On Understandings

[TheHivemind]

I promise I'll get back to work writing the actual game eventually.

Really! I promise! Just had to get this out of my system first.

Understandings

It's not something we tend to talk about a lot. We simply don't feel the need to, I guess. It's not like I've ever been especially talented at expressing myself to begin with—I can show emotion, of course, but putting that emotion into words is not a skill that I possess. I don't have the vocabulary. She, on the other hand, has the vocabulary, so I know there's some other reason she doesn't talk about this. Then again, for all I know she does talk about it, but in some way I haven't figured out yet.

I can still remember the first time it happened, as clearly as if it were yesterday. She'd been painting all day, pouring her heart and soul into her work, and it hadn't come out right. She was sitting on the floor and slumped forward in defeat. I think it was the first time I've ever seen her close to tears, the frustration evident on her features (I can't help but wonder if it was my doing that confused matters, she tells me that I bring her back to earth and I don't know if that's a good thing or not), and so I did what any good friend would do.

I gave her a hug—not a hug from behind, like I usually do (hanging off of her back, somehow she keeps her balance and supports me at the same time, surprisingly strong for someone so thin (was I trying to avoid this exact situation? Did I know what would happen?)), but a real hug, letting her rest her head on my shoulder and whispering that she shouldn't give up, she'll get it eventually, because I know she's that good. She stiffens slightly at the contact, unused to being this close, unable to return the embrace. Her skin warmed at my touch (as it always has, I wonder why I never noticed that before) and suddenly she was nuzzling her chin over my shoulder, the only way she could think of to return the embrace. It tickled, I squirmed, lost my balance, and suddenly, where before I was supporting her, holding her up and close, she's supporting me, only she doesn't have arms to brace herself with (but I feel her stomach tense with the effort, straining to keep us upright, her legs hooked behind my knees as a brace, and I revel in the feel of her muscles shifting, only I'm not supposed to be reveling in this, it's all going wrong) and we can't stop it and we're flat on the floor and I'm on top of her. I'd managed to get my hand behind her head as we fell, so she wouldn't hit it on the floor, and I almost catch myself, one arm on the floor, the other behind her head, and all I can see is her eyes boring into mine and suddenly I get the feeling that she knows.

She knows what I didn't even know until that moment (“Your eyes told me,” she said later on), and for a moment my chest tightens in panic. Except there's a sort of half-grin, an expectant look, but God, she's so frightened right now, because here's this invitation and what if I don't take it? I don't know how I saw all that, but I suppose my eyes weren't the only ones telling secrets. The next few seconds seem agonizingly long, as I try to figure out what to do, only I don't have the slightest clue but she's so beautiful and those eyes and that hair on my arm and that's when I lower my face to hers and accept her invitation.

Her eyes widen, shocked at this turn of events, but there's relief there too, like something we've both had growing has finally been let loose. She smells like paint, but she tastes like something else, noodles and coffee (when has that ever been a good combination before? I can't seem to get enough of it now, so long as it's from her)--and there must be something to me she likes too, because I can feel her tasting my lips too, only now we're both trying to taste each other's lips at the same time, and it's not working so well because we're in each other's way, so we vie for control and that only makes the feeling in my chest expand, travel down and up my body until I realize that I can't breathe and we break apart, panting.

Realization of what I've done grabs me and I sit back on my haunches, ignoring the feel of plastic digging into my legs, because what did I just do to her? I'm stammering an apology, trying to explain myself, but that's before she gives a nudge with her legs and topples me back on top of her, then I feel her legs intertwining with mine and she pushes, bringing us together, bringing contact in an entirely new area, a low area that makes us both gasp (I'm worried now, what if I can't stop? Will it matter? Do I care? I can't think, all I can think of is what that contact feels like) and I find myself wrapping my arms around her again, despite my intent (I should get off of her, we shouldn't do this, it's not right (I don't care, I need her)) and our lips meet again; a spasm jolts me forward andohgodwe'verubbedagainbelowhowhowhowdidInotdothisearlier? Her mouth breaks contact and re-establishes it where my neck meets my shoulder and this time I can't suppress the noise that rips out of my throat, high and girlish and uncaring of who hears it.

We were so clumsy that first time, so dizzy with the newness of it all, it took forever for me to work up the courage to move my hand from her back to her front, up under her sweater, beginning a rocking motion that she matched, and suddenly I've lost track of time but I cup her breast and she makes a noise that's deeper than mine, resonating into my skin as she presses her lips to my neck andtherockingkeepsgoingandgoingandgoing but it's not enough. Too much separates us even now, and she's looking at me curiously as I pull back to peel off my shirt, damp with sweat and now she gets the idea, but before I can remove her shirt she's sat up too (how did she move so quickly, I never knew) and her mouth's drawing my nipple into her mouth and I try desperately to bite back another cry.

She laughs, then. It's not a laugh I've ever heard before, and it hits me that she's reveling in her ability to cause this reaction in me, reveling in the fact that I won't be able to think of anyone but her after this is all over, and now I know I've got to do the exact same thing to herrrrrrrrrrrnggghGOD.

