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“We've had ‘sleepovers’ a whole buncha times, Okarun,” Momo argued as she opened the front door.
He adjusted his glasses as he crossed the threshold himself, absentmindedly moving over for Jiji to come in and remove his shoes while he tried to get her to understand the problem. “But that was with your grandma sleeping just down the hall! If we do this now, we’re… “
Sleeping in the same house, just a room apart, with no one else home.
His face heated up while his brain immediately called to mind a wide array of the kind of possibilities that he usually tried to keep a lid on during waking hours.
It hadn’t been so very long since he’d started thinking of Momo as his friend, let alone someone who was most definitely a girl and maybe even… cute. And that had irreversibly opened the floodgates of thoughts about all the ways that she was cute, and that had led to thoughts that he did his absolute best to shove down into the deepest darkest recesses of his Not Thinking About That files.
He wasn't a perv. He wasn't!
And then there was Jiji, who had kicked off the whole train of thought about how cute Momo was in the first place, and who was actually kind of attractive himself, not to him obviously but objectively, to anyone, and who was his friend too. At least, he thought they might be friends - they probably were, Jiji had said they were, so -
“Okaruuun, wake up!” Momo poked him in the ribs.
“What? I’m awake,” he said, straightening up out of his slouch.
“Your ears aren’t.”
“Sorry. I’m listening now.”
“I was saying that if you do the rice and chop some veggies, I’ll do the meat and the cooking part, and Jiji can do the dishes after.”
Jiji made a goofy pose, lunging low and shooting them with his finger guns. “Awriiight! Good plan, Momo-chan! Keep me nice and toasty in the hot water.” He winced as he turned to leave the room, though, and then stuck his head back around the corner, speaking in a much more subdued tone of voice. “Agh. Haha. Maybe a hot shower first? You guys start without me.”
What was that about?
Momo scowled at Jiji’s back as he shut the washroom door behind him. “That dumbass takes all the hot water, every time!” But then she reconsidered. “I guess he needs it though. Technically.”
Okarun spoke over his shoulder as he squatted in front of the fridge, digging through the vegetables at the bottom. “He’s like a lizard or a snake now. Heh. Except instead of the cold making him sleepy, it makes Evil Eye - “
“Come out and kick all our asses!” she interrupted, clanging pots and pans onto the counter. “Yeah, I’ll take the lukewarm showers, I guess.”
They got to work in a friendly silence, throwing dinner together like they did so often now, until he opened up another plastic bag and stopped chopping. “Uh oh. Hey, Ayase-san?”
“Mm.”
“Isn’t Jiji allergic to… something? Something like this?” He held up a root.
“Huh?” She came over. “Nah, that’s just burdock root. He’s actually allergic to… no, wait - maybe.” She waved her knife through the air carelessly, talking with her hands. “Enh, go ask him. We already burned down his house. We probly shouldn’t kill him too, I guess.”
So he knocked on the washroom door and called, “Jiji?”
No answer. Clearly he couldn’t be heard over the rushing water. He thumped on the door with his palm and called, “Excuse me! Ayase-san wants to know - “
“Huh?!”
“Jiji, are you allergic to - “
“I can’t hear youuu, I’m in the showerrr!”
He hated yelling. But he had to. “Hey, Jiji!” he hollered. “We need to know - “
“Okarun, just use the other bathroom!” Jiji sounded amused.
Funny, he had no problem hearing Jiji at all. Maybe he just couldn’t make his voice carry as well as Jiji could. A difference in lung capacity, or something like that. He scrunched his face up, feeling as though he was about to be scorched like when he’d tiptoed through the torii while visiting Momo for the first time, and opened the door an inch.
No flames, but a wall of steam did blast him in the face, making his glasses fog up. “Pardon the intrusion - “
When they started to clear, he could just make out Jiji’s general shape through the frosted glass of the shower door, but not much else. Apparently he was busy washing his hair. At the sound of Okarun’s voice, though, he jumped. “Oh, shit!”
“S-sorry!” he squeaked, closing his eyes and covering his glasses for good measure. “I didn’t see anything!”
Jiji abruptly relaxed and laughed, crouching forward to dunk his head under the showerhead again. “Oh, whatever. Come in, I guess.”
