NSFW warning continued from above.
Previous|
Part 1|
Next Chapter
____________________________________________________________
The disjointed thoughts are betrayed by a nervous wince on my face, but I don't think Hisao has noticed—his head is still planted against the mattress. As he lifts his hips, I slip down to the floor and tug, sliding the khakis away in one swift motion. With nothing but a pair of boring, gray boxer-briefs hiding it, the outline of his erection looks unnaturally large from my low angle kneeling on the floor.
Maybe I should have brought the other box...
“You okay?” he asks, snapping me out of my reverie. “You didn't fall, did you?”
My eagerness did send me flying backward a little fast, but I hardly noticed the sound I made when I hit the floor. “I'm fine, just...”
My attention span is surprisingly short-lived as my eyes go back to the tent in his boxers. There's a weird feeling creeping over me as I watch it twitching under the fabric, and it's making me consider something I always thought would be repulsive. Standing back up on my knees, I crawl forward a few steps, admiring the sight before me, while Hisao sits up on his elbows and eyes me with a concerned frown. The lust in my expression causes him to swallow hard, and I barely register that I've placed my hand on the elastic of his boxers before I'm pulling them away.
And... there it is...
Resting for a moment, I kneel and gawk with a wry smirk. Hisao has a look like he did something wrong as I sit up and start to approach, but it's basically what I expected. The stiff appendage is mostly straight with a slight upward curve, and he apparently keeps it shaved. The soft, round sack below it looks weird, but it's actually kind of cute, like a wrinkly peach. While it isn't as large as it seemed from below, it's definitely a lot longer and thicker than the fingers I usually use, and I'm reasonably impressed—I'm not giggling, that's for sure.
It's not as scary as I thought...
There's a small amount of sticky liquid perched on the tip, so I run my fingers across there, then start spreading it downward to coat the whole thing. I'm almost appalled by what I'm considering as I run my fingers over every fleshy ripple along its underside, but I'll let my hands do the exploring for now. With nothing stimulating me directly, I can detach myself from the experience well enough to see him absently gripping the sheets, and listen to his soft groans of encouragement. Apparently pleased with my handiwork, Hisao starts mumbling incoherently and falls back against the mattress.
Being careful not to grip too tightly, I wrap my fingers around the base and start sliding my hand up and down slowly, using the glistening liquid as a lubricant, which is more effective than I expected. The shaft itself is surprisingly stiff, hot to the touch, bright red, and seems to twitch with each stroke. With my other hand placed firmly on his thigh, I smile devilishly as his hips start rocking gently against my hand, and I inch closer, purely out of curiosity. With my nose hovering just over the tip, I draw in a breath and smile as a weird, hazy sensation spreads across my body, and the formerly repulsive thought becomes a desire.
Taking my hand away makes him whimper, but he calms quickly when I sink down and trace my tongue around the edge of its head, then dart across the tip. Wincing, my brain is expecting it will taste like urine, but it's not an abrasive ammonia taste. Instead, it's intensely salty, and reminds me of fresh oysters—the only raw fish I actually like. Going into this, I hadn't expected to find myself kneeling on the floor, ready to start licking and sucking Hisao's dick like some kind of cheap whore, but here I am, and I'm actually eager to get started.
Only because it's him...
It keeps twitching away, so I reach up and grasp the base again, using my hand to angle its stance more in line with my mouth. Deciding to take the cautious approach, I run my tongue along the bottom side, slowly teasing my way up until my lips are perched over the tip. There's a moment where I wonder whether I'll accidentally hurt him—there are more nerve endings in it than any other limb—but after hearing the pleasured sigh escaping his lips, I don't think he'll even notice any unintentional nibbling.
Groaning, he breathes, “Aiko-”
Whatever he was going to say gets lost in a slur as I take a deep breath and dip forward, sucking it into my gaping maw. Not being accustomed to the sensation, I can feel my eyes tearing, even though it's barely touching the roof of my mouth, but the salty taste and radiating heat are otherwise tolerable. After a few long seconds, I let go of the vacuum and lean back, slurping against him like I would a bowl of soup, which elicits a happy grunt.
Wasn't my mouth dry before...?
When I look up, I notice he's resting up on his elbows again, watching my every move. The lusty grin on his face urges me onward, and I start sucking down and slurping back in quick succession, all the while watching his unfocused eyes as they roll back and snap forward repeatedly. After a few strokes, I start establishing a rhythm, and I'm slowly able to sink deeper, drawing more of him down toward my throat. This has the effect of eliciting a near-constant string of stifled groans from Hisao's pursed lips, and that turns my attention to my unused hands.
