Archive of Our Own ^beta

Across the bed spilled a river of sakura blossom petals, all soft and pink in the candlelight, contrasting sharply with the typical darkness that shrouded his room. His lips fluttered over the nape of her neck, unable to stem his desire upon witnessing the flush of her skin, the fluid joy at the corners of her cosmic eyes. 

Everything he loved in one room.

It wasn't the first time he’d thought such a thing. Every time Momo was in his private space like this, the only place he’d ever been able to be himself until she pulled him into the light of her sun, he wanted to pledge himself to her. Swearing fealty with his mouth, whispering oaths into her neck, sliding his fingers through her hair to the strong beat of her irrepressible heart.

Momo was almost overwhelmed with longing. To finally face what she’d been avoiding since she met this sweet, thoughtful, brave, resilient boy. To press kiss after kiss into his face, on every inch of him until he realized what she was trying to show him without words.

And so, that’s exactly what she did.

Hands reaching up, she curled seeking fingers over his ears, smirking proudly when her boy moaned and nuzzled further into her neck at the contact. So, his ears were definitely sensitive. She would absolutely be taking advantage of that fact.

Then he sucked her earlobe into his hot mouth and bit down—

“Oh fuck, Ken,” she whimpered. Okay, so maybe they were both sensitive there.

Hearing his name made something surge within him, dark and molten, super-heating his veins and causing his pants to get that much tighter.

Possession. God, he wanted to make her say it again. To cry out for him, because of him–nobody else. All his.

And he was a filthy, undeserving animal for thinking it, but it filled him with such warmth and yearning. She wasn't a prize to be won, but he had won her nonetheless. Now he had to keep her; safe, happy, satisfied, full of him and completely cognizant of what that would mean to him—how it meant fucking everything.

Of course, he belonged to her. Regardless of how long she allowed him to stroke and behold her beauty, he would always belong to her. Waiting at her beck and call, desperate to please her, to offer her his everything. His whole life had led to this moment and he could not fuck it up.

Her boy went willingly, putty in the palm of her hand, when she tilted his mouth up into a kiss. She delved, and at his needy moan (rumbling through his chest, pressed tight to her breasts while his fingers locked on to her hips feverishly), Momo dove deeper; marking the inside of his mouth, pressing hard and deep so that he would never forget her touch.

“So good, Momo,” he whimpered when they separated to gasp, heaving in air between more questioning kisses, “Momo, god, you're so fucking beautiful.” She stuck her tongue in his mouth again for that, and what followed was wet, almost wild as they clutched each other, biting down into lips and purposefully grinding their bodies between them.

Fuck, he'd really gotten the hang of kissing. Momo felt lightheaded, a little overwhelmed–but in that way where you know you want more. Where it's scary but you know you can take it, that the end result is worth the bravery.

Snaking her hand down slowly, teasingly over his flushed neck, down his chest and soft abdomen–she found her target. The metal of his belt buckle, which she toyed with, fingers pinching the waist band of his slacks and tugging his need into her. Ken groaned into her mouth, and she snapped up each muffled breath, distracting him with nips to his tongue, his lips.

Then she cupped him through his pants and he shuddered convulsively, bucking against her palm while his forehead fell to rest upon her shoulder and he whined into her sweater. Those long, artist's fingers dug into her through her skirt, holding her in place fervently. 

Ken was afraid to move.

If he moved, if he fucking breathed, she'd realize what she was doing, or more specifically, who she was doing it with. She may stop touching him, and based on the lack of blood flowing to his brain, that might actually kill him. He'd die if she suddenly pushed him away, his heart would give out for sure, to be rebuffed by someone he loved so much.

“H- how do you, ohhfuck,” he whimpered, nose buried in her hair as his lips caressed the skin visible beyond her open shirt collar, “I want you so much, Momo. I wanna make you feel good.” Biting down (perhaps harder than he should have), Ken moaned in chorus with her, flesh worried between his teeth. He released, moving up, panting as his lips brushed the cartilage of her ear again and made her shiver pleasantly, “Please, tell me what you want. Anything, whatever you want, I'll do it. Tell me where you want me, Momo?”

With the hand still hooked pleasantly over his ear, tenderly scratching her nails on his scalp, his girlfriend directed him to her mouth. She tasted like pure, sugared lust and the yakisoba sandwich she'd gotten at the school store today, and while she shivered in his grip, he moved into the slow, sensual slide of tongues that would burn the sense memory into his mouth, his teeth.

The moments spent luxuriating in her glorious kiss were long and filled with tiny moans sounding from the backs of otherwise occupied throats, short and staggered intakes of breath that shook between their lips as they shared these few seconds.

He could sleep each night between the bow of her lips. He loved her more than life itself, and with every slow pass of lips and hands upon her flesh, Ken felt like he was drowning in the syrupy cascade of emotion. Drifting further from the shores of reality, he could shout, he would scream her name—and it would be for her ears only.

She could listen to his quiet breathing and honeyed moans for eternity, tucked gently into the crook of his neck and arms, inundated by his delicacy and wonderment. The burning skin beneath her touch screamed yes, the press of his lips to hers begged for her to make it true.

Was that love? Did she really love this nerd–this irrefutably kind, generous, and adoring boy that offered to show her what love was meant to be? Who showed her every day how forgiveness felt, and shared the things he loved with her ecstatically and without reservation?

With the hand gently caressing his bulge, Momo shifted to his belt buckle again, pulling the end of the strap loose agonizingly slowly while her boy gasped into her kiss. 

“Take it off?” she asked, before pulling his lip into her mouth with a gentle suck that left him reeling. Wrenching his fumbling digits out of the folds of her skirt, he took over on his belt buckle, undoing it hastily and sloppily–only getting the leather halfway out before it got stuck and he had to fiddle embarrassingly with the clasp as she distracted him further with her kiss. He whined in frustration at himself.

But Momo’s fingers brushed his hands away gently and deftly pulled metal loose from the strap. Her boyfriend groaned thankfully and bracketed her cheeks with his long digits, delightfully dragging over her ears as he sucked on her tongue.

The button unclasped so easily then, and the tension on his erect cock was steadily becoming unbearable. But her fucking fingers slid up over twitching muscle hidden beneath the soft skin of his stomach– pinching and rucking the hem of his uniform shirt out of his pants before those turquoise fingernails danced upon each button and, holyyyyyy shiiiiiit, he wanted to fall onto his knees and press his face where her thighs met.

As far as he was concerned, Momo was made to be adored. And he planned to spend the whole night showing her his dedication to that, practically mortaring it in place as a load bearing pillar to his earthly values.

Hesitantly, Ken's hand migrated down to swoop teasingly inside the collar of her sweater, dragging slowly down her neck, over the marks that were becoming more visible as he brushed off the foundation she’d so carefully patted on. “Can I see?” he asked, barely breathing before leaning in to capture her lips again.

With fingers scraping delectably beneath his uniform, sending gooseflesh up and down from her every point of contact, she nodded and then adjusted the tilt of their necks, hands leaving their warm cave between his shirt and the sparse curls of hair on his abdomen (which, oh shit, she really wanted to chart each strand with her fingers, maybe even her tongue) to clutch the hem of her sweater—

“Wait,” Ken interrupted, his fingers racing down the curves of her body (her breasts, her ribs–oh fuck–) “God, let me?” Fingers clasped within hers, he softly untangled the thick fabric from her grip and began the work of removing it himself.

It was unimaginably hot (though it was real–he was really fucking here with her, touching her); both of his palms sliding over the thin button down she wore, pushing up her sweater with ease while he stared at her mouth, his coffee brown eyes hazy and hooded. Huffs of quickened breath blew happily into her face, and she watched her boy’s expression morph into wonder and concentration as his large hands finally cupped her tits, still hidden beneath the pink fabric, now covering half of his forearm.

He was so gorgeous in the candlelight, and she was the only one who got to see him like this; how his glossy gaze hyper focused on his task, the jump of his fingertips when she would hiss or sigh–he catalogued each sound and filed it away for future reference, studying her like language, like science, like religion. As though the history between them could be analyzed and she could still come out at the end being worthy of his affection.

Reaching down, Momo palmed his erection once more, feeling the sharp twitch of the organ bump into her hand.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, mouth falling open and eyes slamming shut like he couldn’t bear it any longer. Momo felt a bolt of longing shoot down her spine and between her legs at how undone he seemed over such a small and simple act–one they’ve even done before. With the slightest squeeze, his long thumbs sweeping at the front of her breasts and searching hopefully for an as-yet hardening peak, Ken tipped back into her mouth and moaned beautifully when she slipped her tongue against his.

