lost in the forest

masterlist

~

nanami

i wanted you to know that I am ready to go, heartbeat, my heartbeat - in which you find out your crush on coworker nanami kento isn't as unrequited as you thought

choso

So you didn’t really lose any sleep over lack of romantic partners, too focused on school and work for the absence to really be noticed. Sure, there would be a cute classmate or two that would catch your eye, and you’d appreciate them from a distance. They all fit your usual preference of traditionally masculine, athletic guys who were easygoing extroverts. You liked competence, and a potential partner of yours needed to be confident, commanding.

So yeah, maybe you did have a type. Everyone had preferences and you were no different. You didn’t really picture yourself straying from those preferences either, couldn’t picture yourself with someone shy or super introverted. Until now.

He was a transfer student, partway into his sophomore year in the psychology program, same as you, though this was your first year. You shared the same 10 am human development lecture, meaning you saw him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning.

You never would’ve considered Choso your type. You’d never really been into the whole emo look. Sure, you’d enjoyed your fair share of Panic at the Disco and Paramore in middle school, but scene hadn’t really been your, well, scene.

You wouldn’t have ever listed all black clothes, smudged eyeliner, painted nails, or heavy silver jewelry in your list of characteristics you typically found attractive. Yes, Choso was tall and muscular. He had tattoos, including an odd line across the bridge of his nose onto his cheeks. These were all things you knew you found attractive.

But for as bold as his style was, he was quite shy. He never volunteered answers in class, only responding when called on in a quiet, almost self-conscious voice. He should speak with more confidence, you would think whenever he gave his answers, given that they were always intelligent and well-said. You never thought you liked shy types, preferring guys that could speak up and could offer up confidence in situations where your anxiety might get the best of you.

However, you couldn’t deny the way your eye was always drawn to him. He sat in the first row on the far right hand corner. You sat a couple rows behind him, more towards the center, meaning you got a fairly clear view of him. When he wasn’t taking notes, he was drawing little doodles in the margins of his notebook. You often found yourself wondering what they were.

He was cute, in his own way. He seemed quite sweet and polite, offering notes to a classmate who'd been out sick or a helping hand when the girl next to him was confined to walking on crutches. You knew some of the other girls in your lecture didn’t view him the same way. You attended a private school, a very elite one. Between your stellar grades and test scores, as well as a fairly high financial need, you had earned yourself a full ride to the university. And while the education and accommodations and features on campus were stellar, you had found that private school meant students with private school money—and the attitude that came with it. Entitled, privileged, and, in the case of the aforementioned girls in your lecture, catty fucking bitches.

You’d heard them whisper and giggle amongst themselves over Choso. Judging his clothes, his hair—you found his short space buns rather adorable—and how he’d sometimes stutter when answering questions. You often found yourself grinding your teeth, wanting to turn and cuss them out over their bitchy remarks. Choso was genuine and unpretentious in the way that pretty much everyone else at the university wasn’t, and you found yourself wanting to defend him. To protect what you were positive was a sensitive, artistic soul.

You often found yourself wondering what he did outside of class. Did he like to draw? You’d seen his little sketches in his notebook, maybe he liked drawing legitimately, in sketchbooks instead of college ruled paper. Maybe he liked to game? He seemed like he would enjoy PC gaming. Despite being outwardly withdrawn, Choso seemed like the type to be intensely dedicated to his interests, and you found yourself wanting to know what they were.

You were delighted to find out that your interest was shared.

It started with a partner project your professor had shared with the class on Monday. Partners were randomly chosen and the rest of class was spent exchanging contact information and planning out a rough timeline and ideas for the project. You had cheered internally when your name popped up next to Choso’s. Sliding into the now-vacant seat next to his, you’d smiled and introduced yourself. Choso had blushed furiously, ducking his head and quietly giving you his name in response.

You formed a theory that day, one that was proven correct by the next class.

Choso had a crush on you.

He was horrible at hiding it, always blushing or stuttering when talking to you, never able to look you in the eye. And despite how protective you’d felt towards him against those judgemental bitches that sat near you in lecture, you couldn’t help but tease him a little bit.

Leaning in and smiling softly when he spoke, not breaking eye contact when you’d prop your chin on your hand to listen intently to what he was saying. His eyes would widen and a furious blush would spread across his cheeks, and he would lose track of whatever he’d been saying. His reaction would prompt an even more mischievous glint in your eye and sharpness in your smile, in turn making him even more nervous. When you suggested meeting up in the library or his apartment, he’d choked on his sip of water. You’d just grinned.

You’d decided the library was probably a better way to ease Choso into spending time with you without him having a heart attack. Baby steps.

The afternoon you two decided to get together for your project was a rainy one. A very rainy one. The brief mad dash from the bus to the entrance of the library had left you soaked, and now you stood in the air conditioned library shivering so hard your teeth clacked.

Your slow, shivering footsteps to the third floor where you and Choso had agreed to meet left wet footprints along the floor. You swore that this floor was even colder, and you tried to wrap your damp cardigan around yourself in attempt to chase away the goosebumps that had covered your skin. Your footsteps faltered, however, when you spotted Choso sitting at a table in front of a window. He was backlit by stormy gray skies and occasional bursts of lightning. He hunched slightly over what he was working on, brows furrowed in concentration. He was drawing, you realized, and you stood there for what was probably a creepy amount of time, but the warmth that blossomed in your chest as you watched him was addicting.

Until the cold that had seeped into your very bones wrenched a violent sneeze from you. Choso startled and looked up, eyes widening as he took in the sight of you, which most likely resembled a drowned cat.

“Oh,” he breathed, standing up so fast his chair tumbled back. He scrambled to the chair next to him, wrestling something off the back of it. As he rushed towards you holding a mass of black fabric you realized it was his jacket.

Heavy leather settled over your shoulders and you were suddenly wrapped in the warm, spicy scent of his cologne. His dark eyes were scanning all over your body as if searching for injuries, his brows pulling together in worry.

After a long moment of you two staring at each other, you finally remembered to give him a softly whispered, “Thank you”.

He blushed, ducking his head and abruptly stepping back as if he’d just realized how close you two were standing. His big hand, adorned with heavy silver rings that glinted in the low light, came up to rub the back of his neck.

