spent a while in comma, and when she woke, a rumor of the Great Uzumaki bounty hunter’s death circulated, complete with an incorrect newspaper article in the paper. Grief stricken, she’d planned on returning to Konoha as soon as she recovered, but a stray rumor of Orochimaru’s presence had sent the widow down the same war path as her husband.
She’d searched one mine after another, until finally landing here.
Maybe it was luck.
Maybe it was fate.
Whatever the fuck it was, Naruto was grateful.
He was also ready to take his wife home.
Strutting across the mine entrance, Naruto broke up the get together, ignoring the half hearted grumbles as he dug his wife out.
He bent, scooped her wife over his shoulder and strode off.
“N-Naruto-kun!” she trilled, giggling despite herself.
She made herself comfortable as he carried her away, shiny violet locks a rippling curtain down his back.
Once he reaching his trusty steed, he swung his wife into his arms, sat her up front and leapt up behind her. Snaking a tight arm around her waist and grabbing the reins, he wasted little time kicking his horse into a gallop, and making a beeline for his old, wooden home.
~W~W~W~W~
It wasn’t much to look at, his old house.
Made of layered wood, a single story high, it was merely a place to rest his body until the next mine search took place.
He hopped off his horse, scooped his lady from the saddle and onto his shoulder and booked it up his rickety stairs, completely forgetting to tether his horse to the post out front. Naruto was notoriously absentminded, and this certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked off without securing his ride, not once had his trusted steed ever trotted off without him.
Kurama would never run away.
Setting her on her booted feet the moment they crossed the threshold, Naruto dove for her plump rosebud mouth. He lifted her little frame, kicking the door closed as he lost himself in the taste he’d starved for, for over a year.
Knowing where this was headed, feeling his heat, his intensity, his perfect little wife kicked off her boots and reached for the buttons of his vest, unbuttoning most of them nimbly, and popping a few that gave her grief.
He didn’t give a shit.
He set her down as he shrugged from the vest, their lips still attached, his own hands reaching for her blouse.
He was far less delicate.
Shinny buttons flew in all directions, fleeing his rough hands. A soft gasp left her lips as he ripped the thick material clean from her torso.
She reached for the hooks of her bra herself, knowing he’d bend the mental if she let him. He was content to liter her neck in his brand in the meantime, nipping her soft skin with his teeth, sucking bruises she’d wear for days along the smooth column of her throat.
The moment her bra hit the floor, he filled his hands.
Warm jiggling flesh, hard nipples, so fucking familiar his chest ached. He fought back the knot in his throat, the ghost of past love making before their separation, turning his mind instead to reality of her return, to the realness of present.
He dipped his head, latching onto the nearest bobbing point.
“Mmhm,” she whimpered, carding soft fingers through his hair, a small shudder traveling through her form.
He loved that sound, that little noise of pleasure that only passed her lips when he Frenched her sensitive nipples. They were her biggest weakness, the quickest way to leave her a quivering bundles of nerves. He tugged on the other, rotating and petting the lonely bud, silently promising it equal attention.
Harsh pants filled the room, joining the loud slurps of his mouth.
She reached for his shirt, a giggle trilling from her throat as he fought the arms in the way of his wife’s delicious tits.
“Let me get your shirt off first!” she laughed.
“Taking too long,” he muttered, slathering her puckered nipple in hot saliva before sucking hard enough to arch her spine.
Momentarily distracted, his pale beauty wrapped her arms around his neck, indulging him his make out session with her pretty nipples, though he was all about compromise for her.
He switched to the other, laving lovingly while loosening the buttons of his shirt.
Her breath hitched then held as he took her nipple between his teeth, giving her a bite of pain before soothing it wet and gentle, circling the point with his tongue.
She tugged on his head.
He rose, receiving her kiss hungrily. Grabbing the open sides of his shirt, she lead him forward as she walked backwards, guiding them to his bedroom. Nibbling her bottom lips, he unlatched his holster, steeping over it as they crossed the threshold of his room.
They spun, changing positions as they neared his four-poster bed, the lips separating only when his calves touched the mattress.
He sat heavily, lungs heaving as he licked his glistening lips.
Hinata took a step back, working the buttons holding her voluminous skirt on her wide hips.
It dropped like a curtain, sliding heavily to the floor, leaving her in the sexy pastel lines of a garter belt, an empty leg holster and knee highs.
Creamy skin, mouth watering tittles, glistening folds at the apex of her thighs.
She was a temptress
He crooked a finger at her.
She closed the distance with all the grace of a gazelle, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she stepped between his legs.
He pressed his lips to her smooth belly, slathering her skin in warm saliva.
He held her steady as she mounted his lap, and his cock. She sank down tortuously slow, enfolded him within the delicious heat he thought he’d never experience again. She gripped his shoulders as he spread her resisting walls, that nostalgic fight to sheath himself inside her tiny cunt blasting him in equal parts pleasure and agonizing grief.
When their groins met, when they were as close as humanly possible, he felt it.
That intangible connection that bloomed only when he was with her.
Fuck, he was home.
Crouched in his lap, cheeks dripping the pretties tears in the world, his wife cupped his face and whispered, “I’m home.”
