Therefore, a comment about my codes for the text this time: it's not what you're thinking, but it's still what you think.
Storycodes: emi rin
PAINT BOX
---
'This bloody SUCKS!!'
Angrily I swat a small pillow with my left foot, making it fly in a nice, flat, straight trajectory towards Emi's face. She blocks it with a practiced move right before it hits her, shielding her face for a moment. Then she lowers it, looking at me with a mixture of patience and resignation.
'Rin-chan... come on, it's not THAT bad. You'll just have to take it easy for a couple of days. I'll help you, you'll be fine.'
She lets out a sigh as she busies herself with putting away my uniform. She's right, of course, but I'm not feeling reasonable right now.
Flopping my pajamaed butt back on the bed, I raise my right leg enough to glare at my foot. The elastic bandage wrapped around it, unsurprisingly, takes the stare without showing any sign of discomfort. My twisted ankle, on the other hand, gives a twinge.
'Stupid arsehole on his idiot wheelchair, not looking where he's going...'
'Oh come ON... it was an accident, and Nakayama-san apologized. Twice. Besides, you weren't really paying attention either.'
I sulk. That's all there is to it. My ideas for the next few days are wrecked; the anticipation over the new painting I was planning is soured, I'm not going to be able to manage anything well until my foot is healed enough, and I'm excused from class. This last would be wonderful, except I won't be able to take advantage of it, getting a dose of crushing boredom instead.
I sulk, therefore I am. Or something.
'Come on, Rin-chaan~... I'll get notes and assignments for you, you'll be able to sleep all you want, and I'll come over at lunch to bring you something to eat. Okay?'
I roll over and plant my face in my pillow. 'Grmphlgrbr.'
It's better if nobody gets to know what I am saying by now, anyway. I hear another sigh from Emi, and a 'Listen, I gotta go. See you later', with a hint of annoyance mixed in. The door to my room clicks open and closed, and she's gone. I'm alone.
***
A while later, I roll over again. Damn it, it's no use. All the charge I have built up isn't going to leave me alone. I'm still angry and frustrated and can't sleep it off either. Lovely.
Well, maybe I can still manage SOMEthing after all... I sit up on the bed, then try standing.
'Ouch...'
As soon as I put weight on my sore foot, it lets me know in no uncertain terms that it doesn't like it. Gritting my teeth, I half-hobble towards my stack of art supplies.
Pencil. Sheet of paper. Floor near bed. There.
Getting all in place is a bit of an ordeal because of my injury, but it's not that bad since I have to resort to using my mouth anyway.
Smiling in grim satisfaction, I sit back down, blow an errant strand of hair away from my face, and grab the pencil...
...with my left toes. Right.
Or NOT right.
Or... something.
Several minutes later, I eye balefully the scribbles I have conjured up. They would be embarrassing for a kindergarten, nevermind as an artistic effort. Good thing I'm going to burn this freaking disgrace anyway.
With a groan, I flop back on my bed again, letting my legs dangle over the edge.
Status update: I'm frustrated, hurting, AND bored. I'm not used to this.
And far from feeling dull, I have a whole-body ticklish sensation, like... a sneeze trying to come out from all of me. Annoyed, I absently start scratching my thigh with my foot.
...
Hmmm...
Oh hell. Why not.
If nothing else, it might help me to relax.
Sitting up again, I scan my room for something appropriate to use. Fortunately, if I do not suffer from something, it is from a lack of paintbrushes.
It takes a little more time and a few swearwords to find one not smelling of turpentine or clotted with paint, but eventually I hold my prize in triumph.
Easing back on the bed - which is by now starting to get quite untidy - I shift a pillow under my hips. Finally, after a considerable amount of awkward wriggling, I let off a huff. I am now just in my pajama tops. About time.
Let's get down to business.
Grabbing the flat brush with more than a little impatience, I accidentally swipe it across my sex rather more roughly than I meant to.
Yow. Whatever *that* was, it called some of the tickle along.
More gently and carefully, I trail the brush's bristles lightly along myself.
...It feels... odd. It's a little like the tickle is moving inside my body, progressively gathering at the tip of the brush. The sensation makes me squirm, but this time not uncomfortably.