“I doubt you’d be comfortable studying here in wet clothes,” he said suddenly. “I-if you want we can stop over in my dorm and you can borrow some clothes.” You were quiet for a second, surprised that he’d invited you into his space given how shocked he'd been when you’d first brought it up. Mistaking your surprise for reluctance, he rushed out, “O-only if you want to of course. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He looked adorably horrified at the idea.

Not wanting him to panic any longer, you grinned at him. “I’d love to.”

This time around, you fared a bit better on your journey to the bus stop since you had Choso’s large jacket to shield you from the worst of the rain. You relished in the warmth and the scent of his cologne, and the fact that you were dwarfed by his jacket. You chanced a glance up at Choso and admired the way he towered over you despite the way he hunched his shoulders as if to appear smaller. He had not fared so well in the rain; his hair had fallen out of its knot and the strands stuck to his face, highlighting its sharp lines and angles. His eyeliner had smudged slightly, contrasting with the paleness on his skin. Instead of looking like the dripping mess you had, he looked like he had stepped out of rainy ad for designer clothes or cologne or something. It was rather unfair.

The whole bus ride to his apartment, you could see him stealing glances at you from the corner of your eye and it took everything in you not to grin. You wanted Choso, and you delighted in the fact that he wanted you just as bad, if not more so.

His apartment was small, but tidy and clean. It was well decorated too, but you weren’t too surprised by that. There were pretty paintings and drawings lining the walls, with art supplies and trinkets scattered across nearly every flat surface. You spotted an electric guitar leaning against an amp in the corner.

The smell of his cologne was practically woven into the air in here, and it was all you could do to not gulp down deep breaths of it with every inhale.

As you as you two had stepped inside, Choso had immediately started rambling nervously, apologizing for the mess and letting you know you could borrow any clothes you wanted, and did you need anything? Like a water or a—

“Choso,” you interrupted gently, “do you mind terribly if I hop in your shower?”

“Oh! Of course! Um, let me grab a spare towel and some clothes and—” his voice faded as he started rushing towards his room, and you trailed after him with a soft smile on your face.

You had been about to invite him to join you in the shower before he excused himself to his room and told you to shout if you needed anything. Slightly disappointed, but not discouraged, you’d nodded and headed towards the bathroom.

Little did you know that as soon as the bathroom door closed, Choso was stripping down to his boxers and lying back on his bed, palming his cock through the fabric as he desperately tried, and failed, not to imagine you naked in his shower. Covered in soap and shrouded by steam, looking oh so perfect like you always did.

He tried to stifle the tortured groan that tore out of his chest. His hand was rough over his cock, handling it without finesse as he tried to get himself to stop. He felt so, so guilty, but the mental image of you glistening under the water mere feet away from him made him feel so, so good. Heat tightened in his gut as he fished his dick out of his boxers and started to viciously pump his hand up and down the shaft, biting his forearm to stem desperate cries of your name.

Pressure built in his gut, stomach tensing as he hurtled towards the edge. White covered his vision as he came suddenly and violently, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm. It was only as he laid there trying to catch his breath that his ears stopped ringing that he realized the shower had stopped.

Panic shot through him as he leapt up, blindly searching for clothes and something to wipe the cum off his stomach.

You stepped into the room to find Choso in sweatpants, his chest heaving and looking slightly guilty as his hands wrung together nervously. He opened his mouth to say something, before he registered what you wearing.

His t shirt was huge on you, nearly hanging down to your knees. Your collarbones peaked out from the collar of the shirt, your damp hair hanging down in gentle waves over your shoulders.

This domestic, intimate version of you, standing in his apartment wearing his clothes left Choso speechless and his mind short circuiting. You smiled softly at him and his heart stuttered.

“I, um",” he couldn’t get any words out, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Choso,” you said gently, and his eyes snapped to yours, a guilty flush spreading over his cheeks.

“I’m sorr-” he started, but cut off as you shushed him and stepped closer. His heart damn near stopped as you raised you hand to touch his chest. Your delicate fingers drew graceful lines over the designs of his tattoos, tracing the whorls of ink that covered his chest.

“Did they hurt?” you whisper, transfixed by the sight of how small your fingers looked against the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, hardly daring to breathe in fear of breaking whatever was happening in this moment. He nearly tipped his hand back and groaned when you pressed your entire hand against his chest. He had no doubt that you could feel the way his heart raced under your palm.

Your breathing synced with his, and he tipped his chin down to take in the sight of you standing so close to him with your hands on his skin. This time, as your other hand came up to press against his stomach, he couldn’t stop his groan.

His eyes shut in embarrassment and he opened him mouth to apologize, but you cut him off.

“Choso,” you whispered. He eyes opened and landed on you. The way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing in the room worth looking at, filled you with warmth and confidence.

“Yes?” he whispered back and you grinned.

“You should kiss me,” you told him, and his dark eyes widened.

“What"?” he sputtered in surprise.

“Kiss me,” you repeated and smiled at him.

With another groan, he hand came up to cradle your jaw and he pressed his lips to yours. You were immediately addicted to the taste of him. He worked his mouth over yours feverishly, his other arm coming up to wrap around your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him and trapping your arms between the two of you.

You were expecting something soft. Something shy and sweet from the boy who’d steal glances at you during psych lectures. You were not expecting this.

Choso’s tongue surged into your mouth, making you moan and run your hands up to his shoulders to grasp at him. He was practically curled around you to reach your mouth, he was that much taller than you. You startled when you felt the clack of metal against your teeth, before your pussy clenched at the realization that Choso had a tongue piercing.

He ate at you like he was starving, and the hand at your jaw moved as he crouched down slightly. You pulled away a little, confused and wanting to see what he was doing. Choso gave a displeased grunt at the distance before wrapping that arm under your ass and yanking you back to his mouth.

He now held you in the air like you weighed nothing as you two made out, heavy breaths and wet sounds from your mouths the only thing that could be heard in the room. You curled your hands in his black strands and pulled on them roughly, earning a grunt from Choso.

He spun with you in his arms, blindly walking towards the direction of his bed. Your mouth ripped from his in a soft cry as you two fell back on to the bed, your stomach swooping from the quick drop.

For a moment, Choso hovered over you, staring down at you like he couldn’t believe you were really here. You took in your fill of him as well. His handsome face and silky hair. The muscles that bunched at his shoulders and biceps and pecs. The veins that corded his forearms and hands. You couldn’t believe the girls in your class didn’t find him ridiculously hot.

