An Afternoon Wasted

[WetCrate]

Was supposed to be doing work; couldn't concentrate, whipped this up instead.

Just a few scenes I had floating around in my head. Not really stories, and not any good. A lot of proper nouns, not enough pronouns. Don't want to take the time to fix it. Figured I'd post here for masochism.

-----

Rin flopped onto her bed with an audible squeak from the cheap, metal frame. “Tired.” Her voice filled the small room, to which she and her boyfriend had just returned after a long evening of painting. The telling odor of oil-based paint clung to their clothes relentlessly, following that space like smoke from a fire.

Hisao wrinkled his nose at the odor, then glanced to his girlfriend. Red hair splayed out onto the disheveled sheets, longer than usual. "You growing your hair out?"

In response, she shook her head. "Too busy for cutting hairs." Rin’s dark green uniform pants ended a few centimeters above once-white ankle socks, worn and ratty from constant removal and re-donning Hisao’s eyes lingered perhaps too long on the thin sliver of skin he could see there, exposed as the fabric of her trousers bunched about knees aching from overuse.

“Back rub.” Hisao took a moment to piece together her words, muffled as they were by linen. Rin wiggled slightly, positioning her body in the middle of the mattress, and waggled her shoulders expectantly. The boy could almost see Rin’s flat stare, hopeful and knowing at the same time.

Smiling slightly: “Aren’t you worried about inviting a boy onto your bed?” Nevertheless, Hisao took the few steps across the room and knelt onto the mattress, exciting more groans from the bedframe.

“Very.”

“Oh, really?” Hands moved to shoulders draped lightly in a white dress shirt, started to rub lightly. “So you wouldn’t be surprised if I tried to take advantage of you?”

“Nope.” Rin grunted softly as Hisao dug his fingers into soft flesh, started rubbing at the tense muscles underneath. “But you won’t.”

Slightly irked, Hisao nevertheless kept rubbing. Rin’s shoulders were stiff, improbably so given the fact that she had so little call to exercise them. An involuntary glance at shirtsleeves, tied into knots as always. But perching atop a thin, wooden stool and painting with her feet must have been hard on her back, so Hisao gave it little thought.

Fingers worked slowly, massaging sore tissue, deftly working muscle back and forth. Hisao said nothing as he worked, and Rin offered no cure for the silence infecting her room. That was the way of their relationship, most days: quietly enjoying each other's company, confident in the strength of their relationship. Many times, words just got in the way.

Instead, Hisao focused on the feel of his girlfriend underneath his fingertips. Still concentrating on her shoulders, he placed his thumb squarely in the meat below her neck, wrapped his fingers around to rest against her collarbone, and pushed sharply. Rin let out another grunt, but did not stir, even as the man sitting next to her continued to apply insistent pressure. Hisao worked against a hard knot, rubbing firmly but gently back and forth across the sore spot, attempting to relieve whatever physiological phenomenon that caused such spots.

Rin’s back was warm, much warmer than Hisao could have imagined, once upon a time. He moved his thumb slightly, re-gripped and pushed his thumb back into Rin’s back. His own body couldn’t have been so warm, certainly wasn’t as soft. Thumb joint complaining slightly, Hisao turned his efforts to the other shoulder, giving his left hand a workout for a moment. Eyes traced the nape of Rin’s neck, peeking as it was from behind a forest of silken, red hair -- his right hand twitched with a sudden urge to caress that surprisingly pale skin.

Hisao paused momentarily as he felt Rin’s bra strap slide away from his grip, suddenly reminded just how thin her shirt was. The room seemed warmer.

Delving back into the massage, as if to stave off impure thoughts, Hisao brought both hands to the middle of his patient’s back and began to stroke the muscles on either side of her spine firmly. Above the bra. Well above the bra.

How could girls be so soft? The skin on her back was the same as Hisao’s -- made of the same basic stuff, performing the same job. As Hisao moved now-trembling fingers from one spot to another, he could almost see her skin snap back into place -- slightly elastic, marked red where he had laid his fingers. Hisao had to swallow heavily.

Again, Hisao’s eyes found themselves drawn to Rin’s neck. It would be so simple to reach and run a hand up, into her hair, to stroke that soft, white canvas gently, to revel in the silky-smooth sensation of his girlfriend’s body. Digits rubbed diligently, ignoring the battle between Hisao’s ears. Muscles began to loosen beneath Hisao’s touch; Rin sighed contentedly.