Instead of furthering his ecstasy, which, judging by the sounds he's making, I don't think he really needs, I send them down along my body. Closing my eyes, I pretend they're his hands caressing my chest, and continue downward. As I repetitively slurp and suck, I run my hands across my nipples and end up humming softly instead of moaning, which elicits a euphoric groan from Hisao. When I get down low enough, I slip both hands into the lacy panties and start tracing my fingers along my sweat-slicked thighs.
As I slide a finger along the edge of my engorged opening, a sudden convulsion causes me to lose the rhythm, and I push down too far. My throat locks and I start to gag, but I manage to back off of him before I bite down, or start coughing. Sitting back to try and catch my breath, I wince and frown, thoroughly embarrassed by my zealous mistake. While I'm attempting to gather my senses, I look up and notice Hisao staring back at me with a worried look in his eyes, and there's nothing but sincere concern in his tone.
“Are you alright?” he asks pleadingly, wincing and holding out a hand, “Are you hurt?”
He doesn't even care that I stopped...?
This is the last thing I wanted to happen, but I'm starting to cry, and that makes his frown deepen. Taking his hand almost automatically, I'm a little surprised by how easily he lifts me off the floor to sit beside him. Leaning against his bare shoulder, I'm beside myself with embarrassment and guilt, so I close my eyes and let the tears flow. This whole idea is starting to feel like a failure, but I don't want him to get the wrong impression.
“I love you...” I say shakily, the words crackling in my exerted throat, “I wanted this to be perfect.”
In response, he wraps his arm around me, and I feel his reassuring grip on my shoulder, followed by his calming baritone. “I love you, too—you know that,” he assures me, starting to rub his hand along my arm. “It'll be perfect with you here—and this is scary for me too,” he remarks, trying to make me feel better, “all of it... you have no idea...”
Comforted by his tone, if not the words, I'm still feeling overwhelmed, but his confidence makes me feel safe. Despite the sudden stop, his first concern is whether I'm alright, and that says something about him: that he's really in this with me, rather than just for himself. The worrisome remark about how scary this is for him sounds like another smokescreen, but there's truth in his claim.
“I think I have some idea,” I manage to say, opening my eyes to look into his. “You could die,” I add flatly.
My morbidity just makes him laugh, which I suppose is better than the alternative. “What a way to go, though, right?” he remarks, giving me a light shove, “In the throes of love-making with a Goddess of the Sea?”
Hitting him lightly on the leg, I protest, “Stop it!” but when he turns back at me, smiling warmly, I add, “On second thought, never stop that.”
“You couldn't stop me, anyway,” he claims, and I have to admit it's probably true.
We both delight in the silly fantasies we've concocted, and ending them would feel wrong. Even though they're totally ridiculous, I've found they bring us closer. We're alike in that, I guess, if nothing else. They're probably part of the reason I'm in love with this nerdy, damaged, hopeless romantic. The way he's looking at me now, with that calm smile on his face, I think he'd even be fine with stopping this whole thing, but I thought I had it so well-planned.
“I had this whole plan,” I remark absently, “showered, got gussied up, wore something sexy-”
“Thanks for that,” he interjects, “very high shock value.”
Rolling my eyes at his awkward compliment, I sigh and add, “best laid plans of mice and men, though, right?”
“Well,” he starts to reply, smirking at me sidelong, “I have plenty more movies we could watch, and... we are naked... well, I'm naked. You're functionally naked... not quite naked... borderline naked?” While he's staring at me with a mischievous smirk, I start to giggle. “You look great naked, by the way.”
“I'm not naked,” I retort, “I'm still wearing underwear.”
“Semantics,” he professes.
“Empirical data,” I correct, nodding proudly.
“I'll give you empirical data!” he exclaims, turning me toward him and moving in for a kiss.
While I'm surprised, I'm not protesting. The feeling of being overwhelmed has passed, apparently pushed aside by his babbling, and now he's becoming the aggressor. That isn't a bad thing, it's just unexpected; I like that he's taking the initiative. The roaming hands that felt tentative and exploratory before have become more adept at their scouting, it seems. Instead of being content to tantalize over my bra, he pulls the elastic material upward, uncovering my bare breasts without having to remove the clip.
How ingenious...
Slowly and deliberately, he breaks the kiss and starts moving down along my jaw, leaving a trail of kisses along my neck that send shivers all over my body. As his lips wrap around a stiffened nipple, I lean heavily against one hand and close my eyes, fighting back a whimper. Evidently it's just a brief stop along the way, because he leaves my nipple alone and continues downward, pressing kisses along my abdomen while his hands run along my arms.
When his head sinks down low enough, I reach back and unhook the bra, letting it fall over his face. With it held against his forehead, he looks up and smirks. “Now you're almost naked,” he says, giving his head a shake to send the bra falling onto the bed, “you're beautiful near-naked, by the way.”
