#divwrites

The morning Isagi came back, you learned from his explanation that he was held up by a group of friends. His words tumbled out the only way they knew, telling you how, because of his friends, he had missed his subway, and then, along his run here, an old man had needed help with his car. He would have contacted you, but his phone had run out of battery. All of his ramblings in quick succession relieved you to no end, but you were so shaken, none of your words came out right in response, and it wasn’t until Isagi took your hand in his and asked if you were okay that you realized you were shaking.

“I thought you quit because of what I…” you were able to say once his warmth reached your fingers. “Because of what I said to you. You looked hurt. I’m sorry—”

While his distance felt intentional despite your connected hands, he had quickly placated you. “Ms. Sato, don’t worry. I’m okay, really.”

You hated this smile of his, though. It was so obviously fake.

“I don’t know what came over me, either. If this was a mistake, I’ll accept that responsibility. I’m okay with it.”

His kindness drowned you. The way someone years younger than you was handling your tumultuous decisions better, extending kindness where there should’ve been seething, hurts you worse. What’s more, it’s as if he were implying that it was okay to get closer to him. As if you could continue to flounder, and he would let you, no matter what that did to him. And he didn’t look down on you for it.

All of this makes it too difficult for you not to reach for him again, like experiencing a high from a drug and knowing it won’t be the last. Still, reaching out implies taking account of your actions, and that dividing line is much too thin for you to bear. You just can’t. So you continue this way, going in circles, wanting to get away but not getting anywhere.

Isagi steps in with a large box in his arms. “All of your packages just came in, Ms. Sato. I’ll bring them back here.”

You watch him, leaning back against the wide oak table against the wall. “Thank you. Jay didn’t come in?” The notion is odd to you.

“He said his schedule was packed, so he couldn’t drop in to chat,” Isagi says with a shrug as he sets out to grab the rest of the boxes.

Jay doesn’t usually pass up the opportunity to open his mouth, especially around here, but you assume he must really be busy for him to drop off the packages for Isagi to haul in. It is a good haul this time. Your eyes scan the boxes, which are beginning to fill up the floor. With a sigh, you start to unpack them onto the table.

“It’s a bit slow out there. Do you want any help?”

Not a bad idea, considering the volume of boxes. “Sure. Here, if you could sort through the new tools and foams, that’ll be a big help. Oh—” Noticing the sweat dripping down his neck, you change course. “Grab a water first. Thank you for bringing all of these in.”

That makes Isagi smile and dismiss the concern. “I’ll be alright, Ms. Sato. Thanks, though.” He crouches beside you before the box of supplies and pops the tape.

You hold down the urge to sigh again; he’s been saying that a lot lately. He’s obviously hot, but it’s like he was raised in an oven with the way he reacts to working up a sweat. He’s used to it, he’ll say. You know you get cold easily, but that’s no excuse for others to overheat.

Thoughts wander as you go about unloading the vases onto the table.

Isagi rummages through his box as well, sifting through the levels of scissors and shears and wondering how anyone thought packing these together with the vase foams made any sense. He guesses this is why you want him to check on them. So he does…until he doesn’t.

He really does try to do a good job and follow what you say—but there’s—

There’s a gold chain around your ankle, and it catches his attention. A single charm of a tulip dangles on the side of the bone. A tulip. His eyes widen.

His hand reaches out before he can even think—

“Oh—” The touch doesn’t make you jump, but you look down at Isagi spacing out with his finger pressing the cool metal against your skin. “…Isagi?” You blink a bit in realization.

Oh.

Oh no.

Since the anklet is worn so close to the floor, you assumed it would go unnoticed. Not that it’s a secret that you had bought it not long after your first kiss with Isagi and the surprising comparison he made of you. It’s just a bit embarrassing to admit how much it meant to you. You don’t move, hoping that the delicate charm didn’t unbury those memories for him.

A couple of seconds pass before Isagi comes back to himself and sees what he’s doing. His head flies up, and his face blushes red with embarrassment. “I’m really sorry! I don’t know what I…what… It’s…a beautiful chain, Ms. Sato… I’m sorry.”

You crouch down with him.

After everything, he confuses you like this. He may be a masochist, because you really thought you had hurt him before, what with his distance, so why come to you again? Maybe there’s a bolder person underneath this layer of shyness, or maybe he is actually okay with this. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought this anklet.

Under your gaze, you watch as his blush reaches his ears. “Isagi,” you say softly.

“Yes?”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” It would be better to hear it from his own mouth.

Isagi’s eyes flutter in confusion. “Huh?”

You hug your knees and shrug. “I’d like to know on the chance I make another mistake.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “Oh,” he says. “I mean, mistakes happen… And I wouldn’t be mad at you for making them…”

It’s almost like a spider setting up shop between two roses. Your heart thumps harder in your chest. Isagi has no idea what it means to extend too much kindness. What would happen if you decided to take more?