I won't be defeated that easily, and while she's busy at my breast I do something I know she can't do, and dip my hand under her belt, bypassing the panties, and I can feel her hair, curly and surprisingly soft, and I can feel how much she's losing control and how much I'm losing control. I circle her with my finger, and she whimpers and unconsciously bites. I fall in by accident. She bucks, sliding a leg between mine, and I keep exploring (I know what I'm doing, I've done it to myself before in bed, sometimes thinking of her) her but I can't help it, I need it too, and I pull my fingers out and grind into her with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed, and we hit the floor again, only I've slid up now, so she's still level with my chest, tracing circles with her tongue.

The world slows down, everything becomes incredibly clear (it's almost like when I'm running only never like this, not this clear) as I stand on the precipice with her, and I bring myself back down so we're level with one another again. It's an unspoken agreement—together, or not at all. I still haven't seen her breasts (and I so desperately want to, need to) so I nearly rip her sweater over her head, caught briefly off guard by the fact that she's not wearing a bra but that's just fine.

Her pants are the next to go, I'm like an animal, tearing at her to get a glimpse at what I've only felt, and when she makes a whining noise and says that it's not fair (but only half-serious, because she's still who she is, even with her bared breasts heaving, the sweat rolling down her stomach, the patch of red hair between her legs, her pupils dilated) I know that my own shorts are going to come off too. The air of the room hits between my legs and drives me to new levels of madness, and as we embrace there, and I feel her breasts pushing into mine, dominating my smaller chest with her larger one, the nipples brushing together I know we don't have much time beforetimerunsoutforusbothatthesamemoment.

I call her name as she calls mine, the echoes of our cries must be echoing down the hallway, but nothingnothingnothing matters now. Everything tenses and we dive into one another, I wrap her in my arms as our bodies arch, my hands ball into fists as I feel my body jerking crazily, lost in the throes of pleasure, out of control, out of breath, out of my mind.

For a long time, we don't move. I remain sprawled on top of her, relishing the contact, relishing the feel of her breathing against me. I can't speak. Neither can she.

It's like a spell breaking. We both back off of one another, and laughingly gather our clothes. I find my shirt's landed in some paint, so I settle for finding my bra and putting it on. I help her dress, we joke about the oddness of helping her back into something I just ripped off her, and between the two of us we manage to stand, both of us feeling shaky and drained.

We stumble back to our rooms then, and before we go our separate ways there's a parting kiss, and the next day at lunch we're back to normal, for the most part.

Except for days like today, when I'm once again feeling her tongue explore me (in the privacy of my own room this time, our foray on the art room floor was not an experience we wished to repeat) while I do exploring of my own, each of us trying to make the other break first (though we'll wind up breaking together, we're too stubborn to lose).

I don't know why we never say anything about these encounters. I don't know why some days I go to her room and we chat or watch television and other days I go to her room and we wind up writhing on her bed.

I don't need to know. She doesn't need to know either.

Today, after I've called her name until my throat is sore, after we've collapsed and I'm holding her and kissing her tiredly, I tell her I love her. She knows, she says. And I know she loves me—not because she says it afterwards, but because her eyes already told me.

[Penguinmayhem]

Awesomeness.

Also, PARENTHESES!

[Envy]

Cute, it had some nices ideas in it but I had bit of a problem with the sentence length.

Lack of fullstops, clear starts and finishes, threw me off a little bit. So do so many bracketed diversions of thought.

One other thing, the word `I` seemed a bit tired by the end. I understand why you left out names but perhaps adding them in near the end would add a slightly more personal level and releave the `I` a bit.

Otherwise, I liked it.

EDIT: Wait, not the `I`. I mean `her`. She wouldn`t say her own name in reference to herself.

[TheHivemind]

Cute, it had some nices ideas in it but I had bit of a problem with the sentence length.

Lack of fullstops, clear starts and finishes, threw me off a little bit. So do so many bracketed diversions of thought.

That's just the way I write this sort of stream-of-consciousness stuff, to be honest. It's a matter of realism, I guess: I rarely think in complete and orderly sentences, and the jumbling of thought is just the sort of thing I'd expect to see in this sort of a situation.

[cpl_crud]

I'm starting to wonder why we even bothered creating a Main Character...

[Penguinmayhem]

I'm starting to wonder why we even bothered creating a Main Character...

Because creating an H-game about a bunch of gay schoolgirls would be boring? I dunno. Hey, just because Hisao's here, doesn't mean we can't possibly pair people up in alternate ending paths.

[cpl_crud]

Hmmm...

Good end for Rin path: Hisao dies, Rin X Emi end.

Good end for Emi path: Hisao dies, Emi X Rin end.

Good end for Lilly: Hisao dies, Lilly X Hanako end.

Good end for Hanako: Hanako Kills Hisao, Lilly X Hanako end.

Good end for Shizune: Misha returns from the dead, scarse Hisao to death, Shizune X Misha end.


You're right! That make for much better story telling!

[Envy]

Good end for Lilly: Hisao dies, Lilly X Niji end.

Fix`d

[TheHivemind]

I'm starting to wonder why we even bothered creating a Main Character...

Because while it's fun and all to write about Emi and Rin knocking boots, the traditionalist in me wants to write some straight romance as well?

Like I said, this story was a break for me. Hisao will get his, so to speak, in the game. Doesn't mean he has to be the only one getting any tail (besides, Emi and Rin are adorable together).