“Sorry,” he repeated miserably. He felt like a creep. “I wouldn’t usually, but - “
“S’fine! You’d see more in the gym class showers, anyway. Woo!”
It was hard to deal with Jiji’s near impenetrable shell of exuberance sometimes. He was briefly sidetracked with the small rush of misery that always came with the memories of what gym class showers had been like for him over the years - pretty different from what Jiji’s memories were like, he figured - before he gathered his thoughts together. What had he barged in here for again?
Oh, right. “Ayase-san can’t remember if you’re allergic to burdock or not,” he blurted out, trying to finally get the words out as quickly as possible so he could make his escape.
“Huh?” Jiji still had trouble hearing him over the roar of the shower. Okarun was inhaling to try again when he heard Jiji hiss in a breath as well and then, very quietly, swore to himself.
He whipped his hands away from his face and took a step closer without thinking. It sounded like Jiji was in pain. “Are you okay?”
“Heh, good ‘nuff! No complaints here! Got my hot water, got… “ He dropped the act and turned his head to peer at him through the blurry glass. “Well. Maybe not. I got this scrape that hurts like crazy.”
They’d all come away from the fights, plural, with Evil Eye with scrapes and bruises. This one sounded especially bad if it was still affecting him this long afterward. “There should be disinfectant and gauze in the first aid kit. Here, I’ll get it down for you.”
“I can’t reach it, though. The scrape, I mean. It’s in the middle of my back,” Jiji said, sounding embarrassed. It was rare for him to sound that way. “Think it might be infected.”
“Oh no,” he said politely. “Well, I’ll get the first aid kit, and you can - “
“Think you could look at it for me?” Jiji asked meekly. He sounded like a completely different person without the high energy and high volume to go with it. “It really hurts.”
Jiji was supposed to be tough! He’d hauled Okarun and Momo around like sacks of potatoes and taken beating after beating. Was this some new bit he was trying?
“Please?” Jiji prompted. He sounded genuine.
“O-okay, I’ll take a look at it, I guess.” He shed his clothes, folding them neatly in equal sized squares, and averted his eyes as he stepped inside. Not that he’d be able to see much, anyway, since he’d set his glasses down beside the sink.
“Oh, uh. I meant when I was outta here and had my pants on again. Heh. Don't matter though! You're already in.”
He had only a second or two to sit in the shame of his mistake. He opened his mouth to apologize but yelped instead as the water sprayed his feet, then skipped to the back and out of reach as soon as he could. Jiji liked it hot in there. “Jiji, you’re cooking yourself.”
“Woo! Add me to the menu!” Jiji hooted, his back to him. “Spicy, spicy. Feels good, though. And, like, better safe than sorry, right? So, here’s a cloth - “
Okarun took it, feeling off-balance from how quickly Jiji got to business. He must be serious about this scrape. Maybe Jiji’d even been thinking about how to ask for help with it for a while.
That just firmed his resolve, of course. He had no choice but to help now. He took the soggy washcloth and squinted at the expanse of back a foot or two away from his face. Even with his terrible eyesight, it didn’t take long to spot it. The sight of it made sympathy pains prick at him. “Oooh, that looks pretty bad.”
“Hurts,” he agreed. “I keep getting soap on it and rinsing it off every day. You know. Keepin’ it clean, like you’re s’posed to. But I can’t see the darn thing.”
Jiji was so much taller and broader than him that his body effectively blocked the spray from touching Okarun. Like putting a mountain between yourself and a rainstorm. Even now, after a minute or two in the shower, he was practically dry. He leaned closer to get a better look and lifted the cloth, pointedly keeping his gaze well above the waist.
“Well, it’s closed up but it’s all puffy and red. It looks infected, like you said,” he reported. “I think I’m going to have to open it up again to clean it out properly.”
Jiji nodded and hung his head, resigned to his fate. He sighed and planted his hands on the front wall of the shower, bracing himself. “Okay, Doctor Okarun! I’m in your hands.”
He took the time to wash his hands thoroughly with body wash as though disinfecting them before surgery - might as well play the part - and gently prodded at the angry red scrape with his fingertips and washcloth. It took more force than he expected, and a little whimpering from Jiji, but eventually he was able to wash out a good amount of pus and discoloured blood.