“Honestly…” His eyes flit to yours before dropping to your ankle. “A flower should bloom however it wants…” He slips his fingers under your anklet. “You could do anything, Ms. Sato.”

Isagi has no clue how you’ll test his limits if given the permission.

You poke his shoulder and push enough for him to plop onto his rump.

“Ah—” He looks at you in surprise before laughter bubbles out of you both.

“Even this?”

“Yeah, that’s fine too—” He’s taken off guard when you then lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. His eyes shimmer.

“And this?”

The contact leaves tingling in its wake, and he touches where your lips were. “Yeah… Of course, that’s okay, even if you did it again, and again…”

You can’t help but feel endeared by him in such a state, this young man, completely capable of asserting himself, submitting on his backside. “Is that your answer for everything?”

He chuckles. “Most likely.”

This is how you wish you appeared to others whenever you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. If you were only as endearing as he is. You find yourself in his space next, his face cradled in your hands, and your mouth on his.

------------------------------

A/N:

So who believes Jay was actually busy... haha. Originally I was gonna have him text y'all later on asking if you knew Isagi was dropping slurs on him, but I decided to keep that out. Just know Isagi had some words with him aklsjdklajsd

These two are idiot for idiot, your honor. That damn anklet. The tulip is blooming alright. She's so baaaaad.

And Happy New Year, everyone!!! Thank you for reading Blue Hour up to now. It really means a lot!!

---

The soft filtered light through your bedroom window pulls you from your dreams, and the moment your eyes open, you’re met with the heavenly sight of Isagi sleeping soundly on his belly beside you. His arms are folded under the extra pillow, and the sheets rest just below his bare shoulder blades, giving you a full view of his muscles at rest.

Your eyes widen. He must have fallen asleep as fast as you did. He’s practically glowing, as if it’s the afterglow of a good lay, but you know better than to think of it that way. Guilt pumps in time with your heart beneath your ribs.

Pretending like nothing happened is certainly out of the window since he’s still here—

Isagi’s eyes flutter open at that moment, meeting your eyes with sleepy bleeriness, and you lose your train of thought. He inhales deeply through his nose, a smile making way as he stretches. The sheets pull down to his lower back with the movement. “Morning, Ms. Sato…” He shifts himself so he’s propped on his side, the epitome of innocence in contrast with the events of last night.

You blink. “Mm—morning.” His nakedness threatens to distract you, as does the soft pocket of domesticity you now find yourself in, and you wholly didn’t ask for. Damage control runs through your mind.

His eyes flit over you, and he clears his throat, sensing the awkwardness. He rubs his head as he sits up. “I meant to leave last night after you fell asleep, but…”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t kick you out.” The need to get out of the same bed intensifies when the sheets pool around his hips, so you turn away and get up in no hurry, grabbing and wrapping yourself in your thin robe for the sake of decency. You’ve seen every bit of each other, so there’s no need to hide yourself, but you still lightly check yourself over. You realize it’s the short silk robe you used to wear for—never mind. “Are you hungry?” Turning to him again catches him with his eyes on you, that dreamy look glittering behind the deep blue of his irises.

“Oh, no, I’m alright. Thank you.”

“I’m going to make some tea, then, if you want some. Go wash up, and it’ll be ready.” You leave for your kitchen and take a breath in relief when you do, the hot sensation of Isagi’s eyes on you until you’re out of the bedroom.

Once left alone, Isagi’s face flushes. He presses his palms to his face, which still faintly smell of you—it’s a shame that he has to shower it off—and his eyes go impossibly round as the past twenty-four hours repeat in his mind. His eyes nearly roll back. “Oh my god…”

---

The mug of tea is waiting for him on the table when he steps out of your bedroom in some pants and his shirt in hand, toweling off his hair. Isagi notices it first since the table stands almost straight ahead of your bedroom door, beside the tall open windows where he sees you next, still in only your robe.

“That shower is amazing,” Isagi says as he pulls his uniform shirt over his head. “Thank you for letting me use it. I’ve never seen one like that before.”

“The waterfall head?” you assume and nod in agreement, your mug warming your hands. “It’s my favorite addition to this floor. And the seating.”

Isagi nods with enthusiasm. “It’s really nice.” He takes a seat at the table and sips at his tea.

You watch him over your mug. Despite having sex with an employee and actually getting satisfied on top of it, it appears as if nothing has changed between you. It’s a relief.

Feeling your eyes on him, Isagi looks up and smiles. “Thank you for the tea as well. It’s delicious.”

You find yourself smiling with him. “You’re welcome. It’s jasmine green tea with honey.” A thought occurs to you, and you add, sitting across from him, “I hope you’re not allergic.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine.” Isagi waves a polite hand in dismissal. “It’s really good.”