Choso must’ve snapped out of whatever awed trance he’d been in, because he swooped back down to devour your mouth, a muscular arm wrapping around you once more to yank your body to his. Your back arched and you moaned at the feel of hard muscle and hot skin along your bare thighs as you wrapped your legs around him.

He thrust helplessly against you at the sound, as if your moans and cries controlled his body. When you moaned and gasped “Again!” he began grinding against you, grunts and groans of his own leaving his mouth as his tongue traced every inch of your mouth, the cool metal ball of his piercing tracing each path.

Heat had spread through you, and need burned like fire low in your tummy. You were soaked and desperate to show Choso that you weren’t wearing anything under his t shirt.

“Off,” you groaned, yanking at his sweatpants. “all of it.”

At first he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t bear to be away from you even for a moment, but when you tugged on his waistband again he almost tripped over himself as he rushed to rip off his clothes.

Silence descended over the room, with only the sound patter of rain outside softly filtering in.

You knew Choso was a big guy. He towered over you and his shoulders were practically doubled the width of yours. You knew he was muscular, even more so than you’d initially thought as you stared at his naked body. Each muscle was rock hard and defined, as if a sculptor had taken extra care to run a chisel along every line of him.

And you could’ve spent hours looking at and running your hands over his arms, his chest, his back, his thighs; you could’ve spent hours idly tracing your fingertips over every line of his tattoos that lovingly hugged his body. Hopefully some day you would. But now, one thing on his body was stealing all of your attention.

Choso was huge.

Hard and thick and throbbing. So heavy that it hung between his thighs instead of springing up. Veins wound around the shaft towards his head that was already leaking pre. The pretty pink of his dick belied the fact that Choso was packing a fucking monster.

“Holy shit,” you breathed as you stared at his cock. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, partially in arousal and partially in shock.

“Is… is it... okay?” Choso, the poor thing, asked uncertainly. You finally tore your eyes from his throbbing cock to look into his soulful puppy dog eyes.

“You’re huge, Choso,” you said, stating the obvious.

Or not so obvious. To Choso at least, given the fact that he glance down at his own cock and looked back at you and asked, “Is it?”. You almost laughed, before you realized he was genuinely asking. (He was too embarrassed to say that he’d found himself to be about the same size as the dicks he’d seen in porn, apparently not aware that porn stars did not reflect the size of the average population.)

“Yeah baby,” you responded, “you’re really, very big.” At that, Choso whined and grasped at his cock, rutting into his hand as your words made him twitch and leak even more.

“Can I… what do you want me to do?” Choso asked, desperation bleeding into his tone as his hand pumped his cock like he couldn’t help it.

“Come here, Cho,” you whispered, and he lurched towards you as if yanked by a leash. He practically fell over you, one arm catching himself as he planted a knee on the bed, eyes never leaving you.

Slowly, you leaned forward, close enough that you were breathing each other’s air, before you leaned back in order to lift his t shift off your body. Choso made a sound halfway between a groan and a sob as he realized you were completely naked underneath.

“Please,” he whimpered, the hand on his dick squeezing the base violently now to stop him from cumming just from the sight of you.

“Touch me, Choso,” you told him softly, curious to see what he’d do first.

Which, apparently, was to dive face first into your pussy.

You cried out, hands flying down to grip his hair as he swiped his tongue in a fat stripe over the entire length of you. If you hadn’t been so shocked, you would’ve been embarrassed by how loud the wet slurp a single swipe of his tongue had elicited from your pussy due to how fucking soaked you were for him.

He dove the fuck in, practically nuzzling your cunt as he thrust his tongue into you. You groaned, eyes fluttering and back arching. Every time you made a sound or called his name he sucked at you even harder, licked at you even rougher. Every movement of his mouth caused wet slurps and squelches to sound from between your legs, your pussy dripping for him. You could feel his piercing caress you with every swipe of his tongue.

He alternated between long licks and deep thrusts of his tongue inside you, neglecting your poor clit that throbbed for attention. The longer he went, the more desperately it pulsed as wetness poured from you.

“Please Cho,” you begged, using your grip on his hair to pull his face even tighter against you. He was practically smothered in your pussy, not that he seemed to mind. His groan vibrated through you, causing you to groan as well. “Please.”

At your second plea he relented, wrapping those pouty lips around your clit and sucking, hard, the metal of his piercing pressing perfectly into the underside of your clit. You nearly screamed as you came without warning, throwing your head back against the pillows as the dam broke. Heat pulsed through you as your hips rolled against Choso’s mouth. Your orgasm left you so wet you could hear Choso drinking you down as you slowly came down from your high.

You melted into Choso’s bed as he raised his head to look at you. The sight of him, dark shiny eyes looking at your from between your thighs, big veiny hands gripping the fat of your hips so hard you’re pretty sure you’ll find bruises in the morning, made you clench around nothing.

“Your fingers, Cho,” you panted, reaching down to cradle his cheek, “need you to get me ready to take your cock baby.” He gave a tortured groan, burying his face against one of your thighs as he ground his hips into the bed. With a parting kiss to your leg, he leaned back on his haunches and brought a hand to your sensitive, pulsing pussy.

You gasped, stomach heaving as his thick fingers swiped up the seam of you before pressing inside. A single one of his fingers was like two of yours, and you rolled your hips to pull him deeper. He groaned, starting to pump his finger into you roughly, soon adding a second finger.

You could feel the cool metal of his rings against your flushed, burning hot cunt. Each press of his fingers inside made a wet squelch, and when he curled his fingers against your front wall you began crying out. When he slowly eased a third finger inside of you and pressed all three fingers up against that spot, you screamed as another orgasm wracked through you. Your legs shook, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back as you came so hard it almost hurt.

Choso had wrapped an arm around one of your bent legs, pressing a kiss to your knee as he continued to thrust into you gently, slowly spreading his fingers inside of you. Prepping you.

“C’mere,” you slurred, pulling him to your mouth even as his fingers stayed pressed inside you. You kissed him, hot and wet and filthy as you panted into his mouth. Choso slipped his free arm under your shoulders to pull you closer, your bare chests pressing together. He whimpered when you pulled at his hair roughly. You pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your mouths.

“Please fuck me, Cho,” you whispered.

He couldn’t move fast enough, leaning back and pulling his fingers out of you so fast you cried out. He fumbled at his nightstand, pulling up a drawer to search for a condom. Briefly, you had the ridiculous thought of the poor cashier that had to ring up whatever crazy huge size of condoms Choso needed. The thought quickly vanished and your mouth went dry as you watched him roll the condom on. Despite how relaxed and wet you were for him, you were seriously doubting your ability to take this thing.

