"--need to go--" kiss "--just for a minute, let me--" kiss "--go to the bathroom, I--" kiss "--god, you're a menace, I'll lift you onto this counter, and you'll stay there until I get back--" giggle, kiss.
You whispered filthy whispers against Kento's lips, playfully dragging him back to you by the collar each time he tried to release himself.
Half-huff, and half-kiss, he grumbled and spun you around as you laughed, gripping your hands behind your back and pressing you forwards against the counter.
"--unhand me, wife, or I'll tie you up--"
"--don't threaten me with a good time, Kento--"
"--truly-- truly incorrigible woman--"
You laughed again, arching back against him, and pressing his cock into the crease of your barely-covered arse until he moaned; in annoyance, or lust? You weren't sure. Perhaps both. You had the bit between your teeth.
Kento wouldn't put up with your shenanigans for much longer. He slapped your arse, jiggling it with a growl, and dashed past your swiping hands to the bathroom. You whined, then sighed to the sound of his victory chuckle, the bathroom door clicking closed behind him.
Silence-- for 30 seconds. A minute. Two minutes. Three. You called out, smirking.
"Doesn't take that long to pee, Ken--"
The bathroom door clicked open. A low, mulish grumble sounded from within.
"I...can't go."
You frowned, stifling a laugh. "What?"
"I can't go. I'm too hard. I...can't pee."
Bursting out into laughter was your downfall, and it broke down into panicked squeals as Kento stomped out of the bathroom after you, his lap tightly tented over his cock.
He tossed you onto the sofa, dragging you back by the legs when you tried to wriggle and escape, and pinning you beneath him with nuzzled growls to your throat.
"--thorn in my side-- too erect to piss, and other problems my wife causes--"
"--oh, no, whatever can we do to fix this--"
"--you're talking too much and wearing too many clothes, as usual-- come back here-- certainly one thing we can do to fix this, madam--"
Higuruma Hiromi huffed, and puffed, and heaved the bucket up against his belly. He lifted with his back. Cold water slopped over his shirt, sticking it to his skin and trickling down beneath his boxers and belt. He shivered. He scoffed at the many-toothed creature that loitered behind him.
"Good god, can you-- can you not-- not help a bit?" Hiromi huffed. He tripped over stage rope and abandoned props, through the curtain-swag dark, towards the stage.
Judgeman, armless and silent, hovered along behind him. It must have sensed its dismissal, because by the time Hiromi had reached stage left, it had floated away behind a curtain and not come back.
Hiromi stepped onto the stage; but the stage was already occupied. Hiromi froze. Indignant fury, bitter petulant disappointment, and pearl-clutching affront washed through him.
There was a girl in his bath.
A girl.
A girl in his bath.
"Ah!" called Hiromi, walking faster now with his sloshing bucket, like a father who had caught his child mid-nonsense. You, halfway through sinking into the bath, looked up. "Ah! No, no, no, thank you very much! Not today, thank you!"
"I beg your pardon--"
"That, is my bath!" Hiromi huffed, grunting as he set the bucket down on the lip of the tub. "That is my bath, I think you will find, and I have been filling it for hours--"
"Not a chance, I've been eyeing this up for days, I've brought bubble bath and everything--"
"Well!" Hiromi sniped, pouring the cold water into the bath, and grimacing with grim satisfaction as you squealed. "Well! That's just too bad, isn't it, because it's mine--"
"I'm already in, so it's mine."
A laugh, hysterical and mirthless. "Oh, no, that's not how this works, sweetheart-- out, now-- get out--"
Splashes. Cries of outrage. Oofs. Roars of irritation.
Hiromi's top half was drenched. He scrabbled to haul you out of the bath; and failed. You proved a slippery customer, and slid around in his grasp like a freshly-oiled dolphin.
"For goodness' sa-- keep still!"
"Shan't."
"You fucking child--"
Splashes. Giggles. Huffs of laughter, tongue in cheek and sour.
Eventually, drenched and growling to himself, Hiromi straightened up. You smiled up at him, sitting pretty. He shook off his soaked sleeves. He looked at you, pink with outrage; and, perhaps, something else. Something different.