“That was nasty!” he said, grinning. He settled his left hand on Jiji’s shoulder while he rinsed the last of the gunk from his right. “Felt like you had sand in there or something. You’re lucky I’m not squeamish about stuff like that.”
“I am!” Jiji said emphatically. “I can't handle gore or stuff like that at all…” He trailed off.
Was he leaning into Okarun's hand?
Nah. Jiji’s hands were still firmly resting on either side of the showerhead. There was no reason for him to need Okarun to hold him up.
He was getting used to the sauna-like heat and the thick steam in his lungs. At home he was a bath guy, and of course he only had quick, utilitarian showers in gym class, but he was starting to see how someone could like this. Not so different from a hot spring, really. He breathed in, nice and deep, and let his eyes flutter shut.
“Thanks, man,” Jiji said, his voice sincere. “Feels way better already. You’re a good guy.”
“What? That was nothing,” he murmured. “Don’t thank me.”
“No, seriously! And now I get a shoulder rub, too? You da best!”
Uh oh. His eyes flew open.
He’d gotten a little too comfortable. Instead of keeping his distance from his very attractive, very naked friend, he’d stepped even closer. And instead of keeping his hands to himself except when medically necessary, he’d left them on Jiji’s back. And then he’d started… squeezing his muscles.
“O-oh, ha! Ha ha! Sorry, Jiji! I g-got carried away!” He made a hasty getaway, opening the shower door with enough force to make it rebound back at him, and stumbled out, only narrowly avoiding falling on his own face. “See you in the kitchen - “
He scrabbled for his glasses, already mentally formulating excuses in the off chance he might need them, when he finally noticed a crucial detail. “Jiji? Where’s the towel… ?”
“Isn’t it just on the rack there? It’s right… oh.”
There was no towel.
This was bad.
It wasn’t ideal to have to put dry clothes on over your wet body, obviously, but he had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that the yokai taking up residence within Jiji’s body was drawn out by cold water. And the fact that hot water soon turned to cold without a towel to dry it off first.
A tiny corner of his mind was also preoccupied over modesty, and keeping his eyes averted from all of Jiji while also at least making an attempt to cover himself, while also thinking of poor unsuspecting Momo out there, completely unprepared for the increasingly high likelihood of two soaking wet, fully naked guys about to charge through her house at high speed.
His brain had come to the only logical solution. One look in Jiji’s eyes confirmed that he had accepted it too.
Safety beat modesty. They would have to run for it.
They each scooped up their clothes, still awkwardly trying to avoid flashing each other, and hightailed it out of the washroom and down the hallway as stealthily as they could.
“The guest room!” Jiji hissed over his shoulder. “Our futons - “
Were nowhere in sight. Momo had picked a hell of a time to air them out outside.
“Nooo!” Jiji half whispered, half wailed, while he danced in place and searched frantically for something that could act as a towel.
Rivulets of water cascaded down Jiji’s back and legs, and droplets flew from his wet hair with every step he took. How long would it take for water hot from the shower to cool enough to trigger the transformation? Room temperature soy sauce had been enough to tip the scale in the past. Jiji had come so far with his training since then, but…
Every second that ticked by was putting all of their lives in danger, not to mention Momo’s newly repaired house. This was no time for gutless half measures. He hooked Jiji’s arm in his and hauled him into Momo’s room down the hall, then flung him into her soft, girly bed. He joined him a split second later, nearly kneeing him in the process, and sealed them both in under the pink covers, head to toe, like sardines in a can.
“Did we make it?!” he panted.
Jiji held his breath for a long moment, as still as a corpse, and then let it out slowly. His eyes could just barely be made out, gleaming in the dark. “Made it.”
He swallowed thickly. “Thank god. That was way too close.”
“She's gonna kill usss, heehee…”
“Why the heck do you sound so happy at the idea?” Okarun demanded. “It's only your hair now that's really an issue. As soon as it’s dry enough that it can't drip cold water down your back, we can get dressed again and sneak back to the kitchen. She might not even find out we were in here.”