Then he was done with her upper back, and the boy stopped, paralyzed with indecision. Should he move to her lower back, where her shirt (untucked) lay gently, mere centimeters from a tantalizingly full swell of flesh? Or should he listen to his own muscles, hands aching from even a short ten-minute massage, and stand up? It was a very rare occasion indeed that Rin let Hisao into her room; was it wrong to prolong the experience? Would his will be enough to coax tired muscles into more, strenuous labor?

“Could you get my lower back?” Rin’s still-muffled words cut through internal dialogue like a knife. Before any more doubts could manifest themselves, Hisao drew his fingers into a fist and began gently kneading fresh, rock-hard muscle groups. Again, Rin inhaled sharply, but let out a blissful sigh as Hisao worked life back into dead tissue. The room continued to heat.

Ever so slightly, the bottom of Rin’s shirt rose. Hisao paused, shifted his hands and began rubbing with his thumbs once more. Up, down, around and around -- slowly, bit by bit, he worked his way up her back. The shirt obligingly followed. Hot, sweaty hands. Eyes followed white fabric as it moved, higher and higher, across a field of green. Sweat started to bead on his forehead as he strained to catch a glimpse of pale skin.

Fingers encountered Rin’s bra, a wall of cotton, halted their march North. Eyes shot up to confirm, back down to witness defeat. White against green, but no pink. Hisao dropped his chin to his chest. Failure.

Finally winning out against carnal desires, Hisao’s fingers retreated from the battlefield of Rin’s body. The boy rubbed his hands together gently, now massaging his own sore muscles.

A voice: “What about the middle of my back?”

Dumbfounded, Hisao couldn’t respond right away. “Well, my hands are kind of tired, and your bra’s in the way, so-”

With a speed and agility that Hisao didn’t think possible, Rin launched herself upright on the bed, keeping her back to the other occupant of her room. “You can take it off if you’d like.”

Hisao blinked.

“For the back rub.” Rin raised her tragically-shortened arms, mimicking a child at bedtime. “But no peeking,” she warned in a voice Hisao had never heard her use before.

Desire and fantasy met reality as fingers closed around white cloth, began to tug upward. Skin appeared, skin he’d never had the pleasure of seeing before. That unmarked, almost white expanse of flesh grew slowly with every centimeter Hisao raised Rin’s shirt. He could feel his fingers brush the girl’s sides accidentally, felt her flinch.

Something stopped his progress. The white fabric strained against something, would not go further. Tight, close-fitting shirt refused to even stretch. “Hisao.” Rin leaned back slightly, not quite touching her boyfriend. Red hair hovered under Hisao’s nose; he could smell paint, thick and pungent, undercut by an intoxicating aroma he’d only smelled once before. “I may not have the biggest breasts, but you still have to lift the shirt over them.”

He could feel the blood rush to his face. Conscious to keep his fingers away from soft (oh so soft) skin, Hisao pushed his hands forward, lifted the shirt over his girlfriend’s breasts and across her chest. She tottered back vertical, and Hisao ached with longing for the thick scent of Rin even as her head retreated. He did not have to wait long; as the shirt worked its way up to her chin, the girl arched her back slightly and stretched her arms, giving Hisao a better angle. He had to fight the urge to bury his face in that red mop and inhale deeply.

With one final tug, the garment was in his hands, and Rin had curled forward a bit. Hisao stared at the shirt in his hands. It was his girlfriend’s shirt. He had taken off his girlfriend’s shirt. A silky, black tie peeked out from between folds of white. Hisao hadn’t even thought about her tie; but it was done, and there had been no problems.

His girlfriend’s shirt was off.

In front of him, Rin sat cross-legged, her head dipped slightly forward, all but exposed from the waist up. She’d never even worn a swimsuit in front of him before. This was the first time that Hisao had seen the shortened stumps that Rin called arms. Her shoulders extended down normally -- but just above the spot her elbows should have been, those limbs ended abruptly.

And he didn’t care. Eyes moved quickly to the incredibly smooth back, the white fabric bisecting it. Hisao dropped her shirt to the floor. There didn’t appear to be a clasp.

Again, he froze. “Uh... how do I-”

Rin’s snorting, bemused laughter cut him off mid-sentence. “Hold on.” Her back arched forward more severely, her legs butterflied apart momentarily, and Hisao realized what she was doing: she was unclasping her bra from the front.

As if to punctuate his revelation, stretched cotton slackened abruptly, sagged against Rin’s back. She shimmied to the left -- working the strap off of her shoulder -- then to the right, letting her garment drop to the bed.

In front of Hisao, a gloriously unclothed Rin. Goosebumps appeared on otherwise unmarred skin; each bone in her spine was visible, those small lumps the only decoration he could see. Then she flipped around and lay face down on the bed. “Now, then,” she muttered. Hisao could hear the small smile in her voice -- amused by his nervousness, most likely.