He really likes that word, it seems...
“Better than Yoko or Amaya?” I inquire sternly.
He pauses to place a kiss over my belly-button, which forces a giggle out of me, then looks up and grins. “They were too far away to really enjoy... but you're way better,” he replies, looking back down and continuing to sink lower, “especially up close.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I coo, sliding back and trying to look demure.
I probably look stupid...
Without another word, he moves his hands down along my sides, gripping the lacy material on the way, and starts pulling the panties down. The material sticks to my bare skin, and the sensation of it peeling away makes me groan—I'm so sensitive I can feel his breath. The wonderment in his eyes as he takes a longing look over my smoothly shaved nether regions almost makes me feel embarrassed, but I don't feel self-conscious so much as nervous.
It's the same feeling he probably had when it was my turn...
“Now you're naked,” he whispers, and I barely manage to nod in agreement.
Once the panties are pulled completely away, I feel his hands pressing gently, parting my legs, then slowly creeping upward, and I find myself pawing at the sheets with my head tossed back. Delicately, his hands move over my skin until his fingers start tracing a line over my inner thigh, and continuing between my legs. Trying to stifle my reaction, I suck in a breath and hold it, but that isn't enough to stop the guttural groan.
“I'm not hurting you, am I?” he asks, but all I can manage is a stilted head shake.
The next few seconds are a blur of sensations as his rough fingers start rubbing haphazardly. Usually my own fingers don't provide such a reaction, but his are warmer, and totally out of my control. Every little stroke sends a jolt of electricity that I can feel running straight into my brain, and it's turning my thoughts to mush. With my eyes closed, and my head back, I can't see what he's doing, but I can feel every nuance, and just when I think I'm gaining back some control, he slips a finger inside.
“Hisao!” I groan, snapping forward, the word forced out reflexively.
Whatever he heard in my surprised tone, he's undeterred by my reaction, and continues probing. Sitting up now, I find myself watching his somewhat clumsy motions, which are effective despite being erratic. His twitching and rubbing leaves me breathing heavily, and I start moving my hips in an attempt to guide his finger, but he's too distracted by the sight to understand my attempts. Just as I'm noticing the parallel between my tentative hand-play and his own, I'm introduced to a warm, slimy tongue gracing along my outer folds, and that sends my back arching.
Instead of calling out his name, I bite my lip and groan while sending my hands straight out to my sides. Clawing at his sheets, I start to pant and moan, almost beyond my control, while his hands start reaching up to tease along my abdomen. Where that would usually cause me to giggle, it instead sends additional jolts of pleasure up along my chest, and I can feel every hair on my neck standing upright. Addled into a state of euphoric bliss, my hands practically work on their own, moving down to grip his head and try to pull him closer.
“Wrph!” he groans, but I manage to draw his tongue inside, and my following sigh of ecstasy encourages him to continue.
So much better than fingers...!
The fingers were warm and unexpected, but his tongue is positively hot, and the erratic nature of its motions almost don't matter. Each little twitch sends a wave of tingling pleasure over my body, and I can feel my muscles tense and relax with the rhythm of his ministrations.
Strangely, while he's licking my insides and I'm being blasted with little waves of euphoria, a thought strikes me that this would be a lot better using a more appropriate tool. With that thought in mind, I slide forward and catch his hands, causing him to pull away immediately.
“Too much?” he asks tentatively.
“Not enough,” I correct, pulling him up to his feet.
Before he can say anything else, I stand up beside him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, then meet him with a very wet kiss. Having never tasted myself, I'm a little shocked by the powerful smell on his lips, but it's not entirely repulsive—almost sweet, really—and he hasn't complained. Not letting that thought make me hesitate, I use my hold to edge him back toward the bed, and push him down to sit before me. While he absently traces a hand along my hip, I spot the the partially-crushed, orange box, reach over him to retrieve it, and pop it open as I stand back.
Holding it up, I chide, “Safety first,” to which he nods approvingly.
When I've removed one of the foil-wrapped packages, I nod toward him, and he follows my motion to lay back on the bed, pulling his feet up and laying out flat—almost flat, anyway. My eyes lock onto his engorged appendage, and, placing the package in my teeth, I hop onto the bed and straddle his knees. There's a worried look in his eyes, and probably a question he doesn't want to ask, but there's little stopping me at this point. This is going to hurt, I know, but I'm ready for that part, and I trust Hisao enough to believe he'll let me work that out before he gets too zealous.
Tearing the package open, the orange, latex sleeve actually does smell like citrus, but I'm too busy trying to figure out what to do with it to care. Looking down at his erection, I'm not sure if this thing will really fit, but I'm probably just making up reasons to hesitate. Meanwhile, he's watching me with a curious expression, as though he knows more about this than I do, but I think he's just trying to look confident.