I settle down on a steady, slow rub. The tickle goes, turning into a more familiar tingle. But there's a lot of it. I can feel my lower lips becoming fuller and heavier... and the brush growing a little bit slick.
My belly starts tensing up slowly, in anticipation. I slit my eyes, and start breathing a little more deeply.
Oddly, I'm finally feeling serene and relaxed, even as my muscles start to clench. I start rubbing more roughly, as much by design as by accident.
It's good that by now the brush has become quite moist, since on its climbing stroke, this time it contacts my clit.
'Ah...!'
Little electrical sparks run through my spine, deliciously fading as they melt into my muscles. For a moment, I arch.
My pajamas are worn and soft, but right now the feeling of the cloth as it drags over my nipples is sandpapery.
It all feeds back on itself, and I want to do more and more.
And hell yes, I DO. Nothing's going to stop me.
The strokes of the brush grow more and more liquid, painting themselves over my crotch as I lose control. I don't care.
My right foot starts to sting as my toes involuntarily clench and my leg tenses, shoving the heel into the bed. I don't care.
My left leg feels like it's going to cramp forever as I narrowly avoid mashing the sopping brush inside myself. I don't care.
Somewhere along the line I started panting; now I'm nearly gnawing my lower lip clear through. I don't care.
I want this.
I close my eyes, and let myself fantasize, losing myself in a world of feeling without reality to tie up my mind.
Red warmth, little flashes of light, the bellows of my chest expanding.
What is it going to be like this time?
How would it be otherwise?
Basso of my heart, yellow spark, ticklish sweat droplets.
Is it going to be big?
Clenched jaw, shimmery cascade, squishing noise...
I WANT TO SHARE THIS WITH SOMEONE!
** *** *** ******...
...And falling down as though from a great height, I go limp on my sweaty sheets.
I wheeze and pant like I ran a marathon. As I come down from my high, I get back into ordinary, practical things.
...Like my foot. OW.
Figures. Now that I'm not climbing the walls anymore, it's going to give me hell. Ah well.
This was... different though. Somehow better than usual.
Aw damn, where has the brush gone? I'll need to get it washed...
But I want to remember the feeling while it's still fresh...
And my pajamas. Or my panties at least...
I'll just shut my eyes for a moment to visualize it while it lasts...
I need to...
...
***
*rap rap*
'Rin-chan? May I come in?'
'Hnnn?'
*KNOCK KNOCK*
'Rin-chaan~? Are you awake?'
OHCRAP!
I bite on my tongue in order to stifle my yelp of pain to a whimper as I promptly leap up and shove the incriminating items under my bed. Clothing, panties, two cushions (no time for decisions), into bed, flip sheets over me, done.
'Ah- ...yes.'
The door opens with a click, and in peeks Emi, of course. Carrying a trayful of food.
'Are you still angry?'
'Mmnnn~.' I don't have much of a sense of shame - my disability took care of that pretty quickly - and even less so with Emi, but there are limits even I do not want to cross.
'Oh, good! I got you something from the cafeteria, let's have lunch together. You must be hungry.'
'GRMPHN.' Also known as 'No, go away! PLEASE!'
Not being a mindreader, Emi walks in and closes the door behind her, of course.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I poke the top of my head and my eyes out enough to say, 'I just want to sleep, Emi. Thank you.'
'Sleep, schmeep! You always do that, and you forget to eat half the time. You need to keep your strength up!' She looks around for a place to set the tray on.
'Ah... no, really. I was edgy, so I didn't rest enough, so now I really feel sleepy. Just leave it wherever, I'll get to it later.' Please gods, that's even the truth. Mostly. Give me a break.
Emi still looks unconvinced. I give a theatrical yawn.
'Mmm~ well, okay. I'll come by to check on you later, though, and if you don't eat anything I'll REALLY get angry and call Nurse-kun on you. Deal?'
'MMM.' Meaning... well, I think everybody got the idea.
She sets the tray on a relatively uncluttered surface, and turns to leave. On the door, she stops, sniffing the air.
'...Hey, Rin-chan. Does it smell funny in here?'
Damn brush. 'Nah.'
'Hmm, okay. Seeya later!'
And after this bright declaration, my door clicks closed. I sigh, and get to the business of tidying up and eating.
-SC
