wound me, oh dearest. XVIII
Pairings: Soshiro Hoshina x Reader
Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Romance, No Smut, Arranged Marriage, Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love
Summary: Trapped in a marriage with a man who does not reciprocate your affection, you try to find meaning in your life despite your upbringing.
Word count: 1705
previous chapter.
You held his wrist and softly pushed away the hand on your face. You fished for your phone in your pocket and accepted the call.
"This is [Surname] speaking," you greeted, hearing the sound of artificial gunshots with an upbeat music playing in the background. "Captain Narumi, how can I help you?"
The man in front of you raised his eyebrow before smiling. He gestured for you to put the call on loudspeaker, but you did not comply. With this, his expression changed into something more organic—he was irritated.
Of course, he was irritated. He was so close, and yet, a certain bastard just has to interrupt. To make it worse, you did not seem the least affected by it the same he was.
"Yo, [Surname]. You're in still Tachikawa, right?"
You turned your back to Soshiro and answered, "Yes, sir."
You stepped away, preparing to leave, but you felt a hand on the back of your shirt, pulling you back.
"Can you drive by that toy shop on your way back? The one I'm tellin' you about?"
He went in front of you and put his hands in each side of your hips. When you tried removing them, he did not budge.
"I remembered you mentioning it once," you confirmed. "You could send me the location to make it easier for us."
Soshiro's red irises bore into yours, as though challenging you.
"About the payment," Narumi sheepishly said, successfully pulling your attention from the swordsman.
"I'll be paying?" you answered for him.
Piecing things together, Soshiro immediately figured out whatever the conversation was about.
"Yer already running an errand for him, and yer paying, too?" he scoffed. "Ain't really respectable, but okay."
If this was any normal day, you would think that this was him teasing him like the usual. However, this really was no normal day.
"Who—bowl cut?!"
You flinched and distanced your phone from your ear.
You let him finish his hurl of insults for the vice captain before proceeding.
"He just passed by," you said as an alibi—admittedly a terrible one.
He lifted you from the floor and quickly placed you on top of his desk. Shaken, you could only stare in shock. With your thighs resting comfortably on the space that was empty, he got closer to you.
"I'm still here, y'know?" he said, not loud enough for the other male to hear.
You put your hand against his mouth. When he tried leaning back, you only pressed it harder. You watched his eye twitch, but you, too, did not budge. You blinked several times in an attempt to ground yourself, which was effective enough.
"Where was I? Ah, yes," you recalled, your tone returning to a more friendly one. "You can pay whenever, Captain Narumi."
"Really?!"
"Of course. It's spare change, anyway."
You felt Soshiro's lips stretch into a smirk.
You were still a lady of a wealthy clan, all right.
Giddily, Narumi said, "Cool, cool. I'll send you the picture of the model I want."
"I'll end the call then."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Narumi replied, borderline cheering. "You're a lifesaver."
"I'm glad I'm of help, sir."
You pressed the red button and waited for the image attachment.
"Didn't know yer into spoiled brats like 'm," he said, his muffled by your gloved hand.
You looked at him pointedly.
"Don't even try to insinuate that."
It was not his first time being reprimanded for his mischief, yet he stopped, almost as if he was behaving.
"'m messin' around," he reasoned.
"Joke about something else," you stated curtly, taking your hand off of his face.
Not wanting to get on your bad side, he nodded.
Just when he thought no more calls would come, your phone rang again. Soshiro, already vexed beyond belief, huffed.
"I swear to—is that 'm again?"
It was Platoon Leader Tachibana.
"Are you done with your stuff?" he asked.
You paid the vice captain one thorough glance.
A part of you wished to lie, but you could not.
"Not yet."
"Ah, I see. I guess I'll stroll around here."
"Were you able to buy the eye cream?"
"No." You heard him sigh. "I didn't even know that there's night and day variant for the same thing. The day one was sold out."
"You can check Yamazon."
"Will do."
With Soshiro's hands still on you, he moved them up an down the sides of your torso, his palms feeling the dip of flesh along your waist.
"What are you doing, sir?" you mouthed.
He simply shrugged.
As if completely fascinated by the sensation of your clothed stomach along his fingertips, he ran his thumbs on your lower abdomen and created circles on it. He sleepily blinked, yet the look in his eyes has never been more alive and awake.