“It rolls on, I think,” he states.
“I know!” I lie, reaching out to hold his dick in place, somewhat forcefully. While he's wincing, I place it against the tip and remark absently, “like... this...”
Rolling it out slowly, the condom covers all the way to the root, leaving a little air pocket at the tip. Ignoring the silly look of it, like an oddly-shaped carrot, I slide forward and raise myself up on my knees. With that look of worry back on his face, he places his hands on my hips and nods lovingly, waiting for me to start.
“Stop if you have to,” he says reassuringly, to which I nod.
Brace yourself, Swooner...
Reaching behind me, I guide his covered shaft until the tip slips between my folds, then start sinking down slowly. As it spreads the entrance, I sigh contentedly, but it's mostly the heat making me grin lustily. Suddenly I feel him against the thin barrier inside, so I bite my lip and close my eyes, steeling myself for the coming hurt. Like ripping off a band-aid, I plunge downward, and the shock of pain causes me to double over.
Catching my shoulders, he lets out a groan of pleasure, followed by a low whisper, “You okay?”
Am I okay...?
The pain is harsh for a few seconds, but tolerable, and decidedly brief. With Hisao holding me up, staring at me lovingly, it really isn't that bad. Additionally, I now have him pushed half way inside, and the throbbing of his pulse starts to cancel out the feeling of discomfort—like I'm being massaged from within. When I start leaning back, he lets go of my shoulders and places them on my knees, still looking concerned, but he's starting to smile again.
I'm okay...
“I'm fine,” I assure him, looking down with a lascivious smirk.
Before he can reply, I start sinking down again, and he loses whatever he was going to say in an incoherent gasp. My own guttural moan matches his, and I slowly start rising and falling in earnest. Each downward thrust drives him deeper inside, and each little twitch sends a jolt of pleasure, making me forget my inhibitions. The dull ache that remains is so faint I can barely feel it anymore, replaced with tingling euphoria that excites my vocal cords into continual moans of pleasure.
Nothing I've ever managed to do with my fingers even approaches this feeling, and I'm starting to make a lot of noise. Hisao is decidedly quiet, apart from the heavy breathing, and he's coherent enough to notice my sudden loss of composure. Reacting quickly, he leans forward, hugs his arms around me, and meets my lips in a deep kiss to muffle my continued moans. After a few moments, Hisao pulls his feet under himself and starts matching my movements, raising his hips with my down-strokes. Each rhythmic thrust pushes me closer to ecstasy, and any feeling of pain is completely gone.
My body starts following its own rhythm, of which I feel like I'm only in control of the speed. Timed with my quickening heartbeat, I drive down and feel every bump teasing along my insides, then rise up until I've almost pulled away, before sinking again. Meanwhile, his hips lift up to meet my strokes, and his twitching, thrumming staff starts to feel bigger, like it's growing with each thrust. I can practically feel the blood surging through my every capillary, and it feels like every nerve ending in my body is ready to short out, but I'm able to maintain the rhythm.
Slowly he starts losing control as well, but the signs are more subtle. His whole body is flushed red, and he keeps tensing his shoulders and flaring his nostrils, but he's eerily quiet, as though he's concentrating. The erratic heartbeat I can feel radiating against my bare chest, and between my legs, is quickened like that of a bird, and his thrusting starts to become more erratic over time, but he doesn't look distressed so much as determined. Feeling as though I'm on the verge of climax, I break the kiss and I bury my face into his shoulder, hugging him tightly.
The feeling is apparently mutual, because as I'm reaching my zenith, he groans and starts thrusting faster, pushing me into overdrive. Feeling his dick start to expand and contract pushes me past the breaking point, and I crush myself against him, halting the thrusting after one final drop, and trapping him deep inside. My whole body tenses as my climax unleashes a rain of euphoria from my head, and sets my whole body to quivering. The involuntary shaking and contracting of my inner walls causes him to groan something unintelligible as the pressure inside shifts, and his climax sends hot fluid shooting against the thin condom, driving my orgasm to redouble.
Stuffing my mouth against his shoulder, I barely manage to stifle my continued cries of ecstasy. For whatever reason, be it love, biology, or something I can't begin to describe, being locked against each other, entwined so completely, makes riding out my climax feel a million times better than when I'm alone. In the moment of clarity as my shaking starts to subside, I'm certain it really is love, however silly it might sound, making it better simply because it's with Hisao.
I love him... he loves me... and I think it's enough...
