𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿.

they're in her classroom. he stopped by with lunch to share. his face sweet. hands polite. he greeted her with a smile and a hug that lasted a second too long for just coworkers. they eat at her desk, conversation bordering on casual much to her disliking but she's a taken woman now. her partner's touch feels akin to a first date's now. awkward. not entirely unwelcomed. brushed off easily. she can't come. she can't get turned on. nothing can set her alight unless it's kento. and he's here. eyes flickering between her face and the window. utahime wonders if he can't look at her. if he feels guilty for encroaching on claimed territory. it would not be a surprise. nanami is an honorable man. he is respectful and chivalrous. he has morals. far better ones than hers. it is what she admires about him. that stoic, strong willed character. she thinks that she wouldn't deserve him if they had worked out. he's too perfect. too well rounded. she was starved for approval and he was secure in himself.

iori should not be gazing at his lips as he discusses his yuji's progress and instead thinking of the way they moved against hers. she should not be looking at his hands, eyes skimming the veins and ridges of the skin and recalling the fingers in her hair, the way they were steel against her face as he guided her along his length. that was a memory shared a month prior. it has been only twelve days since those very digits were curling in her during a friendly outing. utahime hasn't been able to return to normal.

utahime is a mess of a emotions. she can't recall their first time being this intense. it was soft, delicate. he let her get on top, control the pace. he touched her, kissed her with a focus that was pure devotion. he had managed to make her finish just as he was emptying into the condom with the help of a dutiful thumb. he hid her under his covers when haibara burst through the dorm door to pass out in a fit of grizzly bear level snores. they giggled under the blanket and shared soft kisses till she had to go.

he's a prince, her kento. even now, kissing her wet cheeks, interlocking their fingers. her heart hammers, chest rattling with sobs that she had been harboring for years since he'd quit the society those years ago. she knows she can't look enticing in this state. she apologizes between hiccups too because she wants him to feel good. to take his pleasure in her. his hold on her hips is excruciating and she knows it's because he missed her too. they'd been toeing around this for too long. always sneaking kisses. quick releases that they can wipe off and walk away from.

now it is raw. pure primal desire that has bubbled up and spilt over from years of avoidance. his command is exactly what she needs to hear but what's new? nanami always knows what to do. in every aspect of his life he knows what is right. what needs to be done for the best outcome. it's why she trusts that this affair-- this rotten act they are committing together matters. it has meaning.

she holds her breasts, palms ceasing their prior bounces that began to distract her from the perfect way he filled her over and over. she gazes at him, sniffling and crying, ❛ n-need you! just y-you! ❜ only him. always him. her brain is static, only able to make out his face, the feeling of him inside her, the weight of his body as it crashes into hers. ❛ i love you. k-kent-to. l-love you. ❜

he has a nice place. spacious, painfully modern like something out a catalogue. everything looks close to brand new as if he barely lives there at all. utahime has half a mind to ask if he decorated the place himself when she spots the full length mirror to the far left of the living room wall. she pictures him giving himself a once over every morning, ensuring his hair is shiny but not oily. his shoes are free of any scuffs. his shirt is wrinkle free. the thought makes her smile to herself and she catches her expression in the object and it makes her sheepish.

they sit on the couch and she suspects it's because he knows how skittish she is. that if he took her to his room, she would sit at the very edge of his bed, keep her coat on, chicken out. utahime is a good girl. she doesn't kiss on the first date. she only has one drink, nibbles on finger foods. her mother raised her to be a proper lady and as a result, she is completely out of her depth at suguru's home. they've been tiptoeing around each other relentlessly. mostly her doing. but he's patient. playing the field as if it is a mere pastime and not something he wants nor needs.

it was intended to be coworker outing. some dive in tokyo that shoko insisted upon for the cheap drinks and greasy appetizers. kento had been distant since the evening he introduced her to his apartment and she fell to his knees in a puddle of low impulse control and desperation. it hurt. not as much as it did when she did not have him at all, but enough to where she was afraid everyone would be able to tell something was not right with her. they all slide into a two sided booth together. gojo snagging the seat beside shoko before she could resulting in iori sitting opposite the doctor. it leaves the space open for nanami to occupy and that alone makes her stiffen. it feels like a crime for him to be so close. for her to smell his cologne, feel the brush of his leg against hers. she keeps her gaze trained on the two in front of them. watching shoko slap away gojo's greedy fingers as they reach for another fried piece of cheese and forcing herself to laugh when gojo spews some theatric retelling of the latest mission his students went on.