As if sensing your nerves, Choso raised his head to look into your eyes. His were big and pleaded, but searching for any sign of reluctance or discomfort.

“Come here,” you said, and he followed obediently, draping his big body over you and letting you pull his lips to yours. Your tongues swiped lazily at each other as you both panted into the other’s mouth. You made a game of searching for Choso’s piercing with the tip of your tongue, which seemed to drive him crazy.

Slowly, you reached down to grab his cock, trepidation seeping in as you grasped at the girth of him. Holy shit.

He whimpered against your mouth as you guided him towards your entrance, and bit at your lip as your pressed the tip of him inside. You had to work him against you for a second, spreading your lips around him until he slipped in with a slight pop. You groaned against his mouth and he froze, terrified that he’d hurt you.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered as you pulled him toward you to take a few more inches. You knew there was so much more left to go but already you were feeling the deep, aching stretch. “You’re so fucking big, Cho.” Your praise made him moan, and he leaned down to hide his face in your neck as his hips jerked forward at your words.

You let him take over, trusting him to watch and listen for any cues from you that you needed to stop, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Choso began to pull back the few inches you had already taken before slowly pressing back into you, feeding you a little bit more of him. He did it again, and again, starting a slow pace of gently thrusting more and more of him inside of you.

You clawed at his back, no doubt leaving stinging red lines behind, as you gasped in his ear. Each slow thrust felt like it was rearranged your insides, the stretch a deep ache that pulsed through your hips. After what felt like an eternity, you felt his pelvis press flush against yours, the hair of his happy trail tickling your tummy.

“Choso,” you gasped out as his shoulders heaved above you. He shook with the restraint it took to stay still, the blissful wet heat of you around him like heaven. He moaned your name in your ear and your body arched to press impossibly closer to his.

Your eyes rolled back as a mini orgasm shivered through you at just the feeling of taking all of him. He gave a helpless little cry and thrust his hips against you as he felt you pulsing around him.

“You can—hah—you can move now, baby,” you panted into his ear, and with a whine he immediately pulled back a few inches and thrust back into you hard. You cried out, fingernails dragging down his back as he did it again. And again. And again and again, until he was slamming into you with his arms wrapped tightly around your back, forcing you to arch into him as he desperately drove his hips forward with his face buried in your neck.

Distantly, you could hear the headboard slamming against the wall, and had the inane thought that his neighbors were most likely not happy campers at the moment.

Those thoughts were quickly knocked from your head at a particularly delicious thrust that had you arching your back and moaning Choso’s name, a breathy exhale into his ear that made him grind forward with a whine.

Veins popped out along Choso’s hands and arms, which were planted on either side of your head. Wrapping your hands around them, you ran them up his arms to feel the dips and curves of the muscles that strained from holding his weight up. He shuddered as your hands traveled up his arms, across his shoulders, and into his hair, tugging lightly.

“Fuck,” he grit out, dropping to one elbow and wrapping his other arm around your back to yank you against him. You could feel the hard lines of his abs against the soft skin of your stomach. And you swear you could feel the slight bulge of him in your tummy press out from inside of you against his abdomen. Your sweaty stomachs slid against each other as he thrust into you. Desperately, he slammed his mouth to yours, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into the messy kiss, tracing his tongue with yours and feeling the metal ball of his piercing caress it. When you sucked his tongue, his hips slammed forward viciously and you broke the kiss with a cry.

“Choso,” you gasped against his ear, “please.”

He groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and thrust in to the hilt, punching a pathetic little cry from you. The entire length of his inside of you stretched you ridiculously, and you felt him deep in your tummy, your entire body seeming to throb around him. One of your hands fisted his hair while the other dug nails into his shoulder when he started to grind his hips into you, hot and heavy and so, so good.

When your hips jerked up, Choso pulled his back a little, only to snap them forward back into you, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from your wet heat. Each of his short, powerful thrusts ended with a filthy grind against, making the veins that twisted along his shaft hit every sensitive spot inside you, lighting you up like a live wire.

The arm he had wrapped around your back slid lower, hoisting your hips up in the air. The change in angle meant that his length slid along your g spot with every slick slid in and out. Light flashed behind your eyes and white hot pleasure burst over every inch of you. Your skin felt like it was on fire as your tummy coiled tightly.

With a shout of his name, the pleasure exploded, and you practically sobbed as wave after wave swept over you. Wetness poured from you, coating Choso’s shaft and stomach. You could hear him groan at the sensation and the way his hips stuttered against you at the feeling of you pulsing around him.

With one final, desperate thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and bit down on your shoulder hard as he came. You shivered at the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the heat that spread along his covered cock. Deliriously, you half-wished you could experience the sensation of him cumming inside you without a condom, to have his cum spill out of you when he pulled out.

Your arms were wrapped around each other as you both fought to catch your breath. You could feel his large chest heaving against yours. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, the soulful brown bottomless as he gazed wonderingly at you. You lifted a shaky hand to cradle his cheek, warmth spreading in your chest when his eyes closed in bliss and he nuzzled into your palm, turning his head to press a kiss to it.

He mumbled something that was completely muffled by the palm of your hand. You giggled, pulling your hand away in order to hear what he was saying, only for him to nip at your fingers. He grinned dopily at your shriek.

“What did you say?” you asked breathlessly, unable to resist meeting his goofy grin with a smile of your own.

Crimson bloomed across Choso’s cheeks, but he stared you down unwaveringly nonetheless.

“Will you go out with me?” he asked, and despite everything you two had just done together, you could tell he was nervous. And despite everything you two had just done together, his question launched a horde of butterflies in your stomach.

“I’d like that,” you respond, delighting in the wide grin that spread across Choso’s face. You reached up to brush away some of the dark strands of his sweaty hair that had fallen across his forehead.

“But before that, why don’t we hop in the shower?”

The next time your Human Development lecture met, you found yourself in the seat next to Choso’s, sitting close enough for your thigh to brush against his. His right hand was busy handwriting notes (you’d teased him about his refusal to upgrade to typing up his notes, but he’d insisted writing them down by hand was better for memorization), while his left rested on your leg, thumb sweeping idly back and forth across your thigh. You bit your lip to try and contain your grin, focusing intently on typing away at your laptop.