She kissed him as his throat burned, washing his pain away with the sweetness of her love.
She moved, rolling her hips in that perfect, sensual way that drove him insane, ending her little dance in a seductive swirl that drew twin groans from their throats. Her little fingers clamped down on his shoulders, her hips stilling as she sucked in deep, stabilizing breaths.
She shuddered, her insides fluttering, milking.
“That feel good, sweetheart?” he whispered a breath from her trembling lips, groping the firm flesh of her clenched buttocks, kneading the flesh as he rocked her forward, “you miss me filling your tight little pussy?”
“Yes,” she moaned shamelessly, sliding her tongue across his lips before confessing breathlessly, “I missed how good you make me feel. The way you fill me so deep I can hardly think straight.”
He hissed a breath of his own as she punctuated her secret with another wet squeeze of her saturated cunt.
“I missed feeling your strong arms around me,” she continued, trailing open mouthed kisses across his collarbone, “I missed the taste of your skin…”
“Fuck, I missed you too,” he husked, pressing her tighter to his chest, “I missed holding you in my arms, hearing your voice,” his voice deepened, “I miss feeling you squeeze me tight with your wet little cunt, ‘ttebayo,”
She hummed a sigh of pleasure, riding him slow and and lazy, squeezing him inside the way he loved.
“Show me how much you missed this,” he demanded, giving her left cheek a hard smack, “show me, sweetheart.”
A soft breath left her lips, body flinching beneath the erotic sting. She kissed him, sweeping his mouth with her tongue, riding him hard and fast, his creaking bed rivaling her trilling moans.
He spanned her waist as she bounced in his lap, trailing his hands along her spine, thrusting up into the graceful gyration.
Hot rivulets dripped down his length, soaking his lap in fluid, amplifying the harsh smack of flesh meeting flesh. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her eyes rolling, head listing back. Gripping her chin, he brought her face to his, catching her eyes with the stormy intensity of his own.
“Look at me,” he growled, smooching her lips twice before command, “look at me, don’t close your eyes.”
After a year apart, he need to see her, to know that all of this was real.
She was dazed and barely listening, her flushed face suffused in bliss. He pinched her nipple, tugging hard, demanding her attention. She winced, snapping her misty lavender depths to his piercing blue.
Orgasm exploded across her face, her luminous eyes beginning to slide closed.
“Don’t close your eyes, look at me, baby, look at me,” he rumbled urgently, drinking in her ecstasy, “look at me while you cum.”
Her lush body convulsed, jerking with each pulsating wave of sensation rocking her nerve endings, her thickly lashed eyelids drooping but never fully closing.
She was gone, oblivious to his presence despite her steady gaze, completely caught in the all consuming vortex of climax and he watched it all with leering eyes. Fascinating by the far away look in her moonstone orbs, entranced by the intensity transforming her angelic features into a lust inducing display of hedonistic bliss. Smoothing his hands up and over her jumping muscles, relishing the harsh contractions demanding his seed, Naruto pumped his hips, stroking her wet, swollen walls, finding that little spot inside her sex that sent her careening over the edge as he watched his own perverted little show.
She inhaled sharply, letting it out on a low, whine, clutching his obliques, wrapping her body around his as her small form launched into another round of theatrics.
This he remembered too.
That chain of explosions his wife endured at the height of ecstasy, those crashing waves of orgasm after orgasm she couldn’t control.
He pulled her to his chest, clenching his jaw as her pussy milked and gushed.
He fucking loved when she lost herself to rapture, when carnal lust eclipsed her entire being.
It got him off like nothing else.
He fought back the tide with effort, panting harshly through the urge to coat her insides in creamy semen.
“Naruto,” she mewled in his ear, rocking her hips.
He stood, carting her across the room with him, smooching her swollen mouth as he plopped her bottom on his old, rickety dresser. Yanking her stockinged knees to her chest, he plowed into her wet cunt, knocking shit left and right off the low surface, the abused wooden rectangle banging the wall in time with each back breaking thrust.
Desperate fingers fisted his short locks, the other slid through the wide open collar of his shirt to find purchase in the sweaty planes of his back.
“Yes! Yes! Naruto!” she wailed to the ceiling, “I love you, I love you, I love ymhhhmm-”
He swallowed the arousing proclamations, sucking the oxygen clean from her lungs as he fucked her senseless, sending her gushing cunt into another rounds of convulsions. He gripped her hips, rocking her forward into his hard thrusts, ramming her pussy harder and harder with each mind numbing contraction. Muffled gibberish flowed from her lips to his, slender legs hugged his torso.
He shuddered, feeling his own end nearing, the rising tension screaming in his sac.
It was a fight he didn’t win.
He came in a hot rush of ejaculate, a burst of ecstasy that bowed his back, and curled his toes. His roar of completion bouncing off the walls of his near empty bedroom.
He shuddered, locking his knees as his strength waned.
He listed forward, resting his weight on his poor dresser and his poor little wife. The later welcomed it with open arms, wrapping damp arms around his shoulder.
He panted against her naked bosom, nestling comfortably between the soft mounds.
“I’m home,” he whispered, sighing as gentle fingers combed through his damp locks.
~W~W~W~W~
Laters
Sessakag~
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