Jiji turned to look at him in the dark beneath the covers and laughed, his breath briefly warming Okarun's face. “Because she's cute when she's mad! Duh.”
Despite how cheerful Jiji sounded, Okarun’s heart sank into his gut. Some part of him had been dreading this topic for a while now, and today might be the day it was finally hashed out to its natural conclusion.
After all the hugs and holding hands and walking home together, whether Jiji was present or not, he was finally starting to guess with some degree of certainty that Momo's feelings matched his.
It was a good thing! It was an incredible thing. He still couldn’t really fathom it. But it also meant that he'd soon have to see his friend get his heart broken.
“Yeah. She's cute no matter what,” he agreed, mechanically. He curled up on his side under the covers, starting to feel sick to his stomach out of pity for Jiji, but then squawked and flailed as he nearly fell right out of bed.
Jiji darted his arm out just in time and reeled him in until Okarun's forehead pressed against his chest, tucked beneath his chin. “Woo! Lookout! I gotcha, buddy.”
Had Jiji always been so cuddly? Maybe. It was getting hard to think in the stifling heat under the covers. He stuck his head out to catch his breath and readjusted his leg between Jiji's knees to keep himself from falling out again, then roughly towelled Jiji's hair with the covers.
Jiji popped his head out to catch his breath too. “Ahhh… fwesh air for my widdle lungs.” He flashed him a grin and thumped his head back down next to his on the pillow. “Okay, but. How mad you think she'll get? Growling for sure. She's a growler. And at least a fifty-fifty chance we'll get smacked, I’d say.”
Even though he wasn't as willing to admit it out loud as Jiji was, he did think she was extremely cute when she was mad too. The mental image of her stomping around her room, irritated with the both of them, made it hard for him to focus on the threat of the Evil Eye, or Jiji’s feelings, or even on the sensation of Jiji's arm around the bare skin of his waist as he kept him from rolling out.
Picturing Momo's face was simply too tempting. He let himself forget all about his collection of worries and pictured her in detail, smiling fondly. “She might even be mad enough to take away all of our meat from dinner. She'll just keep it and eat it herself, since Turbo Granny's not here to fight her for it.”
“Aww, she can have it! I'd go hungry to make Momo-chan happy.”
There was that dreaded discussion looming again. “Have you ever… told her how much you like her?”
“Course! I tell her, like, every day. Actually, I gotta work on that with you!” Jiji locked eyes with him and batted his eyelashes. “Youse a cutie too, Okawoon!” And then, fast enough to give him whiplash, he added in his normal tone of voice, “Honesty is the best policy.”
This was not going the way he'd thought it would. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”
“I mean it, silly. Sometimes, when you’re thinkin’ hard about aliens or something like that, you look so intense. You make me wanna just… you know… ” Jiji trailed off, smiling at him, with his eyes nearly closed.
His heart was thudding hard, staccato, like it wanted out of his chest as badly as he had wanted out of this conversation just a few seconds ago. “No, I have no idea!”
But he desperately wanted to know.
Jiji’s hands were warm on his waist and now, under the covers, his upper arm, too. Without sparing a thought, he relaxed his body so he could move closer, glancing back and forth between Jiji’s eyes and his mouth. Was Jiji really about to… ?
And did he want him to?
Okay, maybe he did want him to. No, he definitely wanted him to. But was it okay that he wanted him to?
Jiji sighed softly, the picture of contentment with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted, and leaned forward to close the last of the distance between them.
“Why the hell’re you in my bed?!”
The next thing he knew, the stifling heat was gone. The covers were ripped away, plunging his body into the icy cold air, and then Jiji shoved him away at lightning speed in order to cover himself.
He crashed to the floor, gawping up at the long awaited scowl that Momo was now giving him while looming over him. Her duvet was twisted tightly in both of her ghostly hands, stretched high above her head and shaking with fury just as much as her real ones were.
“And why are you both naked?!”
What had seemed like such a logical decision ten minutes ago was inexplicable now. “Jiji needed me to - he was dripping, so - “ he stammered, his face on fire.
Jiji, hunched over on the bed with his knees up, removed one of the hands covering his crotch so he could give her a single finger gun. “No other way to keep me warm! No futons! No towels! Only Okarun’s tender loving embrace!” he announced with a manic grin.