Intently, he explored her lips, her teeth, until his moving hands met resistance and they had to separate to pull the sweater over her head. It got caught on her oblong earrings, and Ken had to carefully extract the fabric from the earring backing before her boyfriend helped her pull one arm free, then the other. Their eyes met, blushing and a little embarrassed by the hold up.

Small, awkward giggles burst from their lungs, immediately followed by more deep kisses. Momo’s sweater fell to the floor, and Ken’s large, distracting hands moved again to her ribs, exerting the slightest pressure to pull her closer.

She didn’t even notice that they were near his bed, and then she was suddenly on top of him (in a much more suave motion than she’d been expecting), the cool slip of sakura petals beneath her knees, her shins–crushed under flattened hands that held her upright. Those distracting fingers of his had slipped underneath her skirt at some point, wrapped around the backs of her thighs as he pulled and seated her right over his hips.

The pulse of his cock was dizzying, rocking itself uncontrollably into the wet seam of her body, causing a moan to shoot out of her throat and into his through their connected mouths. Gods, she moved without thinking, the trail of his fingertips tight and reverent upon her hips, over her panties and back down to trace the wide muscle of her legs.

Momo couldn’t fucking concentrate, especially as she could feel his slacks having been shoved halfway down his hips by her weight alone. His need was poking out of the zip, covered only by his woefully stretched-thin boxers. Desire suffused every inch of her body, and she could not squeeze her legs together to soothe the burn (spread out as they were on either side of his), so she ground onto that hard, desperate part of him instead.

And she saw the fucking stars.

Ken had intended to slow things down a bit, to unwrap her slowly and lovingly, paying special attention to whatever soft parts of her that she allowed him to see, to taste and touch with devotion and quiet reverence. But as her searing pussy (separated only by the slimmest layers of fabric–she was so wet already, ohfuckfuck–) rolled into his dick, those ideas were thrown to the floor of his bedroom, where his shirt would soon join them because he had to fucking feel her skin or he’d perish.

Fumbling with the buttons, his fingers ached to be back on her lovely thighs, to grab handfuls of her ass and jerk her onto the ridge of his erection until he found fucking nirvana.

With his uniform only half undone, he nearly goddamn did when her delicate hands skated on the skin of his stomach, wending their way through his happy trail and then down–holy shit, down—

She angled him up and his fingers twisted in the few buttons that remained, his head thrown back and tearing his lips off of hers. Jesusfuckingchrist, he knew he was making noise–it was probably super embarrassing. Groans and whimpers alongside her name, clawing and shaking their way out of his hyperventilating chest. It just felt so fucking good, and he was about to shatter completely tucked against her.

Her bitten lips trapped Momo’s own whimpers as she pushed again onto her boyfriend’s twitching cock, the sudden buck sending him into her clit as he gasped and moaned with her attention. While he was lost in his head, she threaded the buttons out from their holes with her free hand (the other grasping his bouncing shaft, determinedly keeping him in place while she whined and gasped atop him, ‘god, stay right there–ohhhhshit, Ken–’)

Shoving the shirt open, the girl could see the barest hint of definition on his pectorals, and her fingernails scratched oh-so carefully over his shuddering chest. Lingering on the hickey she’d planted on his collarbone, a pleased smirk floated over her countenance before she struck–lips landing on that very same spot while he bucked harder beneath her skirts. His hands were pawing at her stomach, her waist, her skirt–

Fuck. Shit. Ohhhhgod.

Ken was gonna fucking lose it at this rate. Her nails on his skin, her teeth sucking the beloved cluster of marks back into her mouth, the crush of her hot fucking cunt on the underside of his dick, bumping gloriously on his cockhead… he couldn’t breathe. He was going to embarrass the shit out of himself and ruin his pants and her uniform and—god fucking help him, he wanted to ruin her uniform so bad.

But he so desperately needed her to cum first.

Hands on her face, guiding her lips back to his and then firmly shifting to her shoulders, he rolled them over, all of his insignificant mass acting as a fulcrum for his body to lie between Momo’s legs. Unable to stop himself, he continued to move, hips slowly rocking him into her center, all while he groaned and sucked down the whimpers in her throat.

A particularly enthusiastic thrust misplaced his erection, and he was probably embarrassingly humping the crease of her thigh more than where he wanted to be, but Momo’s fingers found his length again and pressed him to rest between the clothed lips of her pussy. Godfuck, her skirt was hiked up around her waist, there was almost nothing between them—and she was. So. Fucking. Wet.

That fact had him blue screening and moaning into her mouth for a few seconds, feeling the liquid heat of her through their abysmally thin undergarments. Crap, that felt too good.

He scarcely managed to pull his focus back up to her buttons; holyshit, there were only a few in place still–whenever the fuck that had happened? Had he? Still rocking against her, within her hand, he disregarded the feverish questions, sliding long fingers beneath the fabric. 

Those fingers met bra; a lacy thing, something meant to be appreciated, to be commented on and adored, possibly even photographed and memorized at a later date–for his girlfriend had obviously put thought into this moment. He was waaaay beyond that, though, and shoved the cups up over her tender flesh–barely noting the pink on pink swirls (fucking pink, it was his favorite goddamn color now.) Plucking at her hardened nipples, he traded her moans for his own gasps, teeth meeting dangerously in the middle as they fervently nipped and delved, taking from each other while his cock pulsed again between her thighs–between her—

Tearing his mouth away from those gorgeous lips, he grabbed at her sides and kissed his way down, taking a moment to swirl his tongue around the rosy tip of her breast, which caused her to hiss in a way that nearly had him cum on the spot. Quickly, he backed himself away from her center (she whined and he nearly jumped right back to her wonderful warmth–so desperate to make her feel good, even if he was about to embarrass the shit out of himself.)

“You’re so beautiful, Momo,” he mumbled around her tit, suckling hard and fiddling with the untouched side with one hand. With his other hand grasping her thigh eagerly, he edged upward until his fingers met her skirt between them. Shoved up as it was, he teased the lace edge of her underwear, just barely peeking beneath with his fingertip, slickly sliding deliciously where her thigh met her pelvis.

At least he’d managed to move his hips away, so he didn’t come in his pants like a fucking loser from the incredible stimulation.

Tugging ever so gently on the fabric between them, Ken looked up at her face. Initially he was dazzled by the candlelight, reflected as it was on the frosted turquoise earrings that moved any time she did. But finally he met those blown-wide eyes over a pair of open lips that he wanted to ravish in more ways than one. Wanted her full of him; his cock, his tongue, his fingers–he needed to feel the heat of her wet tongue on every inch of his body while he followed suit.

“Take them off?” he breathed, fucking begged, her wet and swollen nipple waiting beneath his lips as he entreated his girl. God, he had to make her feel good, or all of this would be for absolutely nothing. What kind of boyfriend would he be otherwise? A piss poor one, that was certain.

He just had to taste her before he shuffled off this mortal coil for the last time. Just once–

Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? He’d sleep between her legs just for the chance to feast upon her folds every day. Ken could worship her skin, bury himself inside her thighs, leave small pieces and marks of himself along her walls, imprinted in her muscle so she never forgot how he felt.

Fuck. The desire swimming in what remained of his soil-brown gaze–overtaken nearly entirely by dark, lightless pools of heat–made her pussy throb and clench on nothing as she rocked up to try and chase the hard ridge of him. Momo felt empty. He was so fucking close, and all he needed was her word– she knew that she only had to suggest something and he would dive into her request with wild abandon, face first and heart open.

Unable to form coherent thought besides want and need and pleasegoddoitnow, she nodded, eyes locked onto his as that disbelieving smile crawled across his face. He wasn’t even blushing, he just looked awed and inspired and so in lov—

Ken’s fingers suddenly pressed down on either side of her hips–pinching the elastic and pulling her panties down her thighs, over her knees, coasting over restlessly moving calves until they hung only upon one ankle (still in her fucking socks, oh god, hopefully he didn’t notice–)

Suddenly, her man was laving open mouthed kisses down her ribs, over the mounds of her stomach, even resting briefly on her bellybutton. It was mildly ticklish, and she jolted in surprise. He mumbled an apology before soothing firmer kisses in his wake (though he certainly didn’t look sorry.)

Of course Momo knew where he would end up. She’d dreamed of it. He’d told her he wanted to taste her, to lick her in her most sensitive and secret area, and it had fucking haunted her ever since.

It was terrifying.

His lips landed on the curve of her lower stomach, nearly to her pubic mons—and she clamped her thighs over his shoulders in a blind panic.

Freezing within her grasp, Ken tore his nearly single-minded focus away from the heated, dripping part of her that was just out of reach (he’d waited so long and wanted so much–) and peered gently at his girlfriend. With flushed, lovely skin, she hid from him behind her small hands, the turquoise (Sotek Green, perhaps) of the enamel on her nails in sharp contrast with her blush.