After a few long moments, the tension holding us together breaks, and he falls backwards, utterly spent. Collapsing against him, I continue heaving heavy breaths, and grinding my hips slowly as aftershocks course through me, each one followed by a happy groan from my exhausted lover's pursed lips. When I've recovered my senses enough, I slip off of him and roll against his side, wrapping my arm across his chest lazily.
Lovers... I can call us that now...
Laying against him, pawing at his scar absently, I start to notice he's recovering slowly, and it has me a little concerned. Ignoring my fatigue, I crawl up beside him to hover over his euphoric-looking face for a moment, and find myself admiring his afterglow. His heavy breathing continues, and his eyes seem to have lost all focus, but there's a certain quality to his tired gaze, almost like he's radiating happiness.
I probably look similar...
“Are you... okay?” I ask breathlessly, concerned by his delirium.
“I'm great,” he replies groggily, though he's still not focusing, “how're you?”
Taking a moment to think, I smirk and reply, “Sweaty, tired, and naked, but otherwise fantastic.”
“Naked, yes... fantastic, good...” he mumbles, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow, “Empirical data achieved.”
And then some...
The pace of his recovery is still a concern, but he's regaining control over his breathing, and that's a good sign. While he's still somewhat delirious, I reach over and extract the messy condom, which makes him grunt and wince, then toss it in the trash before laying back down beside him so I can watch him breathe. Once I'm sure his respiration has returned to normal, I reach down beside the bed to retrieve a blanket and a pillow. As I'm pulling them up over us, he breaks out of his skyward trance and rolls over to kiss me on the cheek.
“You're... amazing,” he compliments, still sounding a little breathless, “that was... like... I don't even know-”
Stopping him with a kiss seems appropriate, and effective. When I break away, I sigh contentedly and reply, “You too... way better than my fingers.”
The leading response makes him stop his quick retort, and he raises an eyebrow at my blatant confession. Now that we've shared the experience, I don't feel embarrassed admitting my weakness for self-satisfaction. It's probably a little too much information, but I feel like I can share that with a lover, now that I have one. Happily, it doesn't seem to bother him, which makes me feel like less of a deviant.
“Me too,” he replies, sucking in a breath, “I may have to retire my hand...”
“Okay, it's cute when I say it, but-”
He cuts me off with another kiss, and I sigh inwardly instead.
Worth it...
As we're laying here, recovering under the covers, I start to feel like I could go for another ride, but I doubt he's ready for that—physically or mentally. That doesn't stop me from trying, so I start sending my hand over his chest and arms, and planting little kisses on his shoulder. As I'm starting to elicit a response, I notice a scared look in his eyes and decide to stop my teasing.
“Sorry, I'm just eager, I guess,” I apologize, earning a hand around my shoulder.
“I think one near-death experience is enough for today,” he retorts, making me laugh. After a moment he adds, “I love that you're eager, though.”
Fixing a serious look on him, I remark, “Whenever you're ready.” A careful nod is all the response I get, which is enough for now.
While he continues nodding, I settle against his side again and rest my head on his arm. Laying here with his arm around me, completely naked, I can't help starting to think about what we just did. It really was amazing, far better than I expected for my first time, and I really would mount him again this instant if he were ready. However, there's a guilty feeling starting to creep over me, and it's ruining my lover's high a little.
There's no doubt I love Hisao now, and very little doubt that the feeling isn't mutual. The prospect still scares me, but if I can lose some of my inhibitions for him, I should be able to drop all of them. That leaves me with another moment of clarity. All the things I've been keeping from him roll through my mind: the jealousy, the stupid future plans, and even my disease. They're walls that somehow seem superficial and unimportant now, certainly less frightening, and almost childish; like I only hold them up to keep myself down, trying to sabotage myself for no good reason.
Over the past weeks, I've been waiting for an opportune time to tell him, and laying beside him naked seems like as good a segue as I'll ever stumble across. We're alone here, there's nobody to perk their ears at our private conversation, and I really do feel totally safe with Hisao. Looking over at his still-somewhat-delirious smile, I can't imagine him taking anything I say poorly, and after seeing his reaction to my foul-up earlier, I think he'll be willing to work through anything I throw at him.
It's time I told him the truth...
Sitting up, I collect the blanket against myself and turn a longing look down at his smiling face. There's comfort in his eyes, and a question on his lips, but he remains silent. Watching me carefully, he sits up and drapes an arm over my bare shoulder. Looking into his piercing brown eyes, I almost lose my nerve, but he finds my hand under the covers, and starts stroking it ever so gently with his thumb as he leans forward.
Sometimes he just knows what to do...
“Penny for your thoughts?”
The words make me laugh nervously, as I recall I used the same question the other night. The sincerity in his expression is more than enough to give me the resolve to say what I must, but I still wince at the prospect of his reaction.