During a brief lull when your professor stepped away to the computer to pull up the next presentation, soft whispers reached you from a few rows back.

“so lame, why does he even—”

“no why he actually bagged—”

“please… doesn’t even look like he could—”

“probably… small dick… pathetic virgin—”

Anger simmered violently through you, and you found yourself clenching your jaw, imagining all the ways you could turn around and tell those fucking bitches to back off—you were pulled abruptly from your thoughts as Choso’s thumb swept of your leg again. You glanced at him and saw him give you a shy, sweet smile before turning back to his notebook.

You pressed your lips together, fighting off a smile once again. You settled back into your seat, facing forward as your professor started up his lecture.

Whatever. you thought to yourself smugly. They could think and say whatever they wanted, because at the end of the day, you were the one walking side to side after a night with your emo boyfriend.

What wasn’t so simple was the pang in your chest and pit in your stomach every time Nanami appeared in your line of vision. Sure you could chalk it up to how handsome he was, or how you’d never truly dated (and were scared you never would), but that wasn’t all there was to it.

On your first day, scared and maybe a little regretful of accepting this job when you realized you were the only female employee on floor six, Nanami had been the one to walk you through the job. His clear-cut way of speaking and his patient, non-condescending explanations (which were sorely lacking in your other co-workers) had earned your instant respect and admiration. But it was his gentle golden eyes that crinkled around the corners when you managed to get a wry smile out of him and the way that smile transformed his entire face that earned something much deeper.

Nanami was obviously smart, but also obviously exhausted. You could see in the dark circles under his eyes and the way his shoulders seemed to hold the weight of the entire company. You’d often find your thoughts straying to how you’d like to massage that tension from his shoulders after a long day, or treat him to something from that bakery down the street he visits almost everyday in hopes of earning that rare smile. Your mind also often conjured other ways you might ease his tension or earn a smile. Like making dinner for him at your apartment and then getting on your knees and making him cum at the table while he ate. Or letting him lay back and relax in his bed as you rode him.

And just as often, you’d shake your head as if that could forcibly remove those types of thoughts from your head. First of all, he was your co-worker, and it felt both inappropriate and disrespectful to harbor these types of thoughts and feelings about him. And second, you had a hard time believing that someone as smart and kind and handsome as Nanami could ever see you that way. Third, you were also fairly sure he held feelings for the woman that worked at his favorite bakery. Why else would he go nearly every day?

You had tried leaving subtle hints, too scared of rejection and humiliation to do much more than that. Leaving coffee—black, with one spoonful of sugar—at his work station in the morning. He had insisted you didn’t need to, and you insisted it was the least you could do after all he’d done to help you settle in and continues to help you day to day. Besides, you already go to the cafe on your walk to work to grab your usual matcha latte, so it was really no trouble, you’d told him.

You’d also been doing all you could to lighten his workload. Nanami was fastidious, to the point of taking on others’ work on top of his own so it could meet his standards. It started off with little things: making sure he always had at least three of his favorite type of pen in the mug by his computer and stocking blue sticky notes in his desk drawer. Then, as you had grown more comfortable and confident at work, you’d started printing off reports and notes you knew he needed, as well as writing reports up so he wouldn’t have to do so many. (Your writings skills, you were confident, definitely lived up to Nanami’s notoriously high standards.)

Your efforts were often met with silent nods with eyes that you were convinced were softer than his usual expression, and the occasional softly murmured “thanks”. You knew these were far more than every other employee received from him, but they weren’t exactly encouraging, so you ventured out into more dangerous territory.

Nanami’s lunch breaks were short and often only consisted of the sandwich he’d purchased at the bakery. Noticing this, you started packing bento boxes for the both of you. Carefully crafted with perhaps too much thought put into making it a balanced meal, you placed the bento box on Nanami’s desk every morning. And if Nanami was displeased or asked you to stop packing lunch for him, you reasoned with yourself that you at least had gotten into the habit of packing lunch for yourself. You had also come up with an excuse to save yourself from embarrassment if he did ask you to stop—buying and eating food before it went bad was extremely hard for one person. Making a bento box for Nanami prevented your food and money from going to waste.

But you never needed to give that excuse, since Nanami never said anything. You never left a note with his lunch, but given that every other employee on your floor were men who held neither the competency or compassion to pack a lunch for someone else (let alone themselves), you knew that Nanami must have figured out that there was no one else it could’ve been. While you still held fear that you were at the risk of embarrassing yourself, you figured since he hadn’t told you to stop, you’d keep making bento boxes.

While you didn’t interact with Nanami much, you felt as though you’d connected with him far more than any other employee at JT. While it was rare that Nanami went to nomikai, you’d both struck up conversation during those after work get-togethers, voices carrying over softly to one another over the din in the izakaya. You found yourself falling deeper the more you experienced Nanami’s eloquent and careful way of speaking, all in that deeply rich voice of his that you wanted to wrap yourself in. Being the sole focus of his attention was addicting, and in those brief but meaningful conversations you wanted to sink into his gaze and never come up for air.

At work, your interactions were professional and brief. You were both very intelligent and competent workers, meaning you could often guess what problem or question the other had. Issues were resolved quickly and roadblocks were swiftly navigated and solved. You two worked well together, the way he explained things was always understood by you, and the solutions and reasoning you came up with were always used and appreciated by him. Working with Nanami and having such a wickedly smart man view and treat you as an equal made you feel smart and valued. He never doubted your ability to help him, and trusted you to ask questions if you didn’t understand, which wasn’t often. He made it clear he knew you were talented and smart, which didn’t help the affection for him that burned in your chest at all.

But after five months of these efforts and interactions, Nanami had never given any sign that he reciprocated your feelings. And while you had worked hard to leave your insecurities and poor self-image behind you, you couldn’t help but doubt yourself. While you knew you were smart and a good worker, were you pretty enough? Funny enough? Interesting enough? Attractive enough?

While you also believed Nanami not to be so superficial, you couldn’t help your thoughts. Especially after the day you walked by the bakery while Nanami was purchasing his usual sandwich and saw for yourself how beautiful the girl working behind the counter was.

As your doubts began to claw you into a sad, self-pitying mood, you began to withdraw. You slept in too late to run to the cafe before work, meaning you went without your matcha and a coffee for Nanami. You’d lost your appetite, meaning no more bento boxes. And your exhaustion and sadness meant your work ethic suffered. While you still completed everything that needed to be done, you did nothing beyond that. No extra printing or writing reports. You clocked in, did your work, and clocked out.