“Momo? Are you okay?” Ken whispered into her skin, hands already reaching out to hold her shaking thighs, thumbs sweeping slow, soothing patterns into their plushness.

“I just–” shitshitshit, Aira was right, she was a fucking coward. “I just need a second,” she croaked behind her fingers, attempting to even out her breathing.

“You can take as long as you want, Momo,” he assured her, still rubbing her skin as softly as possible. Placing small, adoring kisses into her abdomen, he continued, “We don’t have to go any further. We can do something else, we can even stop if that would help.” 

Every nerve inside her body rioted at the idea of stopping cold, even though the terror and uncertainty still clutched at the marrow of her bones. Her boy sounded so assured and somehow controlled, like it wouldn’t bother him in the least, even though she could feel the tremors in his fingertips where he traced along her legs.

God, she was so stupid!

She’d showered today– she knew that she was clean. But what if there was still a smell? Or was her hair weird? Was he just being nice before, on Sunday in her Granny’s dusty garage? Fuck, what—what if it tasted bad?!

Seeing the turmoil quickly growing in a petrified pink swirl, Ken called out to her quietly, “Momo. Momo, it’s okay. Let me go and we can stop.” It would be painful, it would break his heart, it would utterly tear what little of his self-esteem still existed to tatters. But he’d do anything. It had to be good for her. It had to.

Unhearing, lost in her sudden and inescapable concerns with personal hygiene and the mysteries of having a goddamn vagina, the young woman didn’t respond. In fact she started breathing faster. He had to snap her out of it, but he could hardly move, her hold on his shoulders was so strong and unyielding. Ken knew a spiral when he saw one, and he’d be damned if he watched her drown in anxiety–nobody deserved that, least of all Momo.

She felt the shock of teeth on her hipbone–a nip to her skin that pulled her right out of her head.

“Ah! What the hell–”

“Momo,” the man still locked between her thighs intoned seriously, carefully kissing the purple mark where he’d bitten her, and it burned, the syrupy sensation blooming outward from his mark in such a tender place, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t–fuck, I didn’t know how to pull you out. Are you here? Are you okay? We can stop, I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to.”

Holy shit, did she want to, though. Momo realized now that she wanted it far more than it scared her, and as she balled up her desire and the pulsing need inside of her, she found her courage once again.

Her legs snapped around his neck, and she ground against his face, cutting off any more absurd protests as a surprised groan was expelled heavily into her entrance instead. 

With his round glasses awkwardly tilted, nearly up to his forehead in her fervor (and, jesusfuckingchrist, he loved that fire, loved seeing that need in her—because it was always burning through him, too–), he inhaled her strong, musky scent and shuddered on the exhale.

Fuck, why had they waited so long to try this?

Ken’s tongue was instantly drawn into the embrace of her cunt, wet and hot as hell. The flavor was more intense than it had been secondhand off of their fingers–he was fucking drowning in her and, holyshit, he’d never wanted so badly to suffocate.

The tang that coated his mouth was exactly as he’d dreamed and remembered while fisting his leaking cock for her last night. Ken had never really been a believer in spiritual matters–the science just wasn’t there. But as every fucking neuron in his brain lit up, he was absolutely sure that he’d found some kind of faith in the goddess that was allowing him to sample her sweet juices—fuuuckkk, he wanted her running down his chin. Wanted her trembling with the force of his efforts, insensate and twitching after he made her cum again and again.

He’d devour her.

Ken wanted to swallow every whimper and moan, wanted to reach inside her with his tongue, his fingers, his fucking heart. This would be enough; if he could eat her out every fucking day of his life, he’d be fine–he’d be overjoyed. A life of worship didn’t seem so bad.

To be her zealot, to rest at the bottom of her ocean of pleasure, to feel the rough rocking of her body against his fucking mouth–he’d do anything for it. If oral was her command, then he’d follow and be her most devout apostle. Ken wanted to guide her to the top of every mountain of sensation, and shove her lovingly over the edge of each one, only to catch her deftly in the valley below–soothed by his kisses and his promises as he fucked her softly with his mouth.

Upon the first suck of her labia between his lips, Momo was lost. Biting into the flesh between her thumb and her index finger, into the meat of her goddamn hand, she groaned and bucked into his adoring tongue. It was so unlike her hand or toy. His mouth was wet, and so fucking warm! He could suck part of her into his mouth and when he did it to her pussy lips she almost keened.

Her other hand was stuck in his silky hair, twined over strands and holding him where she fucking needed him–and with the slightest tug, a drawn out moan or growl would wrestle from between his nibbling teeth.

Hissing as he sucked too hard on her sensitive clitoris, Momo shoved his head back just an inch or so, and he froze solid. “Shit. Sorry, not good? Tell me, I’ll do better, please,” his voice cracked adorably in his worry, even though he still looked dazed by his close proximity to her genitals.

“Just… a little gentler? There. Uhhh,” sonofabitch, why was talking about what felt good and what didn’t so hard? What if she ruined the mood? Was she supposed to just be happy that he was willing to do this at all? It felt good, mostly, she should just shut up and—

“Please,” he whispered, looking at her over the mound of her cunt with dark, hungry eyes, “Just tell me what you like. L-let me try again?” Okarun was breathing like he’d just gotten done running up the stairs, but his gaze was determined.

Giving the barest hint of a nod, she shifted her hands in his hair, simply resting on his head.

Slowly, he approached once more, the puffs of lustful breath expelled against her vulva were shockingly warm. Holding her gaze (she closed her eyes, fuck, it was too much to see him down there–)

A pinch on the outside of her thigh made her jump and she looked down at her boy again.

“I know… it’s–fuck, it’s hard, r-right?” Ken’s voice was coarse, almost a growl, and she could feel his lips brush her labia, ever so slightly as he spoke directly to her goddamn pussy. “To, uh, say what you w–want,” he continued, maintaining that intense eye contact as he pressed a chaste kiss above her lips (there’s nothing fucking chaste about that what the absolute fuck–), “Can you tell me… in some other way?”

Licking her lips, she finally looked away, shamed by her lack of input. Such a fucking coward.

Moving one of his hands from her leg and up to cover the one on his head, Ken whispered, “H-how about… th–this?” Then he fisted their fingers, entwining them within his soft locks, “Uhm, y–you can pull me. Er! If you want to!” 

Shit, he really hoped she wanted to. Not just because he was suddenly super turned on at the thought of her pulling his hair, but because he wanted so badly to learn what she enjoyed. He’d dreamed of making her cum with his mouth. And he’d do everything in his power to make that happen, but that was only possible if he wasn’t left in the dark, fumbling virgin that he was.

Meeting his serious, pleading gaze, she sucked in a fortifying breath and nodded. The nervous (but obviously excited, jesuschrist) smile that flooded his face with visible relief helped her relax minutely. Feeling a little bolder, she tugged him closer to her center by the hair.

Ken’s eyes fell shut and he moaned, long and loud, and his tongue came back into contact with her wetness.

Starting with a few broad, slow licks between her labia, he then swirled his tongue over the sensitive bud at the top of her pussy. When her fingers tightened in his hair and he wasn’t shoved off, he carefully increased the pressure upon it, trying firm motions for several seconds before switching to fast flicks.

Thighs clamped suddenly around his head and he could have pumped a fist in triumph (if they weren’t both occupied with massaging said thighs, of course). His girl’s hips jerked into his face and he moaned, loudly and purposely this time, so that she could know a little of what she did to him. How his cock was leaking in his boxers; they had to be ruined by now, there was probably a fucking wet spot on the bed just from his helpless gyrations.

Okay. Suction. He could do this, just… just start slow.

The whimper that eked out between his girlfriend’s fingers when he mouthed tenderly at her clit, sucking slightly and releasing before resuming the pattern—well, it filled him with a burning pride, stoking his lust even brighter within him. He could make her feel good, and her hand twisted in his ink-black hair was proof enough that she was feeling good. As her hips wiggled, rolling her clit harder into his mouth, he increased the pressure- only a little.

Then ground his hips hard into the bed when she moaned and threw her head back against the pillow. Yes. Humming in elation, Ken renewed his delicate efforts, breaking the lip lock on the tiny bundle of nerves when she gasped, and began to switch between the slow lapping of her cunt with his tongue and sucking her clit until she moaned and pulled on him.

Momo felt powerful. Even though just a few seconds ago she’d been unconfident, frightened– now she was in charge, desperately directing Ken to her pleasure. She likened it to how a queen must feel, as though she controlled his body and actions, held his livelihood and future in her hands (and that future lay between her legs.)

And though she didn’t know what to do with that heady, overwhelming notion, it was obvious that her boyfriend had some ideas, at the very least.