“That’s good.” You bring your mug to your lips, the soft pressure reminiscent of his on yours. Your eyes fall to his arms, and you notice the light sheen reflecting off his skin. “Are you hot?”

“Hm?” Isagi swallows a mouthful of tea and uses the towel to pat some of it away. “No, I’m alright, Ms. Sato. It’s nice in here.”

You don’t believe him, but you accept his answer. Because there’s something else on your mind. In the awkward silence that follows, you speak more hesitantly, averting your attention to your mug, “Do you…”

He hums in assent, a gentle nudge to keep going while he takes in the last of his tea.

“Do you have a partner?” you ask.

Isagi nearly chokes on his tea. He splutters a bit before clearing his throat, his head shaking adamantly. “I don’t!”

You nod at his answer and take a sip from your own mug, believing him this time. His heart can never truly leave his sleeve. “I’m relieved.”

“Huh?”

Leisurely, you cross your legs and lean on your folded arms. “If you did, then, having sex with someone would’ve surely hurt them.”

The notion causes something to flit behind Isagi’s eyes.

Bringing it up was only natural. It’s not like you were made privy to such things beforehand, and there was always the likelihood he could’ve been taken, what with that initial bouquet before you hired him. Perhaps, instead, this was your way of shifting the responsibility. It’s not like you were the only one pulled in by the lust that had built up, you choose to insist.

“Well…um…” Isagi’s brows knit and work as confusion passes through him. “Don’t worry, Ms. Sato. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t have a partner.”

“Same here,” you say smoothly, propping your chin in your hand. “I’m not one to normally do this, either. I don’t know what got into me.”

The morning light continues to shift with the rising sun, and the shadows lazily creep over Isagi. He sits back in the chair, his gaze and hands drawn to his lap.

Drinking the rest of your tea, now cooled, the thought crosses your mind that you were probably just someone around while he had these feelings. If anything, that’s it.

“Isagi…”

He doesn’t look up.

“May I assume that what happened…was a mistake? Or maybe out of confusion?” Despite your confidence on the matter, you don’t understand why he looks… “I’m sorry, what I—”

“It’s fine.” Isagi abruptly stands, his head hung low. His eyes can barely be seen through his bangs. “I should really go.” He bows lightly and heads to the front door. “Thank you for the tea…”

---

The minutes drag on without much to distract you until the time on your phone reads five after one. Your chest feels tight, knowing Isagi has always contacted you if he would be running late.

You sigh.

He really isn’t coming back.

The tightness worsens at the memory of how he looked before he left and the way he wouldn’t meet your eye. His shift in body language was obvious: you hurt him. This is what you’ve done to the one person who comforted you at your lowest.

Serves me right, you think, the guilt gnawing from underneath the surface. Hanging your head, you hoist a potted plant into your arms to move to the showroom. The moment you enter, the front door dings. “Welcome—” You stop in your tracks.

Isagi stands there crumpled over in the doorway, a hand over his chest as he heaves for air. He’s sweating as if having run a marathon.

“…in,” you finish, shocked. The sight of him warms the room more than the wave of humidity from the open door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Ms. Sato,” Isagi steps inside, flushed from his face down to his neck.

The guilt inside you tumbles and swaps into something new at the notion of him staying, encapsulating around this relationship you know you never should’ve entertained. But seeing him again, seeing him choose to come back to you, it swallows your regrets whole and puts you at ease.

“Caelus,” Dan Heng sought him by the bed, turning him and pressing into his space to slot his mouth to his in heady pursuit. The act was so foreign to his subtle ways of showing affection in the past, but Caelus’ initial surprise was short-lived. He returned this affection with equal fervor and found Dan Heng wanting.

The glide of Dan Heng’s lips was grounding and all-consuming, and Caelus couldn’t get over how his new form created an air of security around them. He didn’t want this to stop. Without breaking apart, he pulled Dan Heng with him as he moved backwards onto the bed, and Dan Heng all but lifted him onto it in this need.

With Caelus’ legs spread around Dan Heng’s hips, they stayed like that for quite a while, heavy gazes intertwined, taking in the other as if solidifying that yes, they were real.

In a particularly sultry move, Caelus arched his chest and slowly pulled his shirt up to his neck, revealing his skin to him. As many times as they have shared a bed, for sleeping or cuddling, never have they seen more than the base layer of their pajamas. The sight of his soft tummy and chest made Dan Heng’s eyes visibly dilate. He reached a hand and paused with brief hesitation before placing his palm on Caelus’ stomach. His breath shuddered at the feeling of the milky-smooth, warm skin beneath his fingers, the way it gave beneath his touch, the soft sound it made when he brushed his hand up the expanse of his chest. With the Coreflame inside him, he could sense the coursing blood beneath, alive and alight with the stuff of stars.