and utahime is downing drinks to drown out her anxious insides. each pitcher being finished quicker than the last. it isn't long before shoko's eyes are going lazy and gojo is poking at her cheek. the two are bickering now and utahime is now left out of the interaction. forced to fall into kento's attention. she goes to open her mouth, ready to blurt out something both boring and casual before the words die on her lips. he's crowded her against the wall's end of the booth, his lips are at her ear, hand tucked under the sundress she swears she did not wear specifically with the intention to get him to look at her. iori bites back a gasp, his words provoking an onslaught of slick that rushes to greet his fingertips.

she nods shakily, a quiet whimper escaping her lips. face shifts to tuck itself into his neck and croon softly. to anyone in the vicinity, it would appear as though she's telling him something that cannot be heard beyond the sound of music in the speakers. utahime shudders, voice a breathy exhale, ❛ thought y'were mad at me. 'm so sorry, kento. ❜ her hand grips his knee, nails sinking into the fabric slightly to ground herself, ❛ please touch me. need you so bad, please. ❜

it has been some time since the last time she can recall having him this way. there were a few moments she remembers fondly! trips back from missions, kento shadowing her after graduation, the rush of adrenaline after the battle. frantic hands as they climbed into the school issued vehicles. the need to be quick but sated. drawing faces in the fogged glass after. it has been years since they smiled breathlessly that way. but that does not matter any now. nanami has come back and utahime aches to reacquaint herself with him.

her eyes are watery. pupils dilated. wide as saucers. she's high on him. the familiar musk of him as she nuzzles his lap. the weight of him on her tongue. the flavor of salted flesh on her tastebuds. the brush of ash blond curls against her nose. she can't look away from his face either. he's changed and utahime is smitten all over again. she hums around him, lips stretched but unrelenting in suction. and she's squirming on her knees his words spurring her on, making her needy and weak with their breathy tone. iori readjusts, shifting to sit on the toe of his loafers. just for pressure, she tells herself. it isn't long before she's dripping down her chin in saliva and her hips are gyrating against his shoe. desperate as the day they first touched.

it is a bad idea.   that much she DOES know.   but the first kiss felt ELECTRIC.   her first kiss.   only kiss.   it was an embarrassing feat,   really.   utahime was supposed to be older,   wiser.   she was supposed to be BRIMMING with life experience and yet she had her first kiss at 21 years old with a younger someone she HATED.   but his mouth   . . .   his tongue—   they were engrossing to say the least.   every swipe and nip made her legs feel jelly.   there was a throbbing between her thighs that she only felt after watching something risque,   hearing the guys groan during combat training.   it annoyed her greatly that he was so good at this.   that he knew exactly what to do to make her stomach flip and thighs press together.   while in the time since that initial brushing of lips,   they have not gone further than some over the clothes groping and rubbing.   utahime knows they’re both itching for more though.   desperate to feel each other's skin without barriers and a potential audience. 

iori pulls back to pant softly,   cheeks ABLAZE.   they’re leaning against her desk—   in the newly bestowed classroom she would be teaching in come the following semester.   satoru jokingly suggested CHRISTENING it after she insisted on showing him the space.   the campus is empty.   she memorized faculty and staff schedules within her first week shadowing as an instructor.   satoru is chirping in her ear about how cute it is that she doesn’t know what she’s doing.   how sloppy her kisses are.   that she’s lucky he’s happy to teach her.   even in her own hormonal haze,   his words are enough to get a rise out of her.   she frowns,   pushing him back against the wood and hissing,     ❛   would you just shut up?   ❜   

fingers are clumsy as they pop open uniform trousers with one hand.   the other limb remains flat in the center of his chest,   holding him still.   the unruliest of puppies.   when she succeeds,   her embarrassment wanes slightly at the feel of him warm and heavy in her palm.   he liked her sloppy kisses.   iori exhales sharply.   she’s never seen one up close.   never held one either.   but she doesn’t want him to tease her for that too so she give it one firm tug—   more experimental than experienced.     ❛   i don’t think you’ll get this inside me.   not that you deserve to.   but if you move or make fun of me,   this’ll NEVER happen again.   ❜     utahime leans forward,   eyes trained on his face for the guidance she refuses to ask for,   still holding him in place to suckle at the engorged tip of him.