The large hands and fingers that had been latched around her thighs, squeezing into her chubby thickness with a goddamn will, suddenly shifted down to grip her ass. It made her jump, and then, while he sucked her clit between his teeth and she hollered in startlement, he lifted her up ably. Squarely, he slotted her against his chin, his swirling tongue. The fast-paced, breathy moans that blasted out from his nose into her pubic hair while he worked left her lightheaded and trembling. Barely holding back increasingly loud groans of pleasure.

Oh god, she tasted like divinity. He was nothing, a fucking peasant, and he got to service her within her temple, upon her throne, to experience the pressure of her around his goddamn head. Momo could crush him and he’d thank her for it–she could smother him in the lips of her pussy and he’d write epic poems about her in the afterlife—he’d fight the god of the underworld and swim across the River Styx just to come back and do it all over again.

As she soaked his lips with her arousal, he sucked her labia into his mouth once more, allowing her engorged clit a rest. Plump, soft, comfortable upon his tongue. Able to get a much better (and closer, holy shit, she was so close–) look at her glistening vagina, Ken noted the dark hair. Interestingly, a darker shade than the hair on her head, not sparse, but not exactly bushy either–though he suspected it wouldn't have bothered him either way. So long as Momo was offering, he'd sink in between her legs with devotion and desperation regardless.

So beautiful. So fucking gorgeous. All his.

With renewed vigor, he assailed her cunt with ardor and burning need. Biting and suckling at her in equal measure. His fingers were suddenly inside her (more than one! Two! Maybe even three!), in front of his chin as he pulled her clit between his incisors and so tenderly bit down. The experiment was a huge success, if her yell and the bliss-inducing tug on his hair (followed by the hottest, longest moan he’d ever fucking heard) was anything to go off of.

Futilely, Ken ground his erection into the bed spread, feeling the amount of precum that had dribbled from his cock with the slide of the fabric. It wasn’t enough. He needed to taste her orgasm, needed to swallow it. Needed to nurse her through it, to french kiss her over-warm cunt until she came down—and then until he could push her back up once more.

Twice more.

Just… more. As many times as she’d let him.

Releasing her indented skin from the bite of her own teeth, Momo keened. God, if she had another few minutes of this she was sure that she’d experience the best orgasm of her fucking life, that he’d figure out how to fucking shatter her with only his lips and tongue. Her veins already felt alive with television static, her fingertips numb with pleasure.

But that sounded fucking embarrassing and there was something coiling in her gut that told her it wasn’t enough.

That right now, she needed to feel him.

Pulling gently upon his hair and his shirt collar, fisted as it was in her other hand–then harder as Ken did not respond, she tugged the wet-faced man away from her aching center, gasping and trying to keep her voice as steady as possible, “Need you. Please, want you inside me.” There was no sexy way to say it, she bemoaned privately. Was that sexy? Like some boudoir porno mag?

This seemed to snap him out of it, and his eyes cleared somewhat, revealing their nearly black depths, “Fuck… are you—a- are you sure?”

“Ohgod, Okarun,” Momo cried, hands cupping his cheeks and leading him up her chest slowly. He moaned at his name, like it was a spell that she cast over him, hips working weakly in the air for a moment as he was inundated with lust again. “Ken, please, I’m sure. I want it, want you,” she assured him, eyes following the quick dart of his tongue over his glistening lips. Shit.

But then he shuffled back, despite the grip of her strong thighs around his midsection and the tentative push of his dick right where she fucking wanted him—

Momo could have sobbed. She wanted to, awash so suddenly and coldly by rejection. God, she’d pushed too hard, she should have fucking asked! She knew that she was too much–

The slide of a drawer ripped her back into clarity, where Ken was leaning awkwardly to the side and rummaging in his nightstand. Humming in triumph, he held out his prize: a small bottle of clear, personal lubricant.

“Is this okay? I-I—fuck, I don’t wanna hurt you,” he mumbled feverishly. In answer, Momo pushed his open button down off his shoulders, captivating him with her lips while she slipped the shirt over his thin arms. God, she could taste herself on his tongue again. She needed him naked, like, yesterday.

Dropping the bottle of lube, Ken rushed to comply with her wishes. More skin to skin contact was good–ohhhhholyshit, how he wanted her. He wanted to wrap her around him and sink into her warmth, to meld their flesh as one, to create something new and fantastic together.

Once the uniform was gone, his girlfriend (his beautiful, spontaneous, amazing goddamned girlfriend!) pushed almost shyly at his boxers and pants–barely hanging on to his slim hips as it was. And who was he to deny her anything she fucking asked of him?

Quickly shucking out of his (embarrassingly damp) underwear and trousers, Ken took a chance and reached for the clasp of her skirt, whimpering and with a wavering voice, “Wanna see you, too. Momo, please–”

She crashed into his chest, nipping at his neck and coaxing a whine from him, leaning up and wrestling her way out of her own shirt and unclasping her earrings while he took her silent permission and unhooked the side of her school skirt, pulling it down her ample waist and hips with shaking breaths.

When he looked back up, she was completely nude.

Like him.

Vulnerable. Completely bare, this time without a computer screen and miles between their hungry eyes and famished hands and mouths.

Nervousness threatened both of them, the tremble of inexperience wracking their limbs as they stared, open mouthed and hopeful. Terrified gazes darted shyly (though unceasingly) across each peak and valley, each plane of hardness and softness, through groves of soft hair–taking it all in as though it may be their last chance.

Ken was afraid of fucking it up. Of hurting the woman he loved more than anything else. Of being terrible and getting laughed at–because that was just how his whole fucking life worked, and it would kill him to have it work that way with her.

Momo worried about taking advantage of this kind, forgiving man before her. She wanted him, maybe even loved him–or was fast approaching such feelings. And she couldn’t hurt him again. He deserved everything, and she wanted so badly to give it to him, to make his face light up like she was the gift and not a burden of guilt.

Tentatively, her fingertips skated over the scattered freckles that dotted his skin, more plentiful as they were upon his shoulders and his neck–tracing a path as though she could chart the constellations of his body and commit the stars that made up his soul to memory.

He shook beneath her careful caress, those artist’s fingers she frequently admired clasping around her hand, holding her fast to the thump thump thump of his racing heart. Ken laced them together, his whole chest reddened with the obvious anxiety she could see practically pooling in his gaze.

Naturally, their eyes wandered down, truly taking in the other in full—which earlier had been seeking gazes sipping from gilded cups, but never swallowing. Not comprehending the reality that they nurtured in that moment. It was so like a dream.

Until, as a lush oasis in an apathetic wasteland, his eyes could gulp her down forever; until he was too full, until he was sick with just how much of her beauty now lived inside of him.

Momo blushed, eyes catching on each cluster of birthmarks, wanting to press her skin (her lips) to them. Perhaps they could transfer like the fresh ink he smelled of? A permanent reminder of this night together, of how their bodies would interlock, how their emotions would connect–painted forever on each of their bodies, matching tattoos as a symbol of what it meant.

Held breath and the twitch of muscle and nerves seemed to pass between the two teens, arcing and jumping back and forth in waves of static until one (or the other) finally gasped with sudden, bolder touch.

Standing at attention, Ken’s weeping cock twitched where he knelt on the bed, pointing directly at her–each insistent bounce pushing another strand of precome to gather at his head and drip lazily down his shaft. It was larger than she realized, considering the last times she’d seen it had been in the dark and over a grainy webcam. As long as her toy, the one she’d sent pictures of to tease him with, but significantly wider. That was supposed to fit? To slot inside her and somehow not hurt or tear her open?

Momo wasn’t a total noob, of course, she’d finished sex education and had even done research (alright, so it was more like fervent tapping of her fingernails across the keyboard of her smartphone in the last couple days, but still); she knew she probably wouldn’t bleed–considering her history with martial arts and her masturbation habits.

But how the fuck was that supposed to feel good when she felt almost overfull with just three of his long, curled fingers just a few seconds ago? Fuck, it was probably rude to stare, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

Sensing her concern, Ken’s hand smoothed over her bare shoulder, sliding reverently across her ribcage, resting at last upon her plump hip. Meanwhile, his girl laid her feverish palm against the side of his face, a shiver rolling down her body when he turned to plant his open lips to her sensitive wrist.

God, she was amazing. Terrified and anxious as he was, blood buzzing through each and every vein like some kind of drug, sparks that were threatening to burn him to the ground if she so much as touched him below the waist–he was also intoxicated by the rush of excitement.

The woman he dared to call his girlfriend was breathtaking, and he wanted to show her how much she’d changed his fucking world–how she’d changed him.