After about a week and a half of this, Nanami had begun worrying about you. You were too lost in your funk to notice, but he began looking at you more during the day, noting the tired droop of your shoulders and the way exhaustion clung to your eyes. When you got up to use the bathroom, he made sure your water bottle was filled and that your coffee mug was full and heated up. All the while, you remained too out of it to notice his actions.

By the time Friday rolled around, all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide from the world until Monday inevitably rolled around. But as you dragged your feet out of the last meeting of the day—that had gone nearly 25 minutes over schedule—you spotted a blue sticky note on your keyboard.

Sakura’s. 8 o’clock.

There was no signature, but you’d recognize Nanami’s impeccable handwriting anywhere. Something between anticipation and panic blossomed in your stomach, and your head shot up to look around the office floor, only to find it nearly empty, that blond head of hair nowhere to be found. You glanced back down at the note, then your computer. It was 6:12 now, with your apartment a 12 minute walk from work and Sakura’s 20 minutes by train in the opposite direction. That left you with well over an hour to panic and stress out at your place over what to wear and what Nanami could possibly want.

After walking to your apartment, you decided to stress-clean the entire place to keep your mind off the note and your eye off the clock. A half an hour later, you realized in a panic that cleaning does, in fact, work up a sweat and that you know had an hour to shower, get ready, and take the train to the restaurant.

After a shower that consisted of scrubbing your skin until it was pink, trimming the hair on your mound, and shaving your legs, pits, and bikini line, you stood in front of your floor length mirror in flowy black pants and a dark green long sleeve shirt tucked into them, the brassy buckle on your belt catching the light. You had whipped up some small braids and threw your hair into an artfully messy bun. You tried to give your reflection a pep talk, but ultimately decided panicking and running out the door with your purse and peacoat was the better idea.

Your heart pounded and sweat gathered under your arms the entire train ride, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. You disembarked and felt like a newborn colt as you headed towards the restaurant with how shaky your legs were. After spotting Nanami’s blond hair as he waiting outside the door, your heart attempted to crawl into your throat. Wishing you had some water, you swallowed hard as you walked up to him.

His eyes sharpened on you the moment he spotted you, but he said nothing, only giving you a small nod and moving to open the door for you. The place was fairly busy, soft chatter carrying on under the soft lighting in the restaurant. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a warm, large hand settle at the small of your back to guide you to a secluded table in the corner.

Nanami pulled out the chair for you as you sat, and you could only watch in something like disbelief as he sat down across from you. He shrugged off his suit jacket, and you tried not to stare at the way his shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders. The buttons surely must be screaming out for mercy. The golden light from the bulb above the table both sharpened and softened his features, his eyes even more vibrant as they stared at you. Before you could get a word out, a server appeared at your table. Both more than familiar with the menu, you both ordered right away. You with the tonkotsu and Nanami with the spicy ramen.

After the server stepped away, you both looked at each other for a long moment. Nanami’s eyes were piercing and unwavering on your own and you felt heat creep up your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you broke his gaze to grab your water and take a sip.

“You’ve been quiet at work lately.” Nanami finally broke the silence. You nearly startled, half expected to have sat in silence the entire meal. You took another sip of water to buy you time.

“I’ve been feeling quite tired lately,” was all you could think of for a reply. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, and as Nanami continued to level his careful gaze on you you could tell he knew that.

“Is it something I did?” Nanami asked suddenly, and you felt your stomach drop as panic gripped your chest. What could you possibly say? Yes actually, the fact that you haven’t swept me off my feet and kissed me like you need me more than air has really dampened my mood. Ha.

“Of course not, Nanami-san,” you sputtered, panic still fluttering in your chest. He hummed in response before he reached for his own glass.

“Then perhaps it is something I didn’t do,” he concluded, and the panic you felt before was nothing compared to the way your stomach twisted and writhed now. Before you could think of something, anything, to say, you were saved by the server placing your food on the table.

Ducking your head, you suddenly became entirely engrossed in unwrapping your chopsticks and digging into your noodles. While you were obviously stalling, Nanami humored you, tucking into his own dish.

The noodles and warm broth thankfully didn’t upset your roiling stomach and actually served to settle it a bit. Food did always find a way to calm you and lift your mood. The delicious meal had begun to distract you from your panic and you found the silence that sat between you and Nanami peaceful rather than stressful.

That is, until Nanami spoke again.

“I believe I’ve been treating you unfairly,” he said, having finished his food before you. He now sat looking over his empty bowl at you as you paused, noodles hanging out of your mouth. Flustered, you slurped your noodles as gracefully as you could, chewing and swallowing carefully so you didn’t choke.

“I’m not sure what you mean Nanami-san” you replied, setting your chopsticks down. Your voice was quiet and relatively calm, while your internal voice was repeatedly blaring fuck fuck fuck fuck in your mind.

Nanami tilted his head as he regarded you, making you feel like one of your co-worker’s reports being exposed to his ruthless scrutiny.

“Everyday, you’ve gone out of your way to treat me kindly and make my day easier. And everyday, I did nothing in return.” Nanami sighed, leaning back against his chair a little. “I very sincerely regret doing so.”

“I didn’t do those things because I wanted something in return, Nanami-san,” you responded, eyes on your hands that were fiddling with the napkin draped across your lap, “I did them because I wanted to, wanted to help you.”

After a long moment of silence, you finally dared to look up. This time as you met Nanami’s eyes, something burned in them that you were too nervous to understand. Suddenly, he leaned forward, the way he did in meetings when he wanted to get his point across and win arguments.

“I’ve missed you,” he said bluntly. “Missed your lunches and printouts and excellently-written reports. My sticky notes are all gone and I’m down to one pen.” He signed as your eyes widened with every word. “But mostly I miss your smiles. I miss you checking up on me without saying anything, making sure I’m okay like you always know when I haven’t gotten enough sleep or have been having a bad day. I miss your presence, how just knowing you’re on the same floor as me always manages to calm me down. I miss your lovely voice when you talk circles around every man in the room and knock them down several needed pegs.” By now, a small smile had stretched across his lips, his eyes so soft as he looked at you that it hurt your chest.

For a moment, you could only stare at him and hope that your mouth hadn’t dropped open in shock. At the amused look in his eyes, you suspected it had fallen open to some degree. You watched as he shifted, and startled when his hand settled on top of yours. It was large and warm and dry, and you were afraid yours were sweating so much he could feel it.