“You are…perfect, Caelus…” Dan Heng murmured, taking each of his breasts in his hands and feeling them, kneading them individually, seeing how they mound when cupped. He cupped and kneaded down his sides, memorizing the shape of his ribs.

Almost an eternity of touching passed when Caelus spoke up, rather breathless, “Are we having sex?”

Dan Heng blinked in surprise, eyes coming back into focus. A twisted feeling settled in his gut at the notion. “Are we what?”

“Sex,” Caelus repeated, and then gestured to Dan Heng’s hand that was currently under the hem of his pants, effectively groping his hips.

Dan Heng’s brows knitted together, finally aware of the soft bulge in Caelus’ pants. “I don’t think this is how copulation works.”

“Foreplay, then.”

“I don’t think it’s foreplay, either.” The word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

Without pressure or push, Caelus grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on his stomach again. “Then, what are we doing? I want more of it.”

A simple desire, but Dan Heng didn’t want to think too hard on it. Because it was so easy to feel the tangible sinew taking form of them both as a single unit. But he supposed Caelus wouldn’t be as in tune as he was. “We’re…bonding, in a way. Becoming bonded,” Dan Heng said. “Do you want that?”

Caelus’ nod came quickly. “Whatever we’re doing, I want it. Is it a Vidyadhara thing?”

Dan Heng clicked his tongue at Caelus’ nonchalance and pinched his side where the skin was thicker. “Yes. It’s called bondmating. Let’s not get into semantics.” He just wanted to keep touching.

“But it’s not sex,” Caelus wanted to clarify.

Dan Heng sighed and rubbed at his head. “No, it’s not sex. It can involve it, but it’s not mandatory to achieve. Any more questions?”

The thoughts could very well be seen bouncing around in his head. They settled on, “How do we…you know, complete the bondmating?”

“Well, I was building up to that,” Dan Heng huffed. In truth, he didn’t really remember, either. He knew he had done so as Dan Feng—multiple times, in fact—but those experiences involved a much more physically intimate act. “You’ll know when it’s done.”

“Okay,” Caelus said with a shrug, “I trust you.”

“And I hold that trust dearly.” Dan Heng resumed his course of touching up Caelus’ body. “Can I…take this off?” He hooked a finger into the shirt bundled at his neck. With the go-ahead, he lifted his shirt over his head and set it aside. With this new access, Dan Heng scooped his arms beneath him and lifted him onto the lap of his kneeling legs.

“Whoa there, big guy,” Caelus laughed, holding onto his shoulders.

Dan Heng hummed, burying his nose against his shoulder. His hands roamed along his back, counting the bones beneath his muscles as he went. They traveled upwards, cupped his shoulders, and kneaded them, pressing him down onto him a bit. When Caelus tried to grind his hips against him, Dan Heng held him in place. “None of that now. Behave.”

Caelus was practically panting. “You’re one to talk…”

His ministrations weren’t fair to Caelus, Dan Heng knew. He also knew he was essentially resting Caelus’ case and making it worse by kissing along the juncture of his shoulder, giving soft and reverent presses up his neck. “We’re almost done.”

Lying him back down, Dan Heng slipped his own shirt off before reclaiming Caelus’ mouth once more, pressing chest to chest until he could feel their heartbeats. This was the most heated kiss out of the two, and Caelus begged to breathe intermittently. However, Dan Heng was relentless in his giving, and something began to stir. Even while in the midst of their heated passion, the energy in their bodies gradually softened until the separate innate vibrations hit the same frequency.

Their heartbeats synchronized.

Caelus gasped into Dan Heng’s mouth; the surge of the connection was almost like linking their bodies’ sensations. Dan Heng was rendered much the same, breathing in each other’s air like a life source.

“I feel it,” Caelus rasped. “I feel you, Dan Heng. We did it.”

Separating enough to meet his eyes, Dan Heng gazed into him with a gentle smile. He didn’t have to ask if he felt the way their souls sang in unison, or how the once dormant stardust in their bones now pointed to the other as their true north. He knew.

I am you.

However, baring your body fully before him now, clothes lost to the floor, years of familiarity with this song and dance still can’t wane the nerves tucked at the back of your mind under the weight of such a gaze. It’s not that you’ve never been desired before, or craved, or feasted upon, but never so electrifying. Bashful heat threatens to come to your face, and you veil it by avoiding his eyes altogether, feigning nonchalance, which ends up coming across as even more desirable to Isagi.