Before him stretched that same white canvas he’d glimpsed earlier, that work of art in and of itself that he had grown to worship without realizing. Simple kisses, stolen at lunch or after school, could not compare to the beauty that lay on that dorm room bed. Even touching it might sully Rin’s pristine body. Did he dare?

Warmer than before, somehow, and as smooth as a block of marble. Perhaps she had been carved out of marble, formed from living rock to give other artists an ideal for which to strive. Hisao’s fingers had forgotten their earlier fatigue, working in and out, up and down, responding to Rin’s grunts and sighs. Hisao worked to soften the beauty in front of him, though a voice in his head assured him that would never work.

Time passed in that small room -- hardly more than a closet, some would say -- with its two occupants connected, all but silent, atop bedsheets becoming more and more messy. Late winter winds blew gently past the window, but went unnoticed as Hisao and Rin enjoyed the feeling of each others’ bodies.

Unfortunately, Hisao’s fingers could not go on forever, and he had to withdraw aching limbs with a forlorn sigh. “Sorry,” he offered lamely, shaking cramps out of his fingers, “but I think that’s it for tonight.” A glance at Rin’s bedside clock, which read 1:53 AM. “Sorry,” he apologized with a smile, “for this morning.”

Rin said nothing for a moment, leaving Hisao to focus on the throbbing in his hands. He stood suddenly with the realization that his girlfriend was still topless on the bed. “Oh!” Turning around quickly, “Sorry! I won’t look, you can cover yourself.”

For her part, Rin snorted a short laugh but refused to move for a moment. Hisao steadfastly stared at the floor beneath him.

Finally, a small voice: “Okay.” Creaking metal. “Hisao?” she asked loudly, almost causing the boy to jump. “There’s a bathrobe in my closet. Could you grab it for me?”

Quick, nervous movements. Acutely aware of where he was and what he was doing -- and the other occupant of the room -- Hisao avoided looking at anything in particular as he shuffled across the room, peered hesitantly into the small closet and extracted her chosen item of clothing. “Here,” he said nervously, holding the robe out behind him while still staring at the closet door.

“And how do you expect me to put it on?”

More sweat appeared on Hisao’s brow. “W-What?”

“Turn around.” Hisao hesitated. “Look at me.”

One foot turned, then the other. Shoulders swiveled, hips turned. Hisao was sure he was blushing furiously. He shook with nervous energy.

Rin stood before him, a similar blush creeping across her own face. She did not appear nervous, though -- she never did. Short arms did nothing to detract from the perfect beauty standing there, staring at Hisao, resolute. He trained his eyes on Rin’s face, pointedly ignoring her bare breasts below. “Let’s go take a bath.”

----------

Yamaku’s bathing facilities were modeled after public bath houses, but smaller. No murals graced the tiled walls, but Hisao was still reminded of a great Tokyo bath house he had visited with his parents years before, while on vacation.

Of course, that hadn’t been mixed bathing. And he hadn’t had a girlfriend at the time. And he had possessed much more common sense.

At 2 AM, no one should have been awake, right? The baths closed at midnight, so even if someone were awake they wouldn’t walk in on them, right? The baths were in the basement, so no one would hear the running water, right? Rin’s arguments echoed through his skull.

“I’m nervous too, you know.” Clad only in her white terrycloth bath robe, Rin stood next to Hisao, looking in on the bath room. After being cleaned earlier, all the water had been drained from the soaking tub; still, the walls seemed to radiate heat, somehow, as if echoes of past baths were still able to fill the air with steam. “This is the first time I’ve ever bathed with a boy.”

Hisao clutched the towel around his waist, clutched Rin’s shampoo and soap to his left side. His stomach did a quick flip, then Rin turned to him. “Pull.” She nodded to her waist, where the robe was closed with a belt. Hisao hesitated; Rin blushed more deeply. “Hurry up. I’ll start to think you don’t really want to do this.”

A soft tug; her robe hit the floor. Not allowing him time to admire the view, Rin brushed past Hisao, feet slapping dully against cool tile. Impeccably toned buttocks hypnotized the boy anyway.

“Well?” A glance over one shoulder, red hair whipping over the other in bright fluorescent light.

Throbbing, Hisao hesitated again. “Um...” He fidgeted with his towel briefly, willing himself to deflate. Though with Rin standing in front of him, nude, that was not a likely prospect.

“If you don’t have an erection, Hisao, I’ll be offended.” She turned back away from him, but did not move. “Hurry up. I’m cold.”