Leaning in slowly, giving her enough time to stop him if it was too much or too fast (whatever she wanted, even if it wasn’t this–wasn’t him–), his lips laid softly onto hers while he squeezed her hand beneath his. He wanted to change her, too, in ways that were unthinkably honest and obsessive– wanted her to change to fit him into her life, because goddamn it, he was ready to mold himself into any shape to fit beside her.

When her tongue swiped over the seam of his mouth, he groaned and opened himself completely, sliding his fingers up her arm to thread over her ear and into her hair. Tilting his head, he sucked her into his mouth as far as he could, willing her to stay inside. To never leave him, to seek shelter in his embrace and his kiss.

Their naked chests crept closer until they were flush, simultaneous gasps of elation being pulled from one mouth and into another, nipped at with adoring teeth, swallowed with sultry moans. How could the simple act of being skin-to-skin provide such a heady rush?

She was so tight against his body, he could feel the hardness of her nipples on his skin, and suddenly both of his hands were clamped firmly over her wide hips (god, so beautiful and thick, meant to carry the weight of things he didn’t deserve–the weight of a beautiful family and love and a lifetime of happiness and joy—)

Flipping over to lift her up felt easier than breathing right now, especially with every ounce of his growing strength devoted to one cause: having Momo Ayase naked and on top of him. His gorgeous woman squealed at the quick change of position, but when her pussy lowered onto his pulsing length, it aborted into a sigh and they bucked in ecstasy. Every shift was agonizing, wet, hot, filled with longing and murmured curses and pleading, chased down by more lip locks and pinching fangs.

Cowgirl was one of the recommended positions for first times, according to the internet, and it would give Momo control over the pace and depth of penetration. And if she was going to find it enjoyable, it was strongly advised to put extra emphasis on foreplay, on lubrication, and most importantly, on the comfort of the receiving partner. Hopefully the little moans meant he was succeeding.

The painful pressure of her lips (both on his face and his totally enthralled cock) was enough to make him lightheaded with desire. Though Ken wanted her writhing, needed to feel her heat around him, he dragged himself back to a semblance of reason and fumbled for the small bottle that had gotten lost upon the navy bedspread in their scramble to explore the other.

The cap clicked, opened and closed before he moved to the apex of her thighs with slick fingers to circle her clitoris. Her gasp flew into his waiting mouth, told him he was on the right path as he coaxed her into a long, deep kiss–wrapping her tongue with his and seeking every hidden place that he could.

There! He relished in her warmth and pumped two fingers slowly, spreading them in a wide motion so the lube might cling to her already sodden walls and help her accommodate him.

Panting and rocking into his palm, her tiny groans teased his ears and clutching fingernails gripped his shoulders. Cosmic pink eyes shut, and he added a third, long digit, his thumb reaching to stimulate her clit again.

She was so beautiful. He was so lucky.

A lengthy, utterly wrecked moan tore from her after a particularly deep thrust and surged to suck at her neck–to feel the noise with his lips as he pleasured her. It was exciting, yes, nearly overwhelming, but paramount that his girlfriend actually wanted to continue.

He loved her so fucking much.

Fear bubbled nervously in Momo's abdomen, but it was fast overtaken by the overwhelming magma of her desire. The furnace that was her need for him stoked higher and hotter until the only tremors that remained were impatient, all-encompassing, and so fucking good, holyshit!

“Momo,” he withdrew his fingers and she stole the breath from his lungs with her lips, with the heavy slide of her over warm vagina, meeting and goddamn dripping on his dick. He could cum from that alone if he wasn’t careful. For the first time in two years, he found himself profoundly thankful for his stupid fucking medication.

The smiling goddess astride him crashed her hips into his again, Ken had to reach for anything to prevent the words bubbling in his throat, incapable of any thought other than that of how much he loved her–how much he had to tell her.

Grasping the back of her neck as gently as his shaking fingers could, he pulled her; their lips slamming in between, her clit grinding heavily on the underside of his cock while their groans traded places. Vague concepts were warring with way-too-honest admissions in his lungs. The lizard brain screeched and leapt around in his head, trying to wrestle for control over his higher thought process- seeking to destroy the last barriers of restraint that he held fast to in order to go at Momo’s pace.

Baser instincts wanted her beneath him, legs wrapped and locked behind his tailbone as he railed into her, cumming deep and pulling her close to keep his woman warm and safe. They hissed, ‘Mark her, fill her. The only way to make it real and forever is to show how you feel. Plant it deep inside and make her yours.’

It wasn’t all bad–in fact Ken mostly agreed with it that Momo should be crying out with pleasure, and that he wasn’t working nearly hard enough to make it happen yet.

Deities that may or may not exist were having a laugh looking down on them, surely. Especially as her slippery folds parted and his cockhead bumped low between them. Noise punched its way out between teeth as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. It was unintelligible gibberish, harmonized with gasps of her fucking name and helpless whimpers of unbridled lust.

‘So wet, fuckfuckfuck–’ hips jolted unintentionally, sliding the tip of his engorged dick right where there was a… a space? A silky, heated part of her that cried out in his head (both of them, really) for him to fill it. Thrust and spear her upon him—’God, it's so warm! Can't– shit, fucking shit–’

While Ken was having a minor mental break underneath her, his neck straining toward the stars that were pasted on the ceiling in a way that made Momo's teeth ache to feel it, her mouth dropped open at the brand new sensation happening below.

Softness- holy shit, the skin of his penis was incredibly soft, and it was just so—

Velvety enough that Momo wanted to cradle it with careful fingers. She could rock on him and feel the slip of his foreskin between her pussy lips. Then she could rub it on her face and see what it felt like on her tongue, if the viscous liquid pooling on his glans was as sticky as it seemed.

Like, what the actual fuck? How could anything be that smooth and malleable, yet still firm as stone when pressed? Remembering the bewitched moans he'd let out between her legs earlier, could it be that–could she feel similarly to him?

Responsibility whispered that she should grab one of the condoms in her bag, add another barrier of protection between them. But she so wanted to fucking feel him, raw and uncovered, wanted to feel his release deep inside her aching cunt. She had the fucking IUD–that was enough, right?

The thought tumbled around in her mouth, as she chewed on and shaped the groan that was pulling the air from her lungs. And then it was swept away by the searing hot squish of the tip of him against her entrance, encouraged by the uncontrollable tilt of her hips.

So nearly there. Just barely not inside of her, but not quite fully on the outside, either.

And between them both, the same notion trembled in their consciousness: it would be so easy.

This was it.

One deep breath and a plunge from either would seal them together, potential consequences be thoroughly damned.

Ken’s heart was in his fucking throat, bared to the goddess perched so hotly and carefully on top of his need. She could kiss or kill him, rip him apart, stitch him back together with the brush of her breath on his skin, one word could break or fulfill him.

Resplendent, victorious, and with beads of sweat rolling down the delicious curves of her body–he wanted to follow them with his tongue, he wanted to make her cry out as she rode him, wanted her full and satisfied and wrung dry by pleasure.

Momo could feel the tension in the boy beneath her, each tendon taut and ready, every muscle waiting on the edge… of what? Of her word? Of what she was going to do next? 

Her man's fingertips were clenched on her hips, like he was trying to burrow through to her bones in order to hold her in place, his cock kissing the swollen, desperate part of her that wanted to envelop him. To finally know what it was like, what he felt like.

Shifting on her knees, Momo clumsily tried to angle down and slip him inside.

It was more difficult than it looked, apparently. Between the lube and the motion (including the sudden jump of his hips canting upward in excitement), his tip instead fumbled between the lips, grinding into her clit.

Gasping into his open mouth, her hands suddenly bracketed his neck, his cheeks, clutching at his ears and stealing a magnificently deep and broken moan right out of his chest—she pleaded with him, begging him for help, “Lower. Fuck! Ken, lower, please–” Incredible, so much more than her fingers, than her toy–somehow the feeling of slick skin on equally wet and swollen flesh was making her shudder already.

Smashing their lips together in a kiss, he frantically rolled, sliding lower and jutting against her entrance, but unable to quite angle himself properly. Removing one grasping hand, he encircled his straining cock, attempting to sightlessly guide himself to her wet pussy, drawn in by the heat and the slick contraction of her muscles–the pulse of her heartbeat through the sweltering seam of her cunt.

“There—” Momo moaned, rocking her weight down and swiftly sundering his fucking psyche in two.

With only his cockhead inside of her constricting walls, it was like being joyously flayed alive by intense pressure and sensation. Like hot, sticky silk. Warm, soft, wet–oh, god, so fucking wet–so fucking warm! 

The pathetic truth was he’d been banking on his meds to make him last longer. All of the restless research that he’d done in order to provide Momo with the most enjoyable first time he could had also informed him that he was going to cum immediately, without warning, and it was gonna be embarrassing, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it because it would be the single best feeling thing that would ever touch his dick.