"Fine," he snapped, petulant again. Though you had at least removed your socks and shoes, he did not, and clambered into the other end of the bath as you preened at him. "Fine. Have it your way. Be quiet. Don't talk to me."
"I've got bath bombs. And wine."
"Now we're talking."
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"...and so it comes to a point where it's no longer nihilism to say that the world is a cold and unjust place, and that nothing really matters, it's just miserable, hard fact--"
"Very hard to take you seriously when you're covered in bubbles."
The man you now knew as Higuruma Hiromi yanked on your bare foot, tickling it and pulling you towards him as you squealed. It was your turn with the one glass of wine, but he reached over and plucked it from your hand, draining it in one fell swoop.
You watched his Adam's apple bob. You shivered. He noticed. He draped your leg across his chest and shoulder, leaning his cheek into it with a sigh. His smile fell away, his face becoming hangdog and drawn again.
"It is a bit cold, isn't it?" he mumbled into your calf.
Your eyes softened. You sighed, and took a swig straight from the bottle, before leaning over and passing it to Hiromi. "The bath, or the world?"
"Both."
"The bath, yes. The world, I...I can't bring myself to condemn."
"Then you're a foo--"
"And neither can you."
Higuruma stilled. His grip on your leg tightened. You felt every strong fingertip, mapping constellations upon your calf. You continued, softer.
"And that's what makes this so hard. Because you keep waiting for the apathy to come, and it's not coming. However many people you kill, however you try to convince yourself that the Culling Game is 'full of possibilities', it's not coming. The truth remains; you see the human cost of this, and it eats you up inside."
Hiromi did not answer. He stared into some endless place past the curtains, where red and black mixed as one, until you could not tell where one ended and the other began.
"There is joy to be found," you whispered; even in the depths of despair, yourself. "And there will always be the need for someone to fight for the justice required, for joy to be possible. And, you're covered in bubbles, and drinking straight from the bottle, and--"
"--in the bath with a beautiful woman," Hiromi murmured. You fell silent. Heat bloomed in your cheeks; down your breasts, your belly, your thighs, and then upon the inside of your ankle, where his lips and nose did graze. When his lips began a slow, longing press, he paused. His eyes flicked over to you, reading. You did not stop him. His lips finished their press, hot and branding.
"I don't want to keep doing this," he admitted, parting your thighs to slide himself up and between them, into something of an embrace with his chin rested between your breasts. Your heart could have broken, with the shards of soul in his eyes.
"Not...not this," he clarified, gesturing wanly at you as you sniffled out a laugh. "But this. The...the murder. The bloodshed and...and violence. I don't know what I am. What I've become. Just a murderer, covered in-- in--"
"Sadness and bubbles."
"Sadness and bubbles, yes," he huffed, nosing at the spot between your breasts until you arched up into him. You did not need to talk; the consent implied and the touch electric, and his mouth found your collarbones, your neck, your cheeks, your mouth, kissing, groaning as he tasted you and you buried your fingers into his hair.
Still, Hiromi fretted, even as he twitched and groaned and precum spurted to mix with the waterlogged cloth between his legs.
"If-- if I feel this," Hiromi panted, grinding his aching cock at the crest of your thighs until you reached down and released him, to his hiss and bared teeth. "If I feel this, what else will I feel-- fuck--"
"Then feel it," you gasped, shuddering as his mouth closed around your nipple and sucked, tongue swiping, teeth scraping. "Feel it-- and if you start c-crying halfway through, that's fine, no judgement--" A laugh, deep and appreciative. "--that's fine-- kind of hot, honestly--"
Another laugh; this one, thicker. "Shit...alright. Stay with me, at-- at the end. In for a penny--"
His hand, long-fingered and deft, had just slid down towards your pussy, when the theatre door creaked open way up at the top of the stairs. You froze. So did Hiromi. He turned his head slowly, and you felt rage beginning to prickle along his shoulders, unbound, until--
"Er, are you Higuru...uh...erm--"
You could hear the peach-haired boy's blushes from all the way down on the stage. You buried your face into Hiromi's chest, stifling your laughter. Hiromi, still mercurial and high-voltage, was less amused.