Towel off; door closed gently behind them. Hisao glanced to one side, walked to retrieve a couple of stools from one corner. “Here,” he said softly, sliding one in front of her. He placed her basket of toiletries down beside the seat, then straightened. “I-I got you a stool.”

Full-throated laughter resounded off of bare walls. Hisao blushed, frowned, fidgeted: what was he supposed to say?

With a smile splitting her face, Rin turned, breasts bouncing from the movement. Hisao had to school his expression to keep from ogling; she didn’t seem to mind. “I love you.” The boy blinked at this abrupt statement -- the first time she’d said those words to him. “Now sit.” A toe pointed to his own stool, standing behind him. He sat.

Rin brought her knees together demurely and sat beside him. “So.” The red that covered her face and neck didn’t quite match her hair, but came close. “This is going to be hard for you -- no pun intended,” she glanced to Hisao’s crotch, “but try to bear with it.” A steadying breath, the first one Hisao had ever seen her take. “I’m going to wash you.”

Legs spread, moved to turn on the faucet. The tuft of hair Hisao had glimpsed earlier, hiding between long, toned legs, was indeed as red as the hair on Rin’s head. He’d always wondered about that.

Even if he’d wanted to refuse, Hisao was transfixed by the smooth movements of his lover. Easily, she tested the water, adjusted the cold and hot knobs, lifted the small detachable shower head out of its cradle -- all with her feet. Toes curled around a white plastic handle, brought warm water cascading down over his head. He could see each and every muscle shift under her skin as she pumped shampoo onto one foot; he watched abdominal muscles clench as she balanced expertly and flexed, rose her legs into the air to lather Hisao’s hair.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hisao wondered about the cleanliness of having one’s hair washed by feet. He squashed that voice immediately, mercilessly.

Soon, Rin was rubbing liquid soap across his back. Though her feet were calloused, hard, the pressure felt good. A sigh escaped his lips. Rin turned his stool around once more -- still blushing as deeply as Hisao was, jaw still set in determination, green eyes stern and focused -- and brought soapy feet to his chest. Those powerful toes scrubbed lightly but firmly, paused only once to trace the scar on his chest. Hisao caught a strange look in the girl’s eyes, then, but it was quickly gone.

The view -- though similar to several magazines Hisao had seen -- was far from dirty, or shameful. Legs spread in front of him, gently dragging soapy water across his body, didn’t look overtly erotic or licentious. In fact, despite the cornucopia of erotic imagery in front of him, Hisao found his gaze drawn to Rin’s face. The way her red hair swayed back and forth with her movements; her eyes, hard emerald orbs, focused and resolute; the way her nostrils flared with each breath -- all entranced Hisao more than the fact that there was a nude woman sitting not a meter away.

Hisao had finally fallen in love.

Rin turned for more soap. “I love you.” She paused, looked back to Hisao, an unspoken question on her face. “Earlier, you said it. I wanted you to know that I love you, too.”

Hisao couldn’t be sure, but as Rin turned back to continue pumping soap, she seemed almost embarrassed. “I’d hope so, since you’re letting me give you a bath.” A quick turn and she faced Hisao once more. “Or would you let any girl do this?” She raised a single eyebrow.

A broad smile bloomed on Hisao’s face, full of affection. “No. Only you.” He sighed, shook his head slightly and repeated, “Only you.”

This time, Rin did look embarrassed. She dropped her gaze to the floor and fidgeted, bringing her knees together and turning away slightly. Seizing the opportunity, Hisao lunged, grabbed his companion’s stool, and dragged toward himself. Rin’s yelp of surprise fell on deaf ears as she was spun around and hauled bodily against Hisao, her back to his chest; she felt his arms wrap around her waist. “Rin Tezuka, I love you,” he whispered, squeezing her midsection lightly.

“You said that,” she retorted awkwardly, not quite sure of what to say.

It was Hisao’s turn to laugh. “Yes,” he smiled, leaning down to retrieve the shower head, “yes I did.”

Bathing Rin was one of the strangest, most intimate experiences Hisao ever had. He watched soap and water roll back off of her head, drip down from hair that turned dark burgundy when wet. Running a gentle hand through those long locks, he allowed himself a small moment to caress the nape of Rin’s neck, which elicited a small gasp from the girl. He traced his movements from earlier, fingers kneading soap and water into her back. Where the rest of Rin’s body was toned and defined, her arms felt thin, almost useless. To her, they were useless. Hisao treated them gently, as if washing newborn babies.