Then, holyfuck–

Shit–

Ohhhhhhh god, every twitch within her was the slick grasp of the firmest, burning hand, wet and wanting and trying to reach deep inside him to pull out every drop he fucking had.

And he sooooo wanted to fucking give it to her. Everything in him was coiled tightly, waiting for the dam to break, for the release of oppressive, desperate lust, for the chance to pour into her and live, happy and comfortable, inside of her womb.

The last threads of his control held out. Barely. And he wasn’t breathing–frankly, didn’t have the brainpower for it. All the blood was rushing to his other head, he just might pass out.

Momo sunk down another inch; the slow press of his hard cock into her was unbelievable, the stretch very goddamn noticeable, but between the lube and her own natural wetness, it was just a pressure. Each centimeter of him that she bore down upon left her breathless, how could something so hard and unyielding be so pliable and smooth at the same time? Almost spongy? The sharp pain she’d been worried about was mysteriously absent, and left in its place was only the odd pinch of fullness. 

He was barely inside her at all and she felt like an overstuffed bean bun.

But every glorious fucking shift, each pulse of blood in his dick, every harsh gurgle from his throat as he hummed into her mouth, how he trembled—

She could see why people got addicted to this. Why countries and wars and whole religions could face creation and destruction as a result of this act. It was in the shake of his lips, and the whimper buried in his chest as she lowered herself further to take him; Momo could raze empires to the ground and build kingdoms brick by brick for the privilege of making him do it again.

It was only when her thighs fully surrounded him, hips interlocked and flush—every goddamn inch of him twitching and stretching inside her—then Momo could breathe again. The sense of connection that she felt with Ken at that moment was enough to make her world tilt on its axis–even if it wasn’t painful or terribly pleasurable physically (yet? God, she hoped it got better), the crush of endorphins and hormones in her body made her feel like melting.

“Fuck,” she murmured, lips sealed against the corner of his mouth (which was shaped into a disbelieving circle) as he gasped roughly.

Tight! Ohhshit, she was so tight! Warmer than anything he could have imagined, grasping and seeming to pull him in further (was that even fucking possible at this point?!), but so mystifyingly satiny and dangerously wet.

All of his research could never prepare him.

It was like taking fire from the gods. She was bright and burning, and he’d stolen away with her down the peaks of Olympus. His goddess was scorching him, scarring him with her touch and he wanted to be used until completely spent, as fuel for her otherworldly desires. They could build a temple to her upon his ashes so that he may remain the seat of her power eternal.

A tingling sensation started at the glans, his foreskin naturally pushed down by entry, and then the tingles rolled and dripped down his shaft like so much milky softness being poured over him. He was wrapped in her touch, smothered wonderfully by the hot, grasping, sucking force of her walls. And when he was fully seated within, her beautiful, rounded ass pressed against his balls as he clutched her hips like a wild beast? It was as though he had been dipped in gently warmed honey and all the billions of nerve endings in his dick were going berserk.

All this to say, if she fucking moved he was going to die. Hell, maybe he craved it.

Thankfully, Momo seemed content to guide him into her mouth, and then her tongue was seeking out his own distracted, dizzied appendage, so he let it occupy what few brain cells weren’t being cooked to death by the rapidly coiling tension behind his cock.

He loved her so much. He’d loved her before this, but now that he’d gotten to rest within her, to lie inside her temple, to feel the warm blessing of her gorgeous body? God, he knew what worship was now–thought he knew before, holyfuck, had he been wrong. Worship was to tirelessly devote himself to her wetness, to promise every part of him to every scant touch she would permit, to dream of living inside of her body—of dying beneath her bountiful weight, pressed firmly to her breast, to her heartbeat as she took from him until he had nothing left to give.

Experimentally, Momo shifted her weight, swallowing the muffled groan that burst from his throat and humming consideringly. The lube was a smart choice, made more obvious by the caress of it against her clit and her labia, squishing nicely on his skin while she wriggled so very gently.

Stars exploded behind his eyelids as Ken tore his lips from hers, head smacking back into his pillow as he gasped at the ceiling. 

Ohhfuuucccckkkk, he was done for.

Trying to funnel his focus elsewhere, he relished the way her plush hips felt in his fingers, how it overflowed between them when he moved upward, gripping her by her love handles (that's why they called them that–because he was irrevocably in love with them.)

Everything about Momo was so soft, even the slow crush of where they were connected (god, if he thought for more than a second about the fact that he was completely inside of her, he’d bust immediately–) 

Cracking his eyes open, Ken fought to force his gaze out of the back of his fucking skull. But when he at last managed it (he couldn't stop stroking and squeezing parts of her body, feeling her weight in his hands and treasuring it so keenly–) the peaceful way her hair slid over the nape of her neck, glinting redly in the candlelight as it hung around them like a curtain, made him choke up more.

Her fingernails slid up the column of his throat, scratching curiously and gently at his many birthmarks–she was stroking the sides of his face, his incredibly sensitive ears (there would be no stopping the desperate whimpers that wracked his body, not that he wanted to–fuck, he could sing to her of how she made him feel in that moment if she asked it of him!) she pressed her thumb upon the edge of his open lips, dipping just inside his ajar mouth and along his twitching tongue. It sent more pleasurable shocks zipping down his spine and gathering in his abdomen.

Jesusfuckingchrist; he remembered the garage, when her fingers had been coated with her juices and he'd gotten to taste her and look into her eyes–fuck—

Through all of it, her cosmic eyes were closed, the beautiful planes of her face relaxed and tense all at once, lips trembling and air rushing noisily over teeth in each grunt and tiny, beloved moan that sounded when she rocked again.

The fullness of Ken's cock within her did not ease- but the pinch did, and she felt suffused by the shift of his skin inside, while he rolled up to meet her own motions. The thrusts were uncoordinated, of course; they couldn't be anything else, but they were wonderful as both got their bearings.

Ohhhgod–it was so good now. Even as their movements didn’t match up perfectly, and he would thrust further in as she was pulling up, fuck, it was so good.

How did people ever stop doing this? How could she not want to stay mounted on him, interlocked and barely able to breathe (there wasn't space–wasn’t time–it wasn’t needed, they'd breathe each other–holyshit—), forever? Until she was sated? That didn't seem possible just then.

Like a cascade of syrupy warmth, the meeting of their hips, even shakily, was nearly overwhelming. She was unmoored and her nails marked crescents on every part of him that she could reach while her whole world dribbled from her lips.

It was useless. He heard them all the same. Ken latched on to them adoringly, to the way her voice hitched on his fucking name, how she told him he was, "so fucking good, you feel so good–”

A slow retreat, by only inches–not enough but too much at the same goddamn time–and then he filled her completely once more.

His hands wandered as they both apparently lost themselves in the haze of sensation, lightheaded and intoxicated with the feeling.

(Tight–hot–electric aching–)

Noise. 

(Gasping breath–choked moans–names traded with longing–the gentle slap of wet flesh–) 

Even the smell. 

(Sweat pouring as muscles moved in new and exciting ways–the undeniable scent of sex surrounded them in the air–)

Finding breasts in his wandering hands, his fingers closed over the heavenly, supple skin–fingertips catching on her peaked nipples, carefully tweaking them before moving on, up her body to the side of her neck, into her silken hair. God, the way her tits shook and swayed when he released them, jiggling enchantingly and filling up his vision for a few very important seconds.

“Beautiful,” he groaned, brushing his thumbs over her ears, simultaneously tugging her closer while he surged up, lips smashing hard in between before he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down. Momo yelped, pulling away sharply because he was a dumbass and got too excited, but he chased her, soothing the hurt with his tongue. Rewarded with a moan, he knew he was forgiven.

Occupying his mouth was a necessity; he was moments away from babbling about how gorgeous she was, how much he wanted her to love him. And he may have been drunk on sensation and her essence, but he wasn't far enough gone to disregard how fucking bad of an idea it was to give voice to those secret dreams.

Kissing amplified the shock of pleasure coursing through his brain with every bounce his girl took on his dick. Sudden and sharp, getting faster, he frantically thrust to greet the warmth of her pussy around him and twined his tongue with hers while they both groaned.

Faster didn’t necessarily mean they’d figured out synchronized rhythm yet, but occasionally they would hit upon the perfect tempo between them and muffled groans would exchange noisily from mouth to mouth.

That burning pressure behind his balls was growing too quickly, even with the lack of rhythm (there’d be time later, god, let there be time later!) Ken was about to be ripped apart by the goddess astride him, but he could not let this end before she saw the stars in her sky like he did.

Fighting his orgasm tooth and nail (literally, nipping at her tongue, nearly clawing at her hips as he pulled her harder onto him, even as she whimpered), he kept thrusting.