“There's something I need to tell you,” I start to say tentatively, “about me... about-”
The words catch in my throat, and I choke back the lump, trying not to let it halt my progress. Some of my hesitation is probably due to post-coital emotional overload, but I think I have control over that now. It helped me reach this conclusion, and I don't want to waste the opportunity. His reassuring hands are also working their magic, and after a few moments I regain my composure.
“It's something I don't-” My words are cut short by a sound erupting from somewhere nearby.
It's muffled, and I'm embarrassed suddenly as I recognize the source is my phone. Even more mortifying, it's the
Imperial March from
Star Wars, and I finish my breath with a stifled gasp, “Mom!?”
So much for nobody being around...
Looking at Hisao, I realize I have two choices. Such that it's Mom calling, and I never did call her back after Amaya's tip Sunday, I can either answer it now, or wait two minutes for it to ring again. That really isn't much of a decision to make, so I shrug at Hisao and explain, “Hold on, I have to answer this.... She'll just call right back if I don't.”
“Okay,” he replies, offering a reassuring nod, “I'll be waiting.”
I believe that.
While I'm diving off the bed in search of my shorts, he rolls away and closes his eyes. It's totally unnecessary, as seeing me naked is one of the perks he can enjoy now, but still completely adorable. To placate his desire for modesty, I pick one of the other blankets off the floor, along with the shorts, and sit on the edge of the bed. As I'm fishing the phone out of my pocket, I can't help but wonder what I'm going to tell her, or whether she'll ask, or if she already knows what I've been doing.
Sometimes she just knows things...
Realizing she isn't psychic, can't possibly know what was going on, and I'm being ridiculous, I steel myself with a breath, tuck the blanket against me and press send.
“Hi, Mom!” I say cheerily, trying to sound innocent.
“Ah, I see you got your phone back finally!” she replies, making me roll my eyes.
“Yeah, she told me you called,” I say, turning a glance at Hisao, “what's up?”
“Am I interrupting anything?” she asks, making me wince.
“No, nothing!” I reply, probably a little too excitedly.
“Uh-huh,” she says, sounding less than convinced, “If you have a boy in your room, I could call back.”
She can't possibly...!
My eyes gape and I silently scream, looking at Hisao and wondering if she somehow got a camera planted in his room. Casting my eyes around to look for little red lights, I notice Hisao eying me strangely and stop. Shaking my head, I realize she's just trying to mess with me. Besides that, I'm taking entirely too long to answer, which makes denying it feel silly, but I realize I can count on her being half way across the world—she can't see where I am, at least.
“We're out for a walk,” I lie, trying to sound convincing, and keep the terrified quiver out of my voice. Hisao raises an eyebrow at hearing my lie, but nods; I imagine he doesn't want my mom to know what was happening either.
His life could be forfeit...
“Oh, well in that case I'd like to say hello,” she says brightly.
Crap on a stick!
“Um, well...” I say, stalling so I can relay her request covertly. Holding the phone with my shoulder, I sign, [She wants to talk to you,] while biting my lip and widening my eyes.
His first response is to shake his head and raise his eyebrows. [Are you kidding?]
After I throw up my hands in dismay, he closes his eyes and starts nodding slowly.
[What do I tell her?] he inquires, but I'm not sure what to tell him.
There are just too many possibilities...
“Kitten, are you there? Didn't fall asleep, did you?” Mom's saccharine voice causes me to look down at the bed and groan silently.
“Yes, still here,” I reply.
“What did you tell him? I just want to say hello.”
Yeah, right...
“Okay... hold on,” I concede reluctantly, wincing as I'm looking back at Hisao. [Just say hi.]
After handing him the phone, I watch him fumble with it nervously, then hold it up to his ear, fixing a horrified stare on me all the while. “Um, hello, Misses Kurai-Sama.”
She hates honorifics... I could have mentioned that...
Though I can only hear half the conversation, which mostly consists of simple yes or no answers, I can imagine the barrage of questions. Basically, she screens any of my male friends. Her simple hello will quickly devolve into a series of borderline improper questions about his family, their history, wealth and standing, and other things usually left for later conversations—Kenta and Tadao both got the same questionnaire.
“Uh, um... n-nothing like that, Misses Kurai, I-I wouldn't-” he stops, interrupted again.
None of the aforementioned were ever really romantically involved with her daughter, though, and I've told her Hisao and I are dating—plural—which probably makes her questions more personal. Despite what she interrupted, watching Hisao's expression shift as he faces her inquisition is almost as fun as watching it happen in person. I probably shouldn't be laughing at him, but I find myself grinning stupidly when his eyes bug out after hearing another question.
“Yes...! No... Definitely not!”