"You're interrupting," he toned, low and deadly smooth. You felt the peach-haired boy tense. You cut it before it built.
"Hey," you whispered to Hiromi. "He's just a boy. Give him a chance."
Hiromi nosed at your ear, huffing a little. He stilled, and thought, then spoke up, barking up to the boy.
"Give me twenty minutes. Then come back. And I'll give you anything you want."
The boy froze. He looked baffled; sweetly so, as if it should be so easy. "Oh, uh...really?"
"Yes."
The boy scarpered. You turned back to Hiromi, and bit your lip. Hiromi grumbled, and reached down, and covered your hand that grasped his cock with his own, stroking himself with your grasp once, twice, three times, until he thickened and twitched and moaned.
"Right," he groaned, his fingers sliding down to press inside your pussy, readying you as you readied him. "Where were we?"
"Shit," Kento hissed to himself, braced on his elbows and leaning over on his knees, at the edge of the sofa. He sucked a bead of blood off the pad of his thumb, grumbling.
On his lap lay his blade; beside him, a trail of inkspotted white bandage, carefully uncoiled and recoiled into a ribbon. It's ancient, you thought; and your stomach lurched, as though Kento had snuck into a museum to unravel a mummy.
You padded towards him, all pyjamas and bare legs, before setting a coffee down upon the table.
"What's wrong?"
"It's getting sharp again. My blade."
You blinked. You paused. "That's...a problem?"
"It's a blunt blade. It is supposed to be blunt." At your bewilderment, Kento sighed, leaning back, and rubbing his jaw, before eyeing his blade mulishly. "It's cursed. It sharpens with overuse; it does not blunt. So every now and then, it needs...blunting. Or it's not as effective."
"You have a method for that, I assume?"
"I do. Or-- I did. First it was Haibara. Then, Gojo. But Gojo is away, so..."
You blinked again. You frowned. "I don't follow."
Kento didn't elaborate. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and dialed, and waited with it against his ear. Your frown only deepened when he finally spoke.
"Yuuji," Kento hummed. "I have a favour to ask. If you wouldn't mind."
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It was a strange scene to watch. You didn't say a word as the exchange (of instructions and weapon) took place before you.
"Now, you must take very good care of it," Kento ordered, his hands grasping Yuuji's, which grasped the spotted blunt-- sharp-- blade. Yuuji looked terrified; but determined. Imbued with divine purpose. "I'll be away for a few days."
"I-- I will," Yuuji stuttered, clasping the blade to his chest and crying out as it threatened to slide from his grasp. Kento did not react as you did, your mouth pulling tight in horror as you reached out to catch the weapon. Kento held you back with one raised palm as Yuuji continued. "I...I can't believe you'd trust me with it, Nanamin."
"I would trust no-one else, Yuuji."
Yuuji looked as though he might cry. His lower lip drew up, and he grasped the blade like it was a newborn. "I won't let you down, Nanamin."
"Good. I'll call you in a few days."
"It...it doesn't need a case?"
"No. It's better without."
Yuuji walked away. You gave Kento a side-eye, faint with horror.
"Kento, you...are you sure? I mean, I love him, too, but don't you think he's a bit--"
You heard a metal CLANK! You saw the blunt blade slipping from Yuuji's arms to tumble down the steps beneath the torii gates. You could have wept, finishing with a sigh. "...a bit clumsy."
"I'm counting on it," Kento smiled, watching fondly as Yuuji sprinted down to the spotted blade, cursing and looking left and right to check for witnesses.
"I'm...sorry?"
"He'll have trouble with it," Kento hummed, watching as Yuuji struggled to keep the blade balanced within his grasp. "It doesn't like being sharp. And it likes to help itself along the way."
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For two days, Kento and you suppressed your cursed energy, and followed Yuuji around every single corner.
Yuuji would slide the blunt blade into his backpack. His backpack would immediately tear open at the bottom, and the blunt blade would clang its way down a whole flight of stairs.
Yuuji would twirl it absentmindedly, lose his grip, and his soul would leave his body as the blunt blade clattered out of an open window that absolutely was not open before.