“Ms. Sato…” Isagi breathes. He takes the steps forward to drop to his knees before you, gently coaxing himself between your draped legs. “Ms. Sato…” he pleads more desperately. “You’re so perfect…” He places kisses up along your thigh. “Please… I might die if I can’t taste you…”

When he meets your eyes, those gleaming stars laden within his irises appear to swirl like numerous rings of galaxies, honing in with all of his being. Without even having committed the act of intimacy, the way he looks at you roils with the energy as if you’ve been spiritually conjoined by the matter. At odds with the sentiment of this hookup, you brush your fingers through his hair in an attempt to deter that intense gaze away. He nuzzles into your hand without breaking. You huff softly at this cute act that contrasts the intensity he’s just about bursting to unleash.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask him quietly, and the question has him pause and look away, making himself small by nuzzling his cheek into the softness of your leg.

“No… It’s my first time. Is that bad?”

You hum. “Not at all.” Spreading your legs more open for his viewing, you bring one to rest over his shoulder to mimic earlier for good measure, causing him to suck in a breath at the sight. “It’s the best time to learn, then. We can’t have you dying, can we?”

Isagi’s eyes shine. “Right!” He nuzzles closer to your core before he feels another tug in his hair. He groans and stops, the unspoken understood, and lets you guide him.

“Okay.” You lean back on a propped elbow to angle yourself better and fight that embarrassing heat that dares to call you a virgin. Never have you been this in control during sex, but there’s a thrill to it you want more of. But if you’re to be honest with yourself, you don’t really know how to instruct someone like this. Sure, you’ve had a mouth on you before, and you’ve voiced what felt good in the moment, but you never found yourself with someone who didn’t have any experience at all. In any case, you’d rather not remember the ways in which pleasure was wrung from you by that serpentine mouth. So you can only pretend to perform up to Isagi’s expectations.

But would Isagi even know where the clitoris is? Questions like this flit through your mind. Luckily for you, he doesn’t need much of a step-by-step guide.

Within the darkening ambiance of the rain, Isagi bites his lip, his gaze lingering on the anticipatory glisten of your core. And with an inhale in preparation, he leans in to taste you. The first heated touch is a kiss, you realize. His lips roll an ardent bite into your folds, giving you a taste of pleasure as he tastes you for the first time. Your fingers thread further into his locks as he shudders, tempted to drag him along you, but you let him ease into this.

Or that’s what you thought he was doing, at least. The taste ignites something deep within him. He pulls back to savor and take in your taste, his eyes growing heated. He swallows thickly, and as if you witnessed his deflowering like a switch, he lifts both of your legs over his shoulders to take hold of your hips from beneath you, and promptly buries his face into your heat to feast. His brows pull together tightly as he begins kissing and licking his tongue thickly between your folds in earnest, and your head drops back at his enthusiasm to get you to give him more to drink up. Heat continues to lick up your spine with each ministration he uses to explore your body. As if to glue you to him further, he keeps you pressed against him by wrapping his arms around you while he switches focus to licking and suckling on your little nub, essentially making out with it, mingling his spit and your slick into a mess.

And your noises spur him on, giving desperate hums of approval against your puffy bud in response as he enjoys you. Whilst juvenile in experience, the way he so earnestly savors eating you out with purpose amplifies your pleasure tenfold. Quickly, you can feel yourself getting close just from that. Seeing you approaching your peak, Isagi takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard.

The sudden pressure startles you, and you quickly pull his head up with a gasp. Held up by you, his tongue is almost hanging from his mouth, strings of your slick connecting to his lip, and his eyes drift half-lidded as if not all there.

“Yes…Ms. Sato…?” is all he can croak in question.

With a heavy huff of exasperation, you chide him, “Are you trying to eat me whole?”

The deep and somewhat delirious chuckle he lets out sends a defiantly pleasant feeling up your body. “Maybe… Did it feel good?”

Thinking on it, you concede a bit reluctantly. “I mean…I suppose…”

Knowing he struck gold, there’s no way he would forget this information. “Can I do it again?”

This kid, you breathe out a laugh in amusement. You ruffle his hair, something he grumbles against.

“Only if you build up to it again. Gently.”

The green light quickly makes up for it. Isagi brightens immediately, ready to show you he can do as you say. And he does. Once you’re splayed out on the bed with tears in your eyes from the intensity of the orgasm Isagi wrings out of you with the harshest suction to your clit you’ve ever experienced in your life, all you can do is stare up at your stagnant ceiling fan in shock. It stares mockingly back down at you like in a dream.

Still in the process of catching your breath, you push yourself up. The soothing circles rubbing into your thigh haven’t stopped. His face a mess, Isagi offers an apologetic smile.

“Are you okay, Ms. Sato?”

“Hah. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” You pull yourself up to grab a tissue on your nightstand as Isagi chuckles nervously. You return to him, take his face in hand, and wipe up your mess.