You cleared your throat and told Tachibana, "Uhm, did you receive a location attachment from Captain Narumi?"
"Yeah, I did. Toy shop, right?"
"Uh-huh."
Your companion listened as the conversation continued. The moment the call was cut, he impatiently plucked the phone from your hand.
"Vice—"
"No more of this."
It was your turn to be annoyed.
"Sir, give me the phone," you demanded. "Soshiro."
His grin returned.
"Soshiro, huh?" he taunted, the pitch of his voice dropping. "Later."
With his face once more finding its way close to yours, he exhaled in satisfaction. He breathed in your scent, humming in enjoyment when he perceived the subtle fragrance of your body wash.
"Give me it," you said.
"No." He took his gloves off. "No can do."
You felt his breath fanning your cheek, and you were certain that he could feel the rigidness of your form. Your eyes looked everywhere but him, your mind digesting the fact that he was doing this without the influence of anything aside from his own, conscious choice.
"Soshiro," you warned.
"Look at me." He paused. "Please?"
His left hand left your hip and found its way to your nape. His thumb pressed lightly at the area just under your jaw—he was searching for your pulse.
"Soshiro." You swallowed. "Just give me the phone."
He listened and returned the electronics to you.
"Would ya look at me now?"
You did.
You looked at him, and you saw the kind of glint you have always wanted to see from his eyes.
"Don't look at me like you're asking me to stay," you stated, your voice fighting back the shakiness. "Because I won't."
"Ya didn't say anythin' 'bout not returning," he rebutted. "Ya can always come back, no? That's enough for me."
He guided you toward him, and you let him.
"We're the only ones here, so be honest with me."
"I am."
"Lying won't get you anywhere."
"I'm in my most honest right now." He planted a single peck on the corner of your mouth. "That kinda honest."
He kissed your lips, his own moving at a pace untypically slow for a man like him. Closing your eyes, you grasped his jacket to steady yourself as he put his weight onto you. He made a deep, rumbling sound from the back of his throat, and you felt his fangs digging softly, not enough to hurt yet enough to make you know that he was holding back.
He pulled away momentarily and admired your face with his eyes half-lidded. He licked his lower lip, like what he just put his mouth onto was delectable.
Gaining courage, your own hands began explored him. They rested on the places that they have never been before.
By the shirt, you draw him back to you. By the hair, you pulled him in.
"Soshiro," you suspired, each syllable in between kisses.
His jaw tensed, clenching.
"Don't say my name like that."
You might be unaware of the effect of your voice, but the way you called for his name made his conviction almost fail.
It was raw. It was unfiltered. It was luring him into the depths he was not prepared to dive into—and he will. He will dive into that unknown see if that would mean he could hear you utter his name in that manner for the second time.
"Like what?"
"Like yer prayin' for my downfall."
Your hand entered his shirt. His mouth fell to your jaw.
You desired to feel more of him, and he did, too.
"I am," you gasped.
He chuckled, and it sent heat to your skin.
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
He did not believe you. You did not believe yourself either.
However, even if you were actually to pray for his downfall, he would be right there beside you, chanting the same words.
"We could do this so many times, and I still wouldn't be satisfied," you admitted. "Even now, I am not satisfied."
You might have been raised to be satisfied and grateful with what you were given—scraps decorated with gold and porcelain, which were not satiating yet extravagant—but you would never be.
Deep down, you were that child who craved the chance to play under the rain. You were the adolescent who craved to talk about her interests. You were the lady who craved to own more than what you permitted to and damned those demons who robbed you of your autonomy. You are the woman who wanted nothing more than to have the man in front of you, who were kissing you as if a famished animal trying to act like it was not one temptation away from devouring everything it gets its claws on.
Your fingers, which spoke for you, clasped the strands of his hair as if grasping your lifeline.
It hurt. It gave him pain.
Yet, it gave him clarity.
"Then tell me what ya want."
You want more.
You want all.
You want him.
"I want you to open your heart for me. I want to know everything about you, and I want you to know about mine. I want you to tell me the reason for every single thing and word you've done and said to me."
He paused, listening to every word that left your lips.
"Can ya wait for me?" he asked, as though he was indeed willing to adhere to your desperate wishes. "[Name]."
"I'll wait," you whispered. "Don't take too long."
next chapter.
Author's note: Cue "Chinito" by Yeng Constantino.
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