Yuuji would take it to bed with him, cradled in his arms in a swaddle, and would achieve little more than a completely sleepless night, as the blade slipped to the floor every five minutes on the dot.
The blunt blade would be left, growing duller by the minute, in the middle of a completely empty room upon a silk pillow, and by the time Yuuji returned, a pipe would have burst above it and water and sawdust would be seeping into its rough ferrous surface.
It was an impossible object; a veritable bastard of a piece of equipment, seeking to plunge and plummet and pummel every surface it could, until it was stained and ragged and chipped, and duller than a wet weekend. You got used to Yuuji's cries and shouts and roars of despair.
"This is cruel, Kento," you tutted, as Yuuji begged and pleaded with the blunt blade on his hands and knees ('How? How could this happen? I left you right there-- I left you right there! I'm so fucking clumsy, Nanamin's gonna kill me!').
Kento hummed to himself, satisfied. He checked his watch. "You're right. That should do it."
He pulled out his phone again. Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Click--
"Yuuji. I'm home. You have my blade?"
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"You took good care of it?"
"Uh-- y-yeah-- the best."
Kento stroked a finger along the (damp, dirty, chipped) blade's edge. You watched Yuuji sweat. Kento smiled.
"I can tell. Thank you, Yuuji."
Yuuji visibly relaxed. Still, his heart seemed to have aged a decade. He staggered off towards the dorms as Kento twizzled his blade in his hands, satisfied. You grimaced at it; an antique, irreparably battered, and most importantly, blunt.
"He has absolutely ruined that, Kento."
"I know. Isn't it wonderful? He's even worse than Haibara was. Extraordinary."
Kento cleared his throat, and checked his watch again. He turned and made towards his car, with a spring in his step.
"Come along, my love. We should take the country roads back. I'll tie it to the towbar and drag it home, for good measure."
"Yuuji. I won't force you to tell me; I know you understand this. But I would appreciate it, as your--"
"As my what, Nanamin?"
A pause, stiff and tight. A barely audible sigh, and a tie being loosened. "As your...your mentor, I would appreciate it if you told me where you got that black eye."
You watched from the corner of your eye, from the kitchen. You'd been stirring the same cup of tea for almost five minutes. Your husband stood before your son child baby Yuuji, with his arms crossed. Yuuji sat before him, rested forwards on his knees, with a sulking grimace and a blueviolet eye.
"It doesn't matter, Nanamin. Forget about it."
"I cannot."
"I said, leave it--"
"I cannot."
Yuuji growled, bearing over and scruffling his peachy hair hard. Kento was unmoving; but not unmoved. He sighed again, drawing a dining chair before Yuuji, and sitting with crossed legs and folded hands and a doctored coolness. His voice was measured.
"It wasn't from a curse. And I understand you must hold yourself back in a fight with anyone ordinary, for fear of hurting them. As such, I commend you for your...restraint and responsibility. However--"
"Ugh, 'however'--!"
"However," Kento continued, his face darkening. Yuuji did not see it. He was not watching. You were. "It matters very much to me that you are safe, Yuuji, and if someone is hurting you--"
Yuuji would not hear it. He stood up fast. He plunged his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and stomped past Kento, all the way to the bedroom that you and Kento called his, and slammed his door.
Kento was tense. Kento was silent. His shoulders seemed broader; the angles of his body and mind, more defined. His anger held presence and court.
You walked over slowly, and placed down Kento's coffee, and settled gently upon his thigh. His hand slipped around your waist, but he did not look up from the unseen horizon into which he stared. You removed his glasses. You folded them upon the table. He blinked.
"If you don't," you whispered, scraping your fingernails through his undercut, "then I will."
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"Hey, hey-- Itadori!"
"Hey, where you going! We just want to talk to you!"
"Just wanna be friends--"
Filthy laughter. Orcas circling the ice. Quick steps; quicker breaths. An alleyway; an escape!
A dead end.
Yuuji stopped short, his boots skidding in the gravel. His body and mind could not differentiate between the adrenaline of Curses and near-death, and the adrenaline of a pack of teenage boys his own age.