Isagi’s mouth goes dry, and he swallows, staring up at you with doe eyes as you take care of him. He doesn’t find the words to reply until you stop. “I just…never use spoons when I eat pudding cups.”

"Ah," you concede, a little concerned for future reference, before you stop yourself from thinking so far ahead. This is only for one night.

Truthfully, you didn't expect to come so early on in the night—or at all, for that matter—but being as you have, confidence swells in you at the wet slick between your thighs. The feeling makes you want to try to push your boundaries.

"Come up the bed with me, Isagi." You push back fully onto the bed, relieving Isagi of your legs. Isagi immediately follows after you, but you stop him with your foot. "On your back, please."

Adjusting course, Isagi nods and lies back against your pillows, his gaze never leaving you. Having just pleasured you, his body hasn’t stopped buzzing. But when you straddle his legs, his expression changes to one of confusion. Upon realizing what you're doing, he reaches for you. "Ms. Sato? You don't have to return the favor. I just wanted to do it."

You shake your head and take his hand to guide it to your waist instead. Smiling gently, you say, "I want to ride you, Yoichi." The shiver that runs through him is all the more apparent as you’re sitting on his lap.

He lies back down obediently. "Okay."

Isagi makes quick work of removing his uniform shirt while you undo his pants and slide them off of him. As his thick thigh muscles are revealed, you begin to understand how Isagi must've felt, for the urge to finally feel and knead the legs you've found yourself staring at before is great. Altogether, the moment feels familiar like a shameful dream, and you desire to take him in your mouth if not simply to feel the weight of him on your tongue. But you desire something else more, so you forego topping against your usual preferences.

Grazing your hands up his soft and heated skin, you watch Isagi struggle against his growing excitement.

Finally, you see him.

The length you felt in your hands a while ago stands erect, falling against his abdomen in an aching arch. Your excitement that had been dampened earlier begins to return at the sight of it; the best way to describe him would be average, in length and girth, but even though you know it will still make this difficult, he's noticeably smaller than what you've taken before, and that is a relief and makes your confidence feel more founded.

Just as you climb higher to seat yourself, a thought pops into your head like a needle to a balloon, and heat threatens to overtake your face. "Ah, I forgot a condom…" You can’t believe this. What are you, eighteen again?

"Oh," Isagi says and reaches over for his pants. He digs into one of the pockets, and you half expect another pack of candy, but a single boxed condom is procured instead. He holds it up for you to inspect. "I have one, don't worry."

You eye him, the corner of your mouth curling up. "This is what you bought when you ran off?"

Isagi's face, which has been a steady pink since he entered your room, became two shades deeper. He hangs his head and admits, "It is… I wanted to be prepared for you, just in case."

"Good job," you commend and take the liberty of opening the packet when Isagi seems to freeze and vibrate with the praise. He's like putty in your hands as you slide the condom down along the length of him. You begin to think this really won't last long when it kicks hard in your hand. You at least need it inside you first.

Isagi's hands fumble up your legs without knowing where to rest them as you adjust yourself on top of him. He settles on where your hips meet your ass, trembling while you guide his shaft from behind you. Your heat permeates the thin latex at his tip when it presses against your entrance. You both exhale sharply for different reasons.

Slowly and halfway, you begin to push the bulbous tip of him inside and then pause, something akin to a hiss sucking in through your teeth, before continuing, sitting down with it until you both prominently feel when the head pops inside. Your pelvic floor and Isagi's hands simultaneously tighten.

"Mngh…" you grunt at the feeling, the stinging branching up your nerves. You wait it out, holding onto his shoulders for support, trying everything to will your muscles to relax. You're wet. You're turned on. You don't understand. Maybe you should’ve grabbed the lubricant after all.

Effort furrows in your brow as you start to move ever so slowly to begin working onto him despite the burning protest of your body. It only serves to heighten the sinking feeling in your chest when you’re met with resistance.

The burn reaches a peak, and your muscles clamp down to stop him entirely, the squeeze unforgiving. You tighten up with it, both from your frayed nerves and emotion. Taking a deep breath, you prepare to push through despite it.

Before you can, however, Isagi stops you at your hips, reminding you that he's here. "If it hurts, Ms. Sato, you don't have to—"

"Stop it," you mutter lowly, hanging your head.

Concern flashes across Isagi's face. "Ms…Sato…?" He sucks in a breath at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. Panic sets in, and he moves to lift you off of him, but your hand to his chest presses him back down.

Shame takes root and blooms throughout you. You clench your teeth, your voice rising as you insist, “I can do this. I should be able to do this. I can be normal."

Not understanding, Isagi doesn't wait for an explanation and sits up again, taking you off of him with ease but keeping you in his lap, his legs crossed. "Ms. Sato."