A century too late, the sight of Jiji made him finally remember that he was indecent himself. All he could do was curl into a ball like a bug.
Momo’s face twisted into an expression worthy of a yakuza boss about to deliver the beating of a lifetime to an underperforming underling. “You dumbasses really thought you could fool around in my bed, huh? While soaking wet? While I made dinner all by myself?” She curled her lip and cracked her knuckles, coming closer, and he saw his life flash before his eyes. “Time to die.”
Was it a good thing that they were interrupted in the nick of time, or a bad thing?
With nightmarish clarity, they each heard the front door at the other end of the house judder open as Turbo Granny and Momo’s grandma came home unexpectedly early. Without uttering a word, they came to a truce.
—--
Dinner was burdock-free but awkward, to the point that Momo’s grandma asked if they’d had some kind of a spat. After stammering and making up excuses, Jiji engineered an outburst between Turbo Granny and Momo over the latter’s cooking skills. To her credit, Momo immediately caught on to what he was trying to do and allowed her, truthfully, more than adequate cooking to be slandered for the sake of the distraction. By the time he and Jiji had washed and dried the dishes, Turbo Granny and Momo’s grandma were cackling over something on the TV in the living room, and the three of them were able to slink away to Momo’s room upstairs without calling too much attention to themselves.
Obviously he wasn’t really going to get off that easy. How naive of him to think so. Momo only just barely gave Jiji enough time to clear the door of her room before she slammed it shut with her foot, making him yelp. “Siddown,” she snarled.
They did her one better and knelt instead of sitting, then lowered their foreheads to the floor to grovel.
Okarun was, in fact, starting to allow anxiety to get the better of him. Usually, outside of fights, she vented her anger in a brief but showy fireball, then returned to a more or less even keel until the next affront. Easy come, easy go. That’s what made her so fun to watch. This longer term seething was new to him.
With his eyes still glued to the floor, he could hear and feel her pacing back and forth a foot or two away. “So… seriously? All that was just to keep Jiji dry?”
He let himself relax, just a little. She already sounded a lot more reasonable than she had just before dinner. “Yes!” he barked. “Strictly to keep the Evil Eye at bay, and nothing more!”
She gave him a little kick upside the head, just enough to sting. So much for being reasonable. “In my bed. While you had a pile of his clothes on the floor next to you.”
Jiji had known her a lot longer. Maybe that explained how he knew just the right approach for this kind of situation. “We’re very sorry, Momo-chan! We’re dumb, and we panicked! It won’t happen again!”
They heard her sigh noisily. “Tch. Fine. Get up.”
He did not miss the wink Jiji gave him while her back was turned. The three of them messed around like they usually did while they got ready for bed, taking turns in the washroom down the hall from Momo’s bedroom to brush their teeth and change into their pajamas. He could have sworn things had gone back to the way they’d been before, all the way up until he and Jiji wished her goodnight and opened her bedroom door to leave.
She was able to look them in the eye, but her face looked a little pinker than usual. “You guys wanna spread your futons out in here? I brought ‘em in from outside and put them in the guest room, but. Probly comfier on my soft rug here than on the tatami in there.”
Hmm. This was new.
He and Jiji glanced down at their feet, both of them scuffing the rug with their toes. It was a pretty thin rug. Almost as thin as her excuse.
The time for contrition was past. Jiji shot him a knowing look. “Momo-chan, aren’t you worried we’ll kick you out of your precious bed?”
“Your bed’s a lot comfier than this rug, Ayase-san,” he agreed.
Jiji had the most infuriating grin on his face, and it wasn’t even directed at him. “Okarun, she ever tell you she used to be scared of the dark? Like, way past when you’re s’posed to be. I think she wants us in here as bodyguards.”
“Oh my god, shut up, I was not,” she spluttered. “I take it back, get the hell out! Enjoy the floor, morons!”
It was fun to be the teaser instead of the teasee for once. But it wasn’t worth it if it meant she took back her offer. His brain cobbled together something barely plausible and ran with it. “Jiji’s back, though,” he blurted out. “The scrape I helped him with in the shower. He won’t be able to sleep without this soft rug under him.”