A fight flared up in him, hot and vicious, but when the first jeering grin appeared around the corner, Yuuji snuffed the fire out. He could not. He could kill them. He would kill them, not again can't happen again can't--
"Guys, I...I'm just heading home. I don't want any trouble--"
"New school, huh, Yuuji?"
"Oooh, new school!"
"For pricks and retards, is it?"
That laughter again. Yuuji hadn't noticed himself backing up, until his back hit the wall. He kept his head down. The ghost of a punch still ached in his eye. He squeezed them closed, trying not to cry, just a boy just a stupid little kid--
A shove. Another shove; a hit, with nowhere to go.
That fire sparked again. Yuuji couldn't stop it. The injustice of it all, all the faces of bullies of futures past clouding his vision with red. Patchwork, grinning and scarred. A stolen face with a tack-stitched forehead. His childhood tormenters, all the same, they're all the same kill them like they deserve them they'll know what's coming to th--
"Yuuji."
A voice from the mouth of the alleyway. Yuuji's heart stopped. Relief warred with shame; the latter won, and it ran down his face and neck like hot sick.
The boys looked up; their faces grotesque, steeped in foul shadow as they were. They twisted again.
"Awww, Yuuji! This your boyfriend, Yuuji?"
"How much do you pay?"
"How much did he pay?"
Laughter, laughter, laughter. Cool, steady steps approaching closer. Coos and jeers, hot spewing goading nonsense. A throat, being cleared.
"Do you know these young men, Yuuji?"
Silence for a moment. The pack, looking down at Yuuji and waiting for an answer. Eventually, Yuuji mumbled.
"Just...just go, Nanamin. Please."
A hum; almost regretful. "I cannot. It wouldn't be right, as your..."
"My what?" Yuuji spat, his face arching up to glower at Kento for the first time since he had approached.
Kento looked unmoved; but not unmoving. As he spoke, with one fine brow delicately raised, he was removing his beige jacket, and folding it neatly onto a black industrial bin, and rolling up his sleeves, and removing his tie.
Yuuji's face fell lax, as Kento wrapped said tie around his hand.
"As your father." Kento turned to the pack of boys, with a look that could turn men to stone. A few of them were wise enough to take a step back. "Now. I suggest you all go home."
A pause...then laughter; this time, uncertain.
"Oh yeah, old man?"
"Yeah, yeah-- more like 'Daddy'-- like 'em young, do ya--"
"'Father', eh? That a kink thing?"
Yuuji snarled, stepping forwards with a fist cocked back. "Don't you fucking dare! Talk to him! Like that! Bastard! I will mess you up--"
"Language, Yuuji."
"Ugh, Nanamin--"
Kento raised one finger. He paused, until all eyes were upon him. He clarified.
"We will fuck you up."
Yuuji froze. Laughter threatened to bubble out of him. Kento cleared his throat, and stepped one leg back, and tugged his trousers to loosen at the thighs. He flexed his fingers to crack.
"Now, boys. Are we going to fight?"
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"Irresponsible," you spat, daubing Kento's split knuckles with antiseptic. "Irresponsible, childish, stupid little boys!"
"Awww, Mrs.Nanamin, they had it comi--"
"Not them!" you spat again. You tossed down your gauze, and stood before them both (cringing on the sofa like children) with your hands on your hips. "You! You two, starting a fight in an alleyway, like a pair of-- of--"
"Thugs?"
"Delinquents."
"Yes!" you snapped, glaring down at Kento. He hung his head. Yuuji's ears were red. You turned to him. He cowered like a puppy. "Yuuji. Go to your room."
Yuuji didn't need to be told twice. He ran. He slammed the door behind him. There was a pause. Footsteps. He reopened the door, just to close it politely.
You waited a few moments, breathing hard. Kento dared to peek up at you from beneath his brow. You peeked back over your shoulder...then crouched down to Kento, flushed and whispering and grinning.
"Did you fuck them up?"
"I did."
"God, I knew you would, I'm so proud of you-- so gorgeous-- I adore you--"
A grunt of surprise; a sharp intake of breath.
"Darling-- please-- I'm injured--"
A scoff. Thighs straddling Kento's lap. "Not that injured."
"If Yuuji comes out--"
"After that ear-bashing I just gave him? Please. He won't leave that room for a week. Now get undressed."