Both thrilling and terrifying at once, the feeling of breasts in his hands; another small gasp as hands brushed past erect nipples, rinsed the area with warm water. Rin’s legs were perfection given form. Soft, smooth, like the rest of her body, the definition he had admired earlier not detracting from but enhancing her femininity. Down he worked, over surprisingly delicate knees, past calves for which most women would kill, to feet still speckled with paint.

Despite Rin’s dexterity, she couldn’t clean her feet as well as she should have. Strong fingers worked at paint stains, old and new, scrubbed away aches Rin hadn’t realized she had. Hisao washed and rubbed simultaneously, cradling first one foot then the other, lifting deep muscle fatigue and re-energizing exhausted digits. Rin splayed her toes, allowing Hisao to rub each toe individually.

Soon, it was done. Both teens were breathing heavily, almost panting, red-faced and nervous but content. Water dripped down into a drain somewhere, the hollow sound of droplets joining their brethren below ricocheting off of the bath room walls. Hisao placed a hand on the side of Rin’s face, gently caressing her cheek. She smiled softly, lifted her head, leaned forward to rest her forehead against her boyfriend’s.

“Hey, Hisao.” Rin’s hot breath washed over his face. Somehow, it even smelled warm.

“Yeah?”

“Hello? Is someone in there?” A voice from the changing room.

Neither of them looked. They were caught and they knew it. Hisao smiled slowly, and eventually Rin followed suit. “Hello?” Footsteps were approaching the door.

“Next time,” whispered Rin throatily, “we’ll do this at a hotel.”

Hisao’s smile widened. He heard the door open behind him. Instead of turning, he snaked a hand to the back of Rin’s head and kissed her deeply, passionately, with reckless abandon. They were in love, and no one could take that away.

[Worthington]

Started out shaky, got better. Still, the way Hisao talks about Rin puts me off a little but, it's almost as if he's deifying her. I also skimmed past the "lemony" bits, but I always do that, so don't worry. You get extra points for keeping the tie on when Hisao takes off Rin's shirt.

[Mirage_GSM]

Started out shaky, got better. Still, the way Hisao talks about Rin puts me off a little but, it's almost as if he's deifying her.

Well, men always do that when they are in love
You slipped up the perspective once towards the end:

Strong fingers worked at paint stains, old and new, scrubbed away aches Rin hadn’t realized she had.

Otherwise nice story.

[DaMan65]

Very good, I could imagine a scene playing out the same or similarly in the actual game, besides the few grammatical errors that always slip through even with the best of us.

Provided me an entertaining distraction while I sit around the house today.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone

[scott1and]

I liked it, and as said before there was a few confusing bits and grammatical errors but I just persevere anyway. Although, some bits seemed a bit too descriptive (not lemony bits they were fine) as in there's just too much going on, but I don't know if that's just me. Keep up the good work, hope to see more fictionin soon

[waynoinsano]

Should have ended with the person being to school nurse finding them then saying something along the lines of " Remember Hisao I told you not to exercise TOO vigorously." then walking out with out saying another word.

[Leotrak]

Should have ended with the person being to school nurse finding them then saying something along the lines of " Remember Hisao I told you not to exercise TOO vigorously." then walking out with out saying another word.

Great gods, this, this so much XD

*coughs* Aaaaaaaanyway... I enjoyed reading this very much ^_^ Feel free to slack off again sometime

[OneMore]

Hey, it's great!
Hope you keep writing.

[Spirit Tsunami]

You slipped up the perspective once towards the end:

Strong fingers worked at paint stains, old and new, scrubbed away aches Rin hadn’t realized she had.

Otherwise nice story.

Seems fine to me. Hisao's fingers, scrubbing Rin. Makes perfect sense.

[Helbereth]

Isn't this an evening and not an afternoon?

[Mirage_GSM]

You slipped up the perspective once towards the end:

Strong fingers worked at paint stains, old and new, scrubbed away aches Rin hadn’t realized she had.

Otherwise nice story.

Seems fine to me. Hisao's fingers, scrubbing Rin. Makes perfect sense

Yes, it does make sense.
What I meant is that this sentence is a chance in the narrative voice of the story. The story uses third person limited narrative with Hisao as the protagonist, but in this sentence the protagonist suddenly changes to Rin.

[Meadows]

Next to Shizune, Rin is my second least favorite character. Despite that, I actually enjoyed this quite a bit and thought it was rather cute.
Just work on tightening up some of the things that others have already pointed out and you'll have yourself a nice solid one-shot.

[nemz]

This is one of the sexiest bits of writting I've seen on this forum despite having no actual intercourse involved. Well done.

Rin seems a little less Rin-y then usual though. I'm suprised she isn't a bit more motormouthed if she's as nervous as she claims.