“Yup. I’m very delicate. I need softness for my owies.”
She muttered something full of profanity about him and his owies, then scoffed. “Scrape, my ass. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Okarun could tell it was already a foregone conclusion from there, so he got up and grabbed the futons while Jiji hiked up his shirt to show her. They turned out the lights and settled in with a minimum of bickering, and the room fell silent.
Peace at last. He stretched out his legs and sighed, listening to Momo and Jiji breathing quietly a few feet away on either side of him, and was flooded with contentment.
His mind kept tugging at the corners of things, though. Trying to find something to be worried about, because that’s just how he was. You messed everything up, for those times when there was some kind of actual friction between him and someone he cared about, like Momo or Jiji. You don’t deserve this, for those times, like now, when everything was fine.
But the time he’d spent with Momo had given him a tiny bit of perspective on himself. By now, she’d practically beaten him over the head with the observation that he pushed everyone else away before they ever had a chance to get to know him, and he’d finally started to believe her.
Everything really was fine, and he really did deserve to be here, with his - his friends. So he huffed in annoyance at himself, mentally gave himself a flick on the forehead, and rolled over onto his side with more force than the movement actually required.
What was that light? He squinted in the direction of Momo’s bed, then put his glasses on.
With the lights off, Momo’s room was a warm grey, dark enough to be comfortable, but with just enough diffuse light coming in through her pink leopard print curtains to pick out the gist of her plushies and Ken Takakura merch. Now, though, a familiar ghostly green lit up her covers and the shape of her lying beneath them.
As soon as she could tell he was looking at her, her psychokinetic hand gave him a big friendly wave and beckoned him closer.
There was no way he could ignore her. He sat up, listening for any change to Jiji’s breathing, and then crept up to her bed on tiptoe.
Should they risk talking like this? Maybe he should try to convince her to chat with him in the morning to avoid waking Jiji up. He stood there, indecisive, until she pressed her back to the wall and gestured emphatically for him to join her under the covers.
His heart started doing cartwheels.
But it wasn’t very appropriate, was it? Her grandma was asleep downstairs, and Jiji was only a few feet away. What exactly did she want from him?
She was scowling up at him now, thumping the mattress next to her louder and louder.
Well, what choice did he have?
He joined her, facing outward with a generous amount of space left between them, only for her to snag him around the middle and yank him all the way in until she was molded to his back, not an inch to spare.
“Ayase-san… “ he whispered.
“Comfy?” Slowly, with infinite care, she slid her arm between his and his belly, squeezing him to her before relaxing again.
Her breath and her hair tickled the back of his neck. He shut his eyes and sighed, trying to get his whirling thoughts to line up with what was going on. “Yes.”
He was in her bed! This time, with her in it! What was expected of him? What should he avoid doing? He cautioned himself against making assumptions and decided to simply take things as they came, without taking anything for granted. So, with great difficulty, he resisted the urge to demand an explanation and waited for her to start.
“So, uh. You n’ Jiji, huh?” she said in a low voice, just above a whisper. “What really happened?”
Of course she wanted to know about that. He wanted to know more about where that had come from himself, truthfully. But he could at least give her his side. “I don’t know what happened."
“What? You were there.”
This wasn’t at all like when she’d misunderstood his intentions toward Aira, when she’d caught them in such a compromising position on the ground at school. This time, there was no way of explaining things or getting out of it - and he didn’t want to, anyway. He wasn’t in the habit of weaselling out of things he was actually guilty of.
She deserved the truth, and she deserved him looking her in the eye while he gave it to her. He sat up, gently removing her arm, and rolled toward her.
“Ayase-san. I apologize, from the bottom of my heart. It wasn’t my idea. But Jiji and I came very close to kissing. I think. And I didn’t stop it,” he whispered forcefully.
“In my bed?”
“In your bed.”
She didn’t have the shocked expression he’d been expecting. Or an angry one. He couldn’t read her at all right now.
“And in the shower, you guys… ?”
“He asked me to look at an infected scrape on his back, so I did. I washed it out, and then, um. Apparently I touched his back muscles. More than I needed to, I mean.”