You close your eyes tightly in response, unable to face him out of fear that your resolve will break like a dam that's been fortified over the years. How embarrassing; you've brought your employee here to your bed, and you've only made a fool out of yourself. How will you live this down? You'll have to fire—

"Ms. Sato, please look at me." Isagi coaxes you with a firm but gentle voice, stroking your back all the while. He sees you peek an eye open. "Hey… It's okay. I don't know what happened, but I don't want you to get hurt. If it hurts, tell me, and we don't have to do it."

His sense of care should be like a balm to an otherwise longstanding wound, but all it does is the opposite.

You break.

"But it always hurts." You cry with the admission, reduced to feeling like a child in his lap. Years of pain spill and flow from your eyes without cease, and you try to hide away into his shoulder, but he keeps you embarrassingly upright to glean some sort of understanding from your face.

"Always?" he asks carefully.

You nod, and a sob wrenches itself from where it’s been hidden in your chest all these years. He takes your wrists gently in his hand when you try to cover your face and takes you into his embrace.

"I want to do it…!" you cry defiantly, but it isn't a demand.

For a long while, he simply holds you and gives you the space to come undone in a different way. His heart trembles with every cry, and all he wishes for is to know how to give you the comfort you need right now.

Typing in the rest of his information, she accepts his credit card, and he has to keep himself from white-knuckling the countertop when their fingers brush each other not once but twice when she hands it back. His heart fully skips a beat when he notices she isn’t wearing a ring on her left hand.

“Alright, give me around thirty minutes. Is that okay? Or do you want to come back for them?”

Isagi shakes his head. It’s gotta take longer than that, he thinks. “I’ll wait, it’s no problem at all, really. Take your time.”

He has to reel himself in with a hand over his heart once she heads back to start on the bouquet. After a deep, centering breath, he fills his time by looking around the store. There’s a cooler with glass doors against the wall housing pre-made bouquets and shelves by the windows of potted plants and flora. He walks along the rows of metal shelves on the center floor showcasing baskets of fake flower arrangements for graves, he assumes.

A dinging notification catches his attention.

“Mm—” Isagi slips out his phone to see it isn’t his. Catching movement to his left, he’s able to peer inside the floral room where she’s standing. He instinctively moves to step out of sight to maintain her privacy, another flush of warmth rising to his cheeks, but stops when he sees the phone in her hand.

From this distance, he can’t make out the details but can see the opened messaging app. And she hasn’t responded. Her shoulders sit visibly slumped while she stares at the screen as if a dark cloud has appeared above her.

He could guess who it was from. The thought sours his mood in her stead. But he quickly gets back to looking around when she abruptly sighs and sets back to work. Passing in front of the counter again, he notices a paper and pen with something written down: “Part-timer wanted. Weekdays 1:00-5:00 p.m. Inquire for positions.”

His eyes glimmer.

Her sudden entrance with the bouquet catches him off guard. It’s only been twenty minutes. “Alright, it’s all done.” She puts on that same smile as before, proud of her work.

The sight of the full bouquet has him beaming. “Whoa—it looks amazing! Thank you for this. I uh…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I also noticed you’re looking for a part-timer.”

“Oh, are you interested?”

…

The interview for the position is done in the adjacent lunch room. A counter top lines the side wall, which holds a mini fridge and coffee machine that brews everything but.

You hand Isagi a matching black-cat mug of milk tea, fit with two ears pointing from the rim and green eyes painted below them, as you sit across from him at the table for two. His vase of lilacs and plum blossoms takes up most of the table space.

“Thank you,” he says softly, smiling at the cute mug before taking a sip. He hums in appreciation.

There’s been a soft yet unmistakable blush to his cheeks ever since he followed you to the back, and you’d be a fool not to notice the reaching behind his gaze the moment you met. It doesn’t help you either with how he sits into himself shyly yet filled out as if he’s had years of life beyond his young age, you assume just starting college. It makes you wonder what made him this way.

“Ah, may I remove this…?” Isagi reaches to slip off his open flannel shirt, and that’s when you notice the sweat on his collarbone.

“Oh, by all means. My apologies. I keep it kinda warm back here. I can turn it down if you’d like.”

Isagi shakes his head and continues with taking the flannel off, leaving him in his white t-shirt. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind.”

I do mind, you say in your head as your eyes flit over his exposed neck, down his broad shoulders, and his arms.

Still, you conduct the interview; your current employee will be leaving soon, and there aren’t many people lining up for your small shop. Should Isagi initiate anything unprofessional, you could simply fire him, you conclude.

The hard beat of your heart calls your bluff.

You clear your throat and hope the clarity reaches your head. “Alright. To start off, do you have any prior experience working at a flower shop?”