Momo broke the kiss to moan beautifully and he tipped up to hide in the crook of her neck, sucking on her skin and mouthing his gratitude on the taut line of her throat. Her nipples brushed against his freckled chest and each full motion of their hips, now that they were upright and she was perched on his lap, made them bounce. So good. It had likely only been a minute and a half since he'd entered her, but the seconds stretched out into hours while his muscles protested tiredly and the tension behind his navel strained, ready to launch him into the fucking sun that was Momo Ayase.

Too much, toofuckingmuch—

She sat up with him gingerly, led by his gentle but insistent hands at the small of her back. Her pelvis was aching and crying out with the change of position, how much more work she had to put in to achieve the same pressure, the same depth of penetration. But her boy was right there with her, attached to her face and her ears and her mouth by his lips, one hand sliding down to the mattress to support their new configuration while the other distractedly assisted the motion of her hips to keep pace with his short, upward thrusts.

Every inch of him was trembling, and when she looked down and into his half-lidded, espresso dark eyes, they were glossy and unseeing. Awe-struck. Momo could feel his thighs shaking apart beneath hers, but he struggled on, pushing up into her and grinding at the height of his thrust–so obviously focused on her pleasure, he didn't even seem aware that he was hyperventilating.

Lips pillowing on his cheek, she kissed a path toward his reddened ear, sucking on his earlobe and savoring the hiss that caught on his teeth where he bit into her neck. She wanted him to leave marks–ones she could see in the morning.

“Ken,” she whispered, then he moaned brokenly, whimpering with every quick jerk of his hips—and, holy fuck, he felt wonderful. “That feels so good,” the moan spilled over her lips, pouring like sweet confirmation, making her every extremity tingle and buzz with the shift of his cock, fueling the swell of desire raging in her abdomen.

“Momo,” he let slip into her skin, barely stopping declarations of love from clamoring behind, “Momo, Momomomomo—ahhh. Wanna m–make you feel good–better than good! Ohhhhfuck, need it, please? Please?” So lost in the thick swirl of excitement and feeling, Ken felt no embarrassment at begging for her release. Wanted so very badly to feel it when he was tucked next to her womb.

But he was trying to hold it together, and Momo knew that it was taking everything out of him, that he was likely hypersensitive and near to the point of pain in his attempt to stave off his oncoming climax. He always fucking did this, and it wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair because she wanted to see him fall apart again and again, but without a computer screen between them. To see the blissful, agonized stretch of his neck, the shape of his mouth as he muttered nonsensical strings of words slammed together, how his pupils overtook his whole iris before shrinking to pinpricks during his orgasm.

“Let go, Ken. Let me feel you,” she murmured, her hands grasping his cheeks and turning him fully into a deep kiss.

Like unclasping a lock in his chest, her words incited an eruption of fireworks in his fucking brain while his cock pulsed heavily inside of her, grinding as close to her cervix as he could with each wave.

Surrendering completely to this woman, this goddess, he gave her all of him, continually rocking up and pushing his cum further even as it jettisoned and splashed deeply. He coaxed it higher–to the warm, cozy place inside her where it may take root and slumber, safe and at peace in this home they could fill together.

Static teased the edges of his vision, flooded his veins and shivered and zapped through him frenetically; he was burning alive, he was opening his heart and letting her in, he was floating, drowning, swimming in the pools of viscous longing left by her command. He belonged only to this woman, and at her word, he would fall to his knees and give her everything over and over. 

Dazedly, he knew he was making noise, though he couldn’t hear a goddamn thing except the curl of her lips on his open mouth, forming a single, repeated word as she rolled against him, “Yes. Yes. Yes—”

Fuck! Every drag of her comfortable, gripping walls was drawing him in deeper, milking him and attempting to suck him further while she moved gently on his lap. At some point, both of his arms had snaked around her middle, pulling her tight to his front and then down, spearing her on his weeping, submerged dick. He was still so hard–continually thrusting shallowly and slowly past her parted lips. 

Throbbing so deeply inside her, Momo shook with each rope that erupted from him—ohhhhh, she could fucking feel it! The way it would fluidly slam into her walls, into some hidden part of her that made her thighs shiver with need!

Rocking slowly on her boy, she reveled in the spread of liquid warmth that she could feel seeping between them. She hadn’t cum, but each slick pump brought an undeniable bolt of numbing pleasure.

This was an addiction; god, she needed to feel that again. Wanted to hold him inside until he could fill her more, absorb his spend and feel the hot shudder of his body as he lost himself in her. It was so unlike using a toy, even lube couldn’t compare. There was something so soft and luxurious about the slide of him inside her.

“So pretty, so good,” Ken muttered, peppering her neck with kisses and still fucking surging, “Momo, you’re amazing. Thank you. I lo—” He bit into her skin before completing the confession, yanking her down harder onto his oversensitive penis and moaning in delicious, multifaceted agony as his girl keened with his attention.

Then she lifted herself on her knees, sliding him halfway out of her. Though it was a reprieve (he nearly sobbed with the partial relief), he jerked his hips up to slot inside again. Leaving the comfort of her body would end it, that would be it and he wouldn’t have been able to make her climax. 

‘Fucking pathetic,’ a dark red creature inside him snarled, because his anxiety would never leave him, not even when he was the happiest he’d ever been in his sad fucking life, ‘Couldn’t even keep it together for her to finish. She’s going to laugh at you. She’s going to leave you, and you’ll fucking deserve it, you useless loser.’

Momo shifted again, out of the range of his seeking hips this time, and he whined into her skin, trying to pull her closer. Hesitantly, the young woman scraped her fingernails along his scalp, weaving between strands of his sweaty hair and tugging lightly to bring his focus back to her words rather than just physical need. Brushing them carefully down the contours of his face, she scooped up the tears that had overflowed from his tightly shut eyes, wishing she could see what expression he was trying to hide from her.

“Hey,” she cooed, lifting his chin firmly, even as he nuzzled closer, his lips pressing desperately to her pulse, “Hey, please look at me?” Her boy was frowning, his mouth trembling with held back emotion and words, and that simply wouldn’t do. “What’s wrong?” she asked, resting her forehead against his and staring straight at him.

The rotten beast of anxiety inside him wrenched his heart open, leaving him bare and vulnerable. It was almost like being trapped rather than cradled by her kind grip. Ken hated it, despised that his brain was choosing now to overload. Fucking pathetic. He was so worthless, she had to know that now.

Wet, soil brown eyes finally cracked open, and his voice shook as badly as he did beneath her when he mumbled, “N–not, fuck, I-I’m sorry. Wasn’t… g–good enough.” 

When Momo began to shake her head, he charged forward brutally, growling, “I wasn’t! You—you deserve more, M–Momo. Better. Better than me. This was so beautiful–you’re so beautiful. And I’m fucking nothing–” 

Her soft lips defied the laws of physics and hit him with the force of a comet, crashing into his and soundly bludgeoning the self-recrimination right out of his mouth.

Separating after several overlong moments, wherein he was confused and angry at himself and desperate for more physical reassurance (jesus, he was practically climbing inside her mouth for it, so needy over her softness), she bit his lip until he bled, the copper bloom of blood licked away by her tongue as she panted in his face. Punish him–he deserved it.

“Ken,” she started, sucked in a breath, “You’re fucking everything. So stop saying that about the man I—about someone I care for.”

The man she–?

Momo had moved so that her legs were on either side of only one of his thighs, but she quickly found herself on her back at the opposite end of the bed, her boyfriend having suddenly flipped their positions. His knee was between her legs, and he fucking knew it as he used it to grind into her swollen clit and she yelped.

A fierce kiss, then he moved to her ear to hum, “I care about you, too, Momo. So fucking much.” Biting her earlobe, he relished the surprised hiss that escaped and how her pelvis bucked, rubbing her very wet cunt on his bare leg.

“Let me show you,” he begged, practically demanding in her ear, “Let me make you feel good. Fuck, I wanna feel you cum, Momo. Don't want it to be over yet.” His stammer was gone, lost in the haze of his need to see her undone, to put them back on more even footing.

His long fingers skimmed down her naked side, passing up delightful handfuls of her flesh as he aimed them instead between her legs. Her turquoise fingernails dug into his shoulder blades–shitshitshit, he needed to feel that again. Preferably while she was cumming around his dick; he wanted her to mark him indelibly, and he’d take it anyway she’d grace him with it.

Roaming over the curves of her plush, chubby belly, he traveled down. Down through her pubic hair, swirling twice around her tender clitoris before running over the lips of her waiting pussy, slowly parting them as her legs fell open for him.

She was his muse. His inspiration. And like this? The fact that she was his (spread out for him) made him feel like a god, too. Like there might be something worthy in him, so long as he could please her, for as long as he could make her want him.