Her mouth quivered, lips pressed tightly together, and he got the impression she was trying not to laugh. But she regained her composure quickly. “And nothing else?”
“And nothing else. I swear.” But that wasn’t enough. “I’m so, so sorry I came so close to cheating on you.”
Her face lit up, and this time she did snort. “Okarun, you didn’t. So. We’re good. I was mostly just worried about being first.”
“First?”
“Like this,” she said, sitting up in bed and leaning over him to close the distance. She caressed his cheek, slowly, gently, and kissed him.
He froze, deer in the headlights, while she pressed her lips to his.
Kissing felt glorious. A little weird, maybe. But glorious.
She pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye, and to his relief, she looked almost as thrilled as he was. “You’re s’posed to breathe, stupid,” she whispered, grinning, before she went back in for more.
He licked his lips and met her halfway this time, finally remembering to breathe. It was so much better now, but of course his floundering brain immediately set to work analyzing it instead of enjoying it. Pretty typical of him. But what a waste! He might never get to feel this way again! He allowed himself to do what felt natural, angling his face towards hers and lightly running his hand up the fluffy sleeve of her pajamas, and that helped.
She sighed contentedly against his mouth, a tiny sound that nonetheless made his heart swell, and that finally did it. His brain succumbed and turned off.
He kissed her back, placing small kisses on the corners of her mouth and then the center, just to see how many different ways their mouths could fit together.
He was enjoying himself, and probably could have gone on forever like that, but she was more impatient. She tugged his glasses from his face, folded them, and put them above his head on the headboard. Then she dove back in with a vengeance.
“Ayase-san,” he sighed, lost to sensation.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing.” He closed his eyes again.
She put more weight on him, her chest pressed to his, and touched just the tip of her tongue to his lips. It made him jolt. She stopped again, considerate of him, but he needed more of it and lifted his head from her pillow to get the feeling of it back as soon as he could.
He could die like this and be happy.
Kissing closemouthed was one thing. This was a different beast entirely. He parted his lips to let her tongue in, warm and wet, and the feel of it on his own shot electricity through every inch of his body. Feeling overwhelmed in the best possible way, he did his best to give as good as he got, opening his mouth and tilting his head for a better angle.
She made another tiny sound in his mouth, though this time it definitely couldn’t be called a sigh.
How could he make that sound happen again?
She took charge and showed him how immediately. Without pausing what she was doing with her mouth, she patted around in the dark until she found his free hand, the one that wasn’t resting on her arm, and placed it on her chest.
His brain had already been pleasantly paused, but now it fully stopped working. So did his mouth. Keeping his lungs operational, pulling in air and letting it out again, was all he could manage for a long moment.
“More. Keep going,” she ordered, and took his mouth again.
Yes ma’am, he thought, and did as he was told.
She’d have to do more than her fair share of the kissing, though, because everything he had was focused on his hand. She breathed harder through her nose - really, they were both panting by now - as he gently explored her.
She was definitely not wearing a bra.
He’d never allowed himself to imagine this in detail, so it was foreign to him. Did girls like this? They had to, or she wouldn’t have told him to do it. But what did she like about it, exactly? He needed to collect more data. So he held her breast in the palm of his hand, surprised at how heavy it was, while his thumb stroked the swell of it.
Apparently it didn't take much. Her hips leapt towards him, bringing her bare leg against his hips in the joggers he wore to sleep. They were only in contact for a split second, but it was more than long enough for her to find out that he was hard.
“Agh - I’m sorry - “ he hissed.
She’d sat up immediately to put some distance between them, still breathing heavily. “It’s. It’s okay,” she sighed. She grabbed his glasses for him, and once he had them on again, he could only describe the look she was giving him as being one of unease. She kept looking over at Jiji, sleeping in his futon a few feet away. “I want to. But we should stop,” she finally said.
He hadn’t even realized he’d had a physical reaction to her until she’d accidentally brushed against it. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
She kissed him angrily, something that gave him confusing shocks of pleasure even as he wondered how to fix things, and said, “No more sorries. That was good. But you gotta go back to the floor, or - or we’ll just get caught in the morning.”
He gave her one more peck, his thoughts in turmoil, and then did as he was told. It took him a long time to fall asleep.