“Er, no…” Isagi scratches the back of his head. “But I watched a few documentaries on florists and floriculture before. A lot of effort and creativity goes into this specialization.” He smiles boyishly and scratches his chin with his index finger. “You’re so cool, Ms. Sato.”

“Really?” The effort is appreciated if you’re to believe him. “That’s sweet, thank you. The position doesn’t require you to make arrangements, but if you’re interested in it, I could teach you over time.”

“I’d love that!” Isagi says with a determination that surprises you.

You smile and then continue. “You’d mainly be up front to take orders, and that includes over the phone. The front and back of the building need to remain clean too, but I usually sweep since I’m the one making most of the mess—”

“I can clean it all, Ms. Sato.” Isagi nods emphatically, and you can’t stop your mind from taking his words in a different light.

You mentally chide yourself and sweep the thoughts under the rug while you write in your notebook.

“And as for transportation,” you change topics.

“Ah, I don’t live far, actually. I could even walk here with no problem.”

You nod and write some more down. “Alright. And I’m sure you read the flier, but the shifts are from one to five on the weekdays. You won’t have to help me close, but you’d need to make sure you clean the desk before leaving your station. Will this get in the way of any schooling?”

“Er, no, it’ll be completely fine. I only stayed for one year…” Isagi says a bit reluctantly but quickly amends it by saying, “But I can start as soon as tomorrow—or right now if you need a hand.”

“Can you write your number here?” You hand over the notebook and pen to him, which he takes with a slight bow of his head, slightly dejected.

“Of course.” He hands it back to you when he’s done.

You nod. “Don’t worry about today. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Ms. Sato.”

You watch him take his vase of flowers and flannel over his shoulder before he leaves. It’s only when the bell hanging over the front door signals that you look down at your name tag. It only reads your first name.

With a sigh, the weight of social interaction finally slips from the corners of your mouth, and you stand to return to the next room over to work on the bouquet you had previously.

“Sorry I’m late, Ms. Sato!” Your current part-time employee, Mei, startles you before you can step out the door.

“Ah, that’s alright,” you say, patting over your heart. “It wasn’t busy.”

“That guy had a pretty big bouquet. You did it this morning?” Mei asks as she settles her things down.

You look over to the window absentmindedly as if he’d be there if you looked. “Yes. But it wasn’t bad. Only lilacs and plum blossoms with some fillers.”

Mei whistles. “He must like someone.”

Her words give you pause before you resume your way back to the floral room. “You think so?”

“First,” Mei starts as she tidies her space at the front counter, “he’s buying flowers. It’s for someone. Second, flower language of course. He’s totally got a crush on somebody. Maybe he’s confessing today? Oh—” She notices the hiring flier. “Do you want me to hang this up on the door?”

You stare blankly at the in-progress bouquet of yellow hyacinths on the wooden table. “Ah, no, that’s okay. We actually don’t need it anymore.”

…

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Sato! I promise I won’t be late next time!”

You wave Mei goodnight at the door before locking up for the evening.

You’ve called the second story of the flower shop your home for the past eight years since you bought the place. After cleaning around the store, you make your way to the lunch room where the stairs lie hidden behind the back wall.

You stop at the table when you see the cat mugs of tea still sitting there, and memories of the interview spill back into your mind while you spill the cups into the sink.

“He’ll be a good addition…” you speak aloud to yourself in the dim silence. The words themselves don’t drown out or convince the weird feelings from the day any more than you. But you still try. “He’s strong, so he can lift and carry things I can’t. He’s friendly and polite… so… he’ll be good with customers.”

The convincing follows you up the stairs.

You click the door closed behind you with a sigh and are immediately hit with a familiar voice.

“You can’t just leave the air conditioner on, can you? Tch...”

Ice shoots down your spine. You rush a hand up to flip on the lights to reveal the empty apartment. The memory melts away as soon as it arrives, and relief takes its place.

It’s been over a year since you divorced your husband, and the whale fall has yet to clear, you suppose.

“Divorcing him was good for you. Twenty-eight is still young,” you hear your friend group’s words in mind.

Yes. It was for the best.

“You didn’t need him anyway. He had it made but still mooched off of you.”

“We tried to tell you. Nothing good would come from him, at least not long term.”

“Men like him don’t know how to settle down. You’d think rich would stay with rich, but no.”

You swat the thoughts away and trudge into the kitchen, feeling heavier now from the day. It’s true that you wanted for nothing. The perks of being born into a wealthy family meant you could pursue your love of flowers however you saw fit. It also meant you could settle down whenever, and that you did.

Setting a pot to boil, you warm your hands over the rising heat. Even though the air conditioner is set so high it rarely comes on, you still catch chills so easily.

The heat hugging your hands reminds you of the way he used to complain, but those thoughts slowly replace with those of a flannel being removed politely.

“Ah, I’m hot…”

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