He was waiting for a response, and you knew him well enough to know that he was perfectly comfortable sitting in silence until you answered him, no matter how flustered and panicked it made you.

Your mind raced with all the things you could possibly say. Eventually, all you could come up with was, “I didn’t think you felt the same.” It came out strangled and weak, but it was out there all the same. Something in your chest loosened, as if those words had lifted a weight off of it. And your heart started pounding from something other than fear as a larger smile appeared on Nanami’s face and his thumb began to rub back and forth on the back of your hand he was still cradling.

“I don’t want to be over presumptuous, but might I invite you back to my place?” he asked, his deep voice soothing as if he knew the panic his words would incite. But you wrangled your racing heart before it could gallop out of your chest as you smiled.

“I would love nothing more.”

You’re not sure who moved in first, but you found yourself stumbling back further into Nanami’s apartment, both of your shoes kicked off and Nanami’s jacket halfway down his arms as your mouths pressed together hotly. Your entire body felt warm as his big hands gripped your waist and guided you confidently towards what you hoped was his bedroom. You loved the way his body dwarfed yours, seeming to tower over you.

He broke your kiss to press his mouth to your jaw, then down your neck and shoulder. The wet, open-mouthed kisses made you shudder and you gripped at his broad shoulders like a lifeline.

He pulled away suddenly, but before you could protest he was hauling you up into his arms effortlessly before lowering you to his bed with characteristic gentleness. Nanami settled on top of you, knees on either side of your hips and hands on either side of your head, caging you in. For a moment, he simply looked at you, his golden eyes burning. They ignited something in you, and it simmered low in your tummy and brought a flush to your cheeks. The warm, masculine scent of his cologne wrapped around you, and you clenched in response. His eyes darkened as if he could see the reaction your body had to his.

Slowly, he lifted a hand to your face, brushing his thumb along your chest with heart aching tenderness. He pressed a kiss to your forehead with a murmured, “You’re beautiful,” before capturing you lips again.

You felt like every inch of your skin was on fire as you clawed at his clothes, the place between your legs soaked and aching. You were pretty sure you ripped off a few buttons on his shirt in your efforts to get it off, to which he chuckled lowly as he leaned back to finish removing it, the muscles in his arms flexing as he did. You followed him, running your hands down his chest and abdomen, pressing your mouth to his shoulder and sucking a mark onto his skin. You didn’t even think about it, think about if he would want to be marked in anyway, but simply felt the overwhelming urge to do so. To prove that he was yours, if only for tonight. But judging by the way he hissed a breath out through his teeth and gripped your waist with bruising strength, he didn’t mind.

With force you weren't expecting from the gentle man, you were pushed back onto the bed, your belt and pants stripped off you before you could think. You had soaked through your underwear, and Nanami leaned back onto his haunches, staring at you with a hunger in his eyes that took your breath away and made your pussy clench around nothing.

His nostrils flared as if he could see your reaction, and he gripped your thighs, pulling them over his own as he moved you towards him. His large hands kneaded at the fat of your thighs, seemingly entranced by the way his hands looked squeezing at your legs. His eyes settled on yours, heavy with promise.

“Is this okay?” he asked lowly, his voice making you clench again.

“Mmhmm!” you responded, too overwhelmed for words as you squirmed in his strong grip. Suddenly, you yelped as a sharp sting bloomed at the side of your thigh. He’d spanked it, you realized numbly, and the heat in your lower tummy coiled impossibly tighter.

“Words, sweetheart,” he commanded.

“Yes, yes, please, more—” you gasped out, writhing. Your pussy was leaking so much you were pretty sure you were leaving wet marks on his trousers, but you were too far gone to care.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, before shifting his grip to your waist once more and yanking you even tighter against him. You could now feel the hard ridge of him pressing in-between your legs. You moaned and tried to shift your hips and grind against his erection. But you cried out as one of his hands shifted to smack the side of your ass.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he murmured lowly, before leaning down over you. His lips pressed wetly under your ear, undoubtedly leaving a mark of his own as he mouthed at that spot. His big hands began pushing your shirt up your body, exposing your bare tits to the cold air. Nanami groaned deep in his chest when he realized you’d gone without a bra. You felt a flash of insecurity as he looked at your chest. You’d forgone a bra because your breasts were small enough to not require one and for a moment you couldn’t help but wonder if he thought they were too small—

The thought fizzled into nothing when he dove down to mouth at your small tits hungrily. He licked and bit at the peaks, groaning, before sucking at your nipples, causing your back to arch off the bed. His hands grasped at your waist as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. As he continued to feast on your tits Nanami pulled you impossibly closer to him, his chest pressed against your stomach so that you could feel his hums and groans rumble through you.

“Nanami-san,” you gasped, running a hand through his hair, pulling at it and causing him to groan deeply. “Please—”

“What do you need?” he murmured, pulling away only slightly to press kisses along your chest and collarbones.

“More, please,” you groaned, reaching down to palm him through his slacks. Nanami leaned back once more, this time pulling your shirt off as he went. For a moment, he simply looked at you, long enough that you began squirming under his gaze.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, before leaning down to lap at your cunt. You arched sharply with a shout, his strong hands pulling your hips up to his mouth as he moaned at your taste.

He alternated between swiping his tongue along and between your folds and suckling at your clit gently. You sobbed every time he latched on to the sensitive bud, crying out his name as he lapped at your wetness. His groans vibrated against your pussy, making you gasp as pleasure flooded your limbs. One hand reached back to brace against his headboard while the other snaked down to grasp at his hair, yanking on the golden strands.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, “let go for me.”

You could do nothing but obey him, your stomach trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your pussy clenched and gushed, Nanami drinking down your wetness greedily and filling the air with a wet squelching that brought heat to your cheeks.

As you gasped for air, Nanami leaned back and lowered your hips back into his lap. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you looked at him through pleasure-hazed eyes. You saw that look mirrored in his own eyes, as if eating you out had brought him just as much pleasure as it did you.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” he asked softly.

“Good, so good,” you panted between breaths.

“Enough to keep going?”

“Yes! Yes please, Nanami—”

He cut you off with a bruising kiss, his tongue sweeping in as if to taste every inch of the inside of your mouth. You moaned into it, basking in his heat and drowning in the scent of his cologne and him.