On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.
Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19
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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.
All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.
"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"
'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"
"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."
You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.
Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.
In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.
And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.
"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."
"You think I'm funny."
You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.
"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."
Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.
"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"
Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.
"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.
"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"
"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."
Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.
The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--
"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.
"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"
"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.
Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.
Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.
"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.
"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.
You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.
"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.
"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.
By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.
Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.
"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.
"...what are you sorry for?"
"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"
"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."
Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.
"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.
"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"
"--absolutely not--"
"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"
"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"
"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"
"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"
"Kento, please just come to bed with me."
Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.
"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.
You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.
"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--
"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.
"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--
"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"
"Oh. I need a Golem."
"Oh."
"Nice."
You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.
"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"
"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.
You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.
"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.
You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.
Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.
"Do you...like it when I touch you?"
Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.
"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.
"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."
Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.
Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.
"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"
"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"
Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.
Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.
Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.
"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"
He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.
"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.
"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.
Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.
"I can...can I? Please?"
"Please. Please, yes please, god."
"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.
His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.
He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.
"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"
A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.
"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"
Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.
"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.
"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.
"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.
"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.
"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.
Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.
"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.
Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.
"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"
As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.
"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.
Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.
"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.
"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"
"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.
Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.
"...stop?"
Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.
Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.
Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.
You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.
The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"
Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.
"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"
Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.
"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"
Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.
He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.
"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.
He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."
"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"
"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"
"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.
"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.
Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.
"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.
"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--
"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."
Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.
Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.
You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.
"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.
Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.
Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.
Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.
Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.
Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.
"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"
"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.
Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;
"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"
Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.
Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.
You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.
"...again?"
"...give-- give me a minute."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."
You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.
"Oh?"
"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.
"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.
"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"
The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.
You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.
Full of hot air. Annoying piece of shit, waste of time--
You and Sanemi approached the safehouse, scraped and bloody and pissed off. You felt every scrap of annoyance as an electric frisson over your skin, made irritatingly worse every time he brushed against you.
You stuck a palm out, trying to shove him further away from you, and only succeeded in shoving yourself further from him, so bizarrely immovable was he. His face, already stormy, snarled.
"What's your fucking problem?"
"Stay out of my space Shinazugawa--"
"--you're the one fucking staggering--"
"--yeah, well, it's hard carrying the whole team--"
Sanemi laughed, mirthless. Now bracketed by arching wisteria, in a tunnel to the door, he hammered his fist on dark wood, turning his back to you.
"Yeah, alright kid, the circus called--"
"What the fuck are you talking about, Shinazugawa--"
"--yeah, yeah, they want their clown back--"
The pair of you were too busy bickering, sniping and biting, to thank the elderly woman who let you in. She rubbed a single wizened hand down her face.
As you stormed away to the baths, the old woman caught Sanemi, saying something to him that made him spit feathers, apoplectic and vengeful. You didn't care to listen, and instead shut the sliding door, sunk yourself into the awaiting hot bath, and stuck your head briefly underwater to scream.
Somewhat calmed, but still brittle and fractious, you encased your body in a fine white robe, leaving your clothes aside to be de-bloodied by the house staff. Stepping out, you were greeted by the old woman who had welcomed you inside.
"Come along, dear. It's a good thing you two are married, I only had one room--"
You frowned, uncertain, and about to open your mouth to argue back before being unceremoniously shoved into a room, the woman a little too eager to escape from you before you could throw vitriol at her.
You turned on the spot, flustered, in a handsome traditional room. A large, squashy bedroll lay upon the floor...and Sanemi sat upon it, looking pugnacious and nonchalant.
"...get out of my fucking room, Shina--"
"Shut the fuck up. It's our room for the night."
You faltered, short-circuiting and drawing your robe closer to yourself, feeling so naked. Sanemi continued, stripping his uniform top off, throwing it aside. You felt yourself flush hot from head to toes, despite yourself, at his chest and back, all hewn stone and sculpture. He still didn't look at you as he continued.
"They only had one room. They were about to turn us away, so I convinced them we're married. You're welcome."
You fizzlecracked with rage, burning with mortification.
"You? Married to you?"