When he slides down off the bed and stands, then turns away, I frown and slap the mattress, feeling like someone stepped in front of the television during the best part of a show. Although, watching him stand there, completely naked, talking to my mom on the phone, is somewhat surreal, so I can forgive his desire to keep the conversation private. Still, I can't resist wanting to toy with him a little, so I stand and drop the blanket, then walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his chest, making sure to press myself close against his back.
“Ha- What? Sorry... I think I stepped in something,” he lies, trying to keep his composure.
With my bare chest pressing softly against his back, causing him to blush, his attempts to chase me away with his free hand are somewhat uncoordinated. After a few attempts, he stops thrashing and just tries to ignore my hands tracing along his chest, and closes his eyes to try and concentrate. No doubt he'll have a few choice words for me after their conversation is over, but I'll gladly endure that for the bright, toothy grin that won't leave my face. Having Mom find out what's going on is the last thing I want to have happen, so I don't tease him any more than I think he can handle—which means staying above the waist.
This time...
“I-I really don't know much about my grandparents,” he replies to another pressing question.
My mother would probably march down here and yell at me loud enough to blow out the windows if she had any idea about what I'm doing, either that or she'd congratulate me—she's fickle like that sometimes. That probably won't happen, though. If I'm reading their conversation right, she's basically threatening his family, and promising to rain fire down on him if he does wrong by her daughter—like inviting me over for movies and sex. It's frightening, but also sweet in a Machiavellian sort of way. His deference to her threats is probably the safest route.
When he starts turning around with his eyes closed, I surmise I'm right about the threats. “She wants to talk to you,” he says flatly, holding out the phone for me to take.
Grabbing it tentatively, I sit back down on the bed and pull the blanket over myself.
“Hi, Mom, did he pass?” I ask with a conspiratorial giggle.
“Oh, he's a delight!” she replies cheerily, “Don't tell him I said that, though. Need to keep the fear of retribution in him; it's the only way we can keep them in their place.”
Rolling my eyes, I blow out a sigh, “Right, Mom...”
While she's talking about some news with Midori—something about her winning a prize for a science fair—I observe as Hisao starts searching for his clothes. There wasn't much care taken to keep them localized, and I do start to wonder where my panties ended up, but I can figure that out later. He turns a bemused smirk at me after finding his boxers bunched up against the door, but I just shrug and pretend I'm paying attention to Mom's rambling.
“Mm-hmm,” I say absently, not even sure what I'm agreeing with.
“Are you even listening?” she asks, the piercing quality of her voice making me pull the phone away from my ear.
How does she always know...?
“Yes, Mom,” I reply, wincing at Hisao.
“Good. As I was saying; I have news about our visit,” she says, and that piques my interest.
“You're still coming, right?” I ask, my question making Hisao perk his ears toward me.
“Of course, dear! That's what I wanted to tell you; we'll be boarding a flight tomorrow night,” she explains, making me blink in confusion a few times, “We should be checked in at the hotel by Thursday afternoon!”
It takes a moment for it to sink in, but I smile brightly when I realize what she means. “You're heading here early?” I ask tentatively. Hearing my hopeful inquiry, Hisao smiles and walks over, looking interested, if not excited.
He did say he wanted to meet them...
“Precisely!” she beams, “I'll be renting a car, so I can pick you up and take you out for a belated birthday dinner. I was thinking Friday. You can bring along whoever will fit in the car.”
“Great!” I shout a little too loudly. Regaining control of my volume, I ask for confirmation, “Friday night, then?”
“I'll call you with details after we get settled and nap away the jet-lag,” she replies.
“Okay, I'll keep my phone with me, then... in case I'm in class when you call.”
“Don't get caught,” she advises.
“Don't worry, I'll put it on vibrate. Finals are over, and Ito's usually cool about it anyway,” as I'm saying that, I remember he's not my only teacher, but I don't think any of them will really mind this week.
Except Miyagi, maybe...
After laying that bit of news on me, she starts asking about finals, how well I've been eating, whether I've been sleeping, and all the typical questions of motherly concern. Some I can answer happily, but I keep my recent insomnia out of the conversation, and I'm definitely not mentioning the actual progress of my relationship with Hisao, which she seems more than eager to discover. Meanwhile, Hisao puts away the movie and starts trying to fix the crossbar in his closet, still wearing nothing but the boxers—I find myself watching him more than I'm paying attention to Mom.
“I'll see you soon, then,” she says as we're about to end the call.
“Give Midori my love,” I say, drawing a happy giggle, “and don't worry about calling.”
“Alright, alright... give your boyfriend a kiss for me,” she says sweetly, making me blush.
I'll do more than that...
“Will do... and Mom,” I pause, turning my eyes toward Hisao. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Kitten,” she replies, and I'm too busy watching Hisao to hear the line cut.