As Nanami kissed you, one of his big hands trailed down your chest and tummy until it reached the apex of your thighs. You gasped into the kiss as his fingers traced your soaked folds, caressing you reverently. And you groaned as he pushed a finger—so much longer and thicker than your own—into your heat. Your wetness and previous orgasm meant his finger slid in with hardly any resistance, and after a couple pumps Nanami withdrew before easing into you with another finger.

This time, the fullness was far more prominent, and you threw your head back, spreading your thighs around his hips further to try and accommodate his fingers.

“Easy baby, that’s it,” he encouraged, swiping his fingers in and out of you gently. You tried to slow your breathing, looking deep into his eyes as your body began to adjust. He twisted his wrist, beginning to press his fingers up against your upper wall with every withdrawal. You groaned deeply, pulling at his shoulders for another kiss.

He went without protest, kissing you deeply as he began to speed up. You cried out into his mouth as you felt pressure coil in your tummy, your hips working against his fingers as that wave built up once again.

You fell apart on his fingers with a cry of his name against his lips. Wave after wave washed over you, so strong that the world went fuzzy around you.

You floated back down slowly, breathing deeply as Nanami withdrew his fingers.

“Kento,” you whimpered as you watched him place those fingers in his mouth, tasting your wetness as if it were a delicacy.

“So good sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me,” he praised you, and you felt a corresponding flutter in your chest.

“Want you,” is all you could manage to get out, grasping at his chest and shoulders, “please.”

“Good girl, using your words,” Nanami murmured, leaning over to open the drawer of his nightstand, pecking your lips as he did. You heard crinkling as he slid the condom onto his cock, and after a few moments Nanami’s big arms wrapped around your back, scooping you up to press you against his chest as you’re now perched on his lap.

“Take what you need baby,” he told you, looking at you through hooded eyes. You bit your lip as you rose up a little, reaching down to grab his shaft. You hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but judging by the size of the man himself, you’re guessing he wasn’t exactly small. As your fingers wrapped around his cock, you realized that assumption was correct.

A pang of trepidation shot through you, and Nanami must’ve seen it in your face and began to run a soothing hand up and down your back as the other gripped your hip, steadying you.

“Take your time sweetheart,” Nanami murmured, running his nose along yours, “I’ll catch you.”

With a fortifying breath, you guided him towards your entrance. Slowly you sank the tip inside of you, testing the give of your body against his. You hiccuped as you sank down a little more, the insane stretch causing a deep ache to spread through your hips. Feeling unsteady, you braced your tucked knees against Nanami’s hips, leaning forward and resting your head against his shoulder, breathing deeply. He wrapped one burly arm around your back, the other coming up to pet your hair.

“That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing such a good job,” he praised as you sank down a couple more inches, shifting your hips back and forth to press him inside. His hand was so big and so warm on the back of your head, and he smelled so good when you pressed your nose into the side of his neck.

Finally, your hips sat flush against his, and you let out a little cry at the aching fullness you felt. Sinking down and taking all of him had sapped the strength in your legs, and you shook around him.

Nanami shushed you, still holding you tight against his body as he began to use his arms around you to lift you up and down his cock. You cried out at the movement, the insane stretch burning despite the copious wetness your body was pouring out for him.

“Kento, Kento, Kento, Kento,” you were whimpering out again and again against his neck, fingers scrabbling uselessly at his broad shoulders. He groaned deeply, and you felt it along every inch your bodies were pressed together.

“Such a good girl,” he groaned into your hair, pressing a kiss there as his hips began to piston up into you. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as heated pleasure began to wrap around your hips and your pussy, your tummy clenching. You were too lost in the building pleasure to be embarrassed by the whimpers and moans falling from your lips as he bounced you on his cock.

“Please,” you cried out, not even knowing what you were begging for, and Nanami groaned again. You turned your face from where it had been buried in his neck to look at him. A beautiful flush had spread across his cheeks and chest and he looked down at you with an intense look in his eyes that you were too blissed out to decipher. You reached up to run your fingers through his undercut before pulling his mouth down to yours.

It was less of a kiss and more of a pressing of mouths together, sharing groans and panted breaths as Nanami continued to bring you to the brink of pleasure. The sweat slicking between your bodies caused you to slide against his chest and abdomen and you gripped the back of his head and his shoulder tightly. You couldn’t bear to let him go.

You don’t know how long he held you, bounced you on his cock and swallowed your cries of pleasure. Your mind had blanked out, only able to process his taste, his smell, the feel of his body, his worship, him, him, him.

The wave built slower this time, but with a depth that scared you. Like staring down the wall of a tsunami, waiting for it to crash over you.

And crash over you it did. Your body convulsed as pleasure wracked your limbs, and you clutched at him tighter as if the wave of pleasure might sweep you away from him. But you didn’t need to worry about that with the way Nanami’s arms grasped you even tighter to him as your release brought him tumbling over the edge as well. You could feel every pulse and twitch of him inside you, and the warmth of his body seeped into your very bones.

You melted into him, trying fruitlessly to catch your breath. Gingerly, Nanami grabbed your waist to lift you off him gently. You whined as he withdrew, a dull ache rising in the absence of his cock inside of you. With a murmur of your name against your lips, Nanami lowered you to the bed oh so gently, before rising to dispose of the condom and grab a washcloth.

When he returned, light from the bathroom spilled into the room, haloing him in gold as he bent down to wipe your body carefully. You groaned a little as the cloth rubbed against your sensitive skin and Nanami shushed you gently, sweeping a hand over your hair in comfort. When he was done, he climbed into bed next to you, arranging the sheets over your bodies and pulling you close to him.

You snuggled against his chest with a small noise of contentment, wrapping an arm around his trim waist, and you felt his huff of amusement against your hair.

“Comfortable?” he asked quietly, and you gave a sleepy mmhmm in reply. He chuckled, hugging you even closer to him as sleep dragged you under.

As your breaths evened out, sleeping peacefully against his chest, Nanami stared down at you, sweeping a hand down your hair. He couldn’t believe he finally had you here, in his bed and his arms. He had wanted you just as long as you’d wanted him. He’d desired you fiercely, in love with your intelligence and compassion and kindness. But he didn’t want to cross that line, terrified of pressuring you or making you uncomfortable. He wanted you comfortable and content always. So he kept his distance, admiring and wanting you from afar. But when he sensed you starting to pull away from him, he knew he needed to reach out, lest you slip through his grasp.

And now that he finally had you, he wasn’t planning on letting go.