Sanemi bristled, offended. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean--"
"Oooo I'm your little wifey now am I? Lucky little Sanemi, so fortunate to have such a lovely wife protecting him in battle--"
"--you are such a pain in the ass--"
"--I'll be your dutiful wife, shall I? Here, let me take your clothes, dear one, I shall wash them--"
Sanemi stood slowly now, his shoulders hunched beneath something dark, approaching you like a tiger on the hunt. You continued your relentless mockery, furious at having to share a room with him, as if you could hide how badly you dreamed of him at night, when you weren't tearing each other to shreds--
"--cook meals for you, rub your shoulders and listen to all your woes. Such a perfect little wife--"
You felt yourself shoved back to the wall, squeaking as Sanemi's sweat and blood filled your nose. One strong hand clamped over your mouth, a forearm planted above your head. He panted, seething under your constant barrage of abuse.
His voice was so low, you could barely hear but for the tickle of his breath on your neck, and you shivered to feel him lock you in place, planting a knee between your legs.
"Yeah. That's it. You'll be my little wife. And I'll be your doting husband...if you don't want to sleep in the fucking forest for the night."
You trembled, raising your hands to press weakly at his chest, certain you couldn't hide it now, the longing behind the mockery--
Sanemi didn't move, a shudder running through him as your palms grazed against his nipples. His voice continued, gravelly under the strain of your plush body, caged against his.
"I'll listen to you tell me about your day...and I'll be interested, too. I'll actually listen."
You felt a blush smatter across your breasts, barely contained by your robe and not unnoticed by Sanemi as he continued.
"I'll tell you I missed you...and you'll take the piss out of me like always, but it's just because you missed me too and can't find the words to say it."
Your breaths came hot and fast, tear-filled eyes glimmering up at him as he deconstructed you, foreplay through playing house.
"And I'll pull you close...much closer than this...more like this--" Sanemi pressed his whole body flush to yours, and you groaned. Sanemi caught it in his palm, feeling his cock harden against his thigh at you, trapped like a little rabbit beneath him.
"And I'll kiss you...until you're squirming, and begging me for more. And I'm a devoted husband, so I'll undo your robe...and slip my hands inside to squeeze you so hard, you bruise, until you're all wet and peachy for me..."
Your head swam, feeling yourself wetten as if by some Pavlovian magic. You clamped your thighs around Sanemi's knee, his eyes dark to feel the heat of your empty core against him.
"...and I'll get you ready with my fingers...'cos I'm big, y'know? And you're great at taking me...but I like to feel your cunt shaking around my hand, while I fuck you with it."
Your fingernails pressed crescents into his pecs, now, supple and pliable against the wall as he fucked the fight out of you with his words, all this time just tearing each other to shreds just to avoid telling him and now what for if it never worked all along were you always so fucking obvious--
"And then...I'll use some of that soaking little pussy cream to cover my cock, jack it off it a few times to get it ready for you, but I'll lick the rest off 'cos I know you like that--"
You moaned into Sanemi's palm, squirming hard enough to free one breast, and Sanemi cursed under his breath, his voice rough and wavering as he drank down your trembling curves.
"...and 'cos I'm your husband...I'll fuck into you all at once. And I'll fuck you, and fuck you, until you're yelling out my name, but it won't be Shinazugawa anymore 'cos that's your name, too, wife, it'll be Sanemi instead...or something like that, anyway, 'cos I'll be honest, you'll be too fucked out to talk properly when my cock's splitting you in half. Finally. A way to shut that fucking potty mouth of yours."
Your hands trailed up his chest, beginning to wrap around his neck, involuntarily rubbing your clit over his knee with a shaking moan, throbbing with the promise--
Sanemi released you, stepping away abruptly, leaving you cold and gasping and wet against the wall.
"As your husband, anyway. Not that I am. So shut the fuck up...and go to bed."
You sunk to the floor, stunned and speechless, unable to form a single comeback. You gasped up at Sanemi, his back to you as he undid his hakama. His head, all ruffled white spikes, came up once more with an ah! of realisation, and he shot his final, critical hit.
"...and I'd cum inside you. Obviously. Doting husbands like you all round and pretty and full of their seed, right?"
