@songcurse ASKED: a tentative exploratory kiss between friends.
โค๏ธโฌ ห๏ฝกโ โช ๐๐๐๐ & ๐๐๐๐ ! | not accepting.
For once, it was just the two of them. Satoru and Suguru had been sent on some mission together, their usual banter oddly absent. Not that it's a bad thing, especially not when it means she gets to spend some quality time with Utahime without those two bozos crashing it with their obnoxiously loud mouths, always getting their senpai riled up. This is so much better. Just them holed up together in Utahime's dorm room with a mountain of snacks, several movies they had rented, and maybe a couple of drinks that Shoko had sneakily managed to smuggle onto campus.
Would they really be teenagers if they didn't engage in a little underage drinking every now and again? Exactly. At least, that's what she had told Utahime when she pulled the cans out of her bag.
Shoko knows that she can get away with more than most, so she might use that to her advantage on the rare occasion. Exhibit A: the empty cans of chลซhai that they had already polished off. Exhibit B? Well, that was when she had leaned against Utahime's shoulder, cheek squished up against her as some movie she wasn't really paying attention to was playing in the background. Their hands are laced loosely together, and the warmth of her palm makes her heart trip over itself. The tips of her ears go a little red, and she hopes that Utahime thinks that it's from the alcohol ( ignoring that her tolerance is absurdly high ).
When she had posed her question, asking if she had ever been kissed before, Shoko hadn't expected it to go anywhere. It was just girl talk. Innocent. The kind of things that girl friends are supposed to talk to each other about. Her heart definitely doesn't pause traitorously when Utahime tells her that, no, she's never kissed anyone before. Her blood isn't thundering in her ears when she asks her if she wants to give it a try โ for practice, y'know? They're friends. It wouldn't mean anything.
Besides, they're both girls. That means it doesn't count.
That was her excuse, anyway.
Now whatever movie they'd been watching ( or in her case, mostly ignoring ) was completely forgotten, and they'd shifted on the bed to face each other. It's cute, the way that Utahime's cheeks get all pink, but she doesn't let herself get her hopes up. Utahime doesn't like her like that. So she'll be satisfied with this. She has to be.
It's fine, she tells herself. Just a little bit, and then she can forget all about how pretty Utahime is, how adorable it is when she gets all flustered, or the way that longing hooks into her ribs whenever their eyes meet, clawing up into her heart. It sucks. It's the worst.
Shoko gives her friend a reassuring smile. She can tell that she's nervous, so she lifts a hand up to Utahime's neck, her thumb brushing the hinge of her jaw in a way that is meant to be soothing. She leans forward first, though she's not entirely sure if when their lips finally meet it's because she closed the distance or if Utahime did. All she knows is that her lips are devastatingly soft and the taste of alcohol lingers on her mouth.
Nothing else matters except for this moment, except for the way that they both lean tentatively into the kiss. Her thumb instinctively presses down a little more firmly against Utahime's jaw, coaxing her mouth to open. The first brush of their tongues tears a shiver through her. Shoko makes a sound low, almost approving even though this is her first kiss too. She feels her hand slide up to her cheek, holding her like she's something precious, something worth keeping.
They're both panting when they finally pull apart, cheeks flushed rosy. Shoko drags her thumb along Utahime's bottom lip, her gaze following the movement.
"Maybe just a little bit more?" The breathless question is barely out of her mouth before they're kissing again. It's different this time, no longer the sweet, innocent press of their lips together. It's hungry now, almost greedy in its intensity. A sound suspiciously close to a whine claws from her throat. And thenโ
She's on her back on the bed.
Utahime is above her, straddling one of her thighs, her knee settled dangerously high up between her legs. They don't stop. Shoko can't stop, not when this is everything that she had ever fantasized about.
A little longer, she tells herself, but that voice is quickly drowned out by the sounds of their heavy breathing and the feeling of her friend's tongue sliding against hers, no longer nervous or tentative. She slips a hand down her spine, mapping every notch and vertebrae until she reaches the small of her back. Then she pulls her down so that their bodies are flush, her fingers inching up under the hem of Utahime's shirt.
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
discoholicmusic
titsay
dededos