[I love you, too,] he replies in sign, making me smirk.
Unabashed, I toss the phone on the bed, stand up, and drop the blanket again, which causes him to blush and try looking away. After a fifteen-minute, uncomfortable phone conversation with my mom, I'm not going to take that as a response. Walking up close, I wrap him in a hug, and squeeze him tightly as I whisper, “Thanks for being you.”
A lesser man would have crumbled against her inquisition...
After a few seconds, he wraps his arms around me and replies, “No problem, uh...”
The nervous tone in his voice makes me look up at him and grin. “Just wanted to hug you—don't get too excited,” I assure him before dipping back down again, and listening to his heartbeat quicken.
“Trying not to,” he replies, still sounding unconvinced, “but it's ha- err.. difficult... with you being-”
“Naked?” I prompt, proceeding to squeeze him tighter, “You'll just have to get used to that—you'll be seeing a lot of it.”
Instead of saying anything, he just nods and starts rocking us side to side. After a few moments, I release him and lean back, looking up to see him closing his eyes again.
“You're allowed to look,” I chide, to which he shakes his head.
“Temptress,” he retorts, “Kenta tried to warn me...”
Turning away, I crouch down to pick up my shorts and move over to sit on the bed. While I'm pulling them on, I mention, “Kenta never saw me naked.”
That makes him laugh, but now that I've left him standing there, he has a moment to think. “You were saying something before she called...” he remarks, trailing off and turning away while I'm standing to button the shorts. “Sounded important,” he adds, and I start to nod, but I think I want to hold it back for a little longer.
Not that I don't want to tell him anymore, but I think if I can get some perspective from Mom beforehand, it'll make me more comfortable. “It can wait,” I say tentatively, “it is important, and I don't want to hide it anymore, but... I want to ask Mom something first... if that's okay?”
“Couldn't ask on the phone?” he quips, but I'm prepared for that.
“It's private, and-” stopping myself, I realize I'm being a little shifty, so I rephrase. “It's a big deal, and hard for me to talk about, so... just... be patient?” There's a tinge of guilt in my voice that he can probably hear, but I'm being honest, at least. This really is hard for me to talk about, and I'm not holding it back so much as delaying the release. I have every intention of telling him regardless of what Mom says, if she even has any advice to offer.
I hope he understands that...
“Okay, say no more,” he replies, furrowing his brow as he nods, “can you put your top on so I can open my eyes?”
Right... back to that...
“I love that one-track mind of yours,” I reply, turning to start looking for my shirt.
After finding it hiding behind his desk, I pull on my little green tank-top, and we sit down on the bed for a while, just sharing the silence of the afternoon. Today has been a series of firsts, and I feel genuinely happy for the first time in a while. We got the physical thing out of the way, and I'm inclined to further that experience at his earliest convenience, as often as possible. My indecision about whether I can trust Hisao seems to have resolved itself; his patience is proof of that. With that came the clarity I needed to see how silly I've been for keeping my secrets.
Mom's early visit couldn't have been timed better, really. With Hisao planning to leave on a train Sunday afternoon, Mom and I should have plenty of time to talk about how she handled Dad's news before he leaves. Then it will just be a matter of getting him alone—which I'm no longer afraid of doing—so we can talk about it properly. That leaves him with a few days to wonder what I'm not telling him, but I don't think he'll mind that so much once he learns the truth.
It's a big secret, and worthy of consideration...
The rest of the day lazes by as we sit and talk about what he should probably try to be aware of when facing Mom—and Midori for that matter. It feels a little wrong giving him a cheat sheet, but I really want them to like him, and I'd rather not send him in blindly. In my imaginings, I've always thought Dad would approve of Hisao, but Mom can be fickle, and prone to sudden changes of heart. The chipper tone in her voice after their brief discussion hinted that she really did like him, but I don't want to take any chances—first impressions are important.
Friday should prove interesting...
____________________________________________________________
Previous|
Part 1|
Next Chapter
This spoiler isn't really a spoiler since the non-spoiler-tagged spoiler spoiled the whole thing anyway, but I don't want to spoil it for people who read backwards.
So that just happened. Sort of knew it was going to a LONG time ago, but there were all these plot things standing in the way--imagine that. All I'll really say is that trying to keep the perception right, and not get lost in ridiculous scenarios, meant a lot of rewrites. There have been scattered portions of their consummation scene floating on the edges of my notes since before Act 3. Hopefully, it hits the right timbre for Aiko's internal monologue, and doesn't seem farcical--I tried to portray it with a bit of realism rather than fantasy.
Guesses for the movie should be interesting.[/spoiler]
Proud member of Polish Route - group that translated Katawa Shoujo to Polish. Full translation released!