Her skin was flushed Mephiston Red, and he felt his cock twitch in overstimulated but never-ending interest as the shade darkened when his fingers slipped inside her sodden cunt.

A groan rattled in his chest as he scooped and plunged, slick noises echoing obscenely between them while he played with all the cum he’d unloaded into her, pushing it back in and sloppily coating her clitoris with it as he feathered the bundle of nerves with his thumb.

Starting slow, he hungrily watched the hair cascade over her crimson shoulders and neck, her head tipped back onto the dark comforter. His gaze scoured her skin, landing on the occasional birthmark before finally finding purchase on her swaying tits. Ohhgod, as she rocked her hips to encourage him to pick up speed, they rotated in the air. He wanted to taste them. Wanted to taste her. Every part of her–but right then her lips seemed the most lonely, gasping and wanting of his own.

Kissing Momo was something he felt like he was born to do. And as he captured her open mouth with his, he knew it with unrelenting certainty.

She moaned into his kiss, and he happily snatched each whimper between his teeth, laving his tongue on hers, sliding deep and sucking her into his mouth, their teeth clashing together occasionally as he dove inside roughly, trying to touch every part of her.

All the while, he steadily pumped two fingers in and out of her sticky, fluttering pussy–his other hand reaching to flick her left nipple so he could devour her moans. Her pleasure was heavenly; it tasted of ambrosia, and he wanted to find new and better ways to bring it out of her for his sampling.

With one of his thumbs dedicated to circling her clit, he breathed in her whine as he thrust a third finger beside his index and middle. He had to make her cum, had to make it good for her, better than the garage.

God, he could do so much better, please just let him prove it!

Whimpering with each quick thrust, Momo writhed beneath him. The way he could cage her in with his arms was intoxicating, his utterly debauched kisses left her gasping, burning with the ever-increasing lust that coursed through her. She felt inundated with his affection, every word he laid upon her lips was also an oath, backed up by the friction between them, by the way he kept pushing his essence further inside of her.

“Beautiful–”

“I wanna feel you, want to feel it hit–”

“Please, tell me I’m good, Momo. I need to know–”

The murmured praise, the pleading, it filled her head and left her dizzy. She couldn’t get a word in–Ken’s lips were strong and adoring, and every time he lifted off of her to haul in an unsteady breath, she had to do the same. Nearly crying at the unrelenting sensation, Momo could barely move except to rock her hips into him as he picked up the pace.

Emboldened by the noises issuing between her lips–which he ate up like he’d been starving, his still erect cock humping against her thigh, cum trickling further down all the while his fingers worked.

Ken was nearly slamming into her now. Tension that he’d only been privy to twice before became obvious in the tilt of her neck, in the way her breasts shuddered with her every breath and moan, and especially in the way her ankles looped restlessly around the back of his knee, sitting as it was between her legs.

Momo shuddered and jerked under his intoxicated ministrations, rolling her center and pushing his digits wetly deeper. 

Ohhgod! That spot that she knew he could reach (she fucking knew it–knew those artistic fingers could find her most hidden of spots, the ones that made her shake) was being stroked and bumped by the curl of his knuckle, by the seeking press of a hard, thick fingertip.

“Cum for me. Please, I need to see it. Need to feel you let go, too,” he whispered feverishly into her panting mouth, courage pushed to new heights by her keening. He sucked on her tongue and nipped at the wet muscle, imagining it was the lip of her cunt, the throb of her clit–

And she fell apart gorgeously.

A gurgle that was nearly his name (god, he wanted it to be his name!) breached her lips, followed by a breathy, mewling moan that recorded and played on a loop in his brain. So fucking beautiful. The galaxies in her carnation eyes had softened, shaped into the ultra fine, dusted rings of Saturn or Chiron, swirling and surrounding the starless, black pools that were her pupils.

Riding the waves of searing lust and need, Momo's brain whited out for untold seconds. Minutes? It grabbed at her with invisible hands, electric pleasure rippling across the surface of her and boiling the liquid desire that seemed to make up her entire being. 

Wet, messy fingers gathered and (re)deposited his warmth deep within her cunt. The noises were positively filthy, she would have blushed if she hadn't been so fucking distracted by the slow rise and fall of more waves of her climax caressed her alongside her boy. Ken cast her out into the depths and dragged her sensually through the shallows as she felt him rock against her body. It felt endless as the tide, but slowly (god, slowly), the waves diminished.

So moved by her ecstasy, he groaned in time with her, with the woman he loved. Her walls spasmed around his slick fingers, he whimpered with each clench and ground his oversensitive (yet utterly desperate to reclaim its space inside her) cock into the soft padding of her lovely hips and the delicious curve of her ass.

His lips and tongue traced a hot path on her neck, under her jaw, sucking a very dark red mark on a very conspicuous part of her throat with all the greed that welled up inside him. 

Only he had gotten to see her this way; shattered, waiting to be pieced back together by his tender and loving hands. She'd let him be the first—the only, if he'd damn well have anything to say about it. He'd beg her on hands and knees if she wanted. Give her rings and jewels and promises for anything she wanted just to make it come true. Fuck, he could live beneath her, inside her, bring her crashing back down to earth every day to lie with him in his undeserving dirt.

Pleading with every deity and greater power or intelligence that he'd ever read about, Ken asked for the chance to become deserving. Anything–he’d do goddamn anything to show he could deserve her.

Overstimulated, Momo’s hips jolted away from his hand, where he was tenderly circling her swollen, sopping clit. It was too much; though she'd cum harder than she could recall in recent memory, if he continued to touch her just then, she'd scream–and not in a fun way.

Teeth nipping, biting down a little more, Ken let her core slide away from his fingers. Releasing her collarbone (he'd left no less than five purpling hickeys and indentations on her skin, and, whoever-the-fuck help him, he was brimming with pride), gliding his fingers over the thick curves of her stomach and waist instead, eyes trailing on the residue of his cum as it smeared (half) unintentionally on her tanned flesh.

Sucking in satiated breaths (‘I did that! I put that look on her face,’ he crowed internally), his girl leaned back on the bedspread, hair haloing around her head as a bead of sweat ran down from her temple.

Ken wanted to lick it off. Didn't, but it was a near thing.

“Beautiful,” the word slipped out, tracing a worshipful hand over the twitching muscles of her abdomen, spinning delicate circles along her thighs before moving on to lavish other inches of her body.

The dripping prod of his erection teased Momo almost as much as his fingers–it was outshone immediately when he mouthed gently at her perky nipple, though. A hiss escaped between her teeth as her clit throbbed with aching need. 

“Ah! H–hold on,” Ken admired the blush of her neck as he obeyed, hand and mouth stilling completely, “Just need a minute.” A breathless chuckle tumbled out after the words, and Ken didn’t even try to fight the grin that etched itself on his face.

Something warm beat in his chest, entirely separate from his heart, thrumming through his entire being. To have left this spectacular woman in a panting, wet mess was a hell of an ego boost, and he attempted to hide his pleased smile as he surveyed exactly how far down her lovely form that rush of blood extended. Then his gaze flicked down to her vagina, and fucking stayed there–transfixed.

White, viscous liquid left a shine over her clit and labia, where he'd spread it earlier. His cum fucking dripped out of her entrance, despite all the vigorous thrusting he'd done moments ago to make sure it stayed there. It was so goddamn hot. An urge to push it back in with his cock–fill her with even more–seized him.

Dick pulsing, precum practically gushing out of the overeager and impatient organ, Ken painted a picture of her restful position in his mind; to keep forever, to dream of, to refer to when he craved her touch but she wasn't there (as was certainly inevitable).

Momo, blissed out, sweaty, looking well and truly satisfied with a tiny smile tilting at the corner of her mouth while she tried to gather her wits and bearings. Sakura blossoms, scattered and half crushed by the roll of their bodies, dotted the dark comforter beneath her, and the candlelight cast her breasts and hips and face in Sycorax Bronze highlights. Hills and valleys beckoned to him on her skin, where he could lay his head to rest, or plant zealous kisses. But still, he waited at his love's word.

That had been more than sex, much more than fucking. They'd made love. He'd learned something previously untouched and thrilling and terrifying; new language spoken through tender nudges and the soft collision of warm skin and hot mouths.

Love. God, how he loved her. The words lined up on his tongue, perched on teeth and tried to force his lips open—he bit his cheek.

He wanted to do it again. Desired a lot of things.

“Do you need anything?” Ken mumbled, lying half curled around her with his head beside hers. The smell of sweat was stronger, salty and hinting (shouting, practically renting out a billboard–) at what they'd been doing. And beneath that, her floral notes; the sweet flower that he remembered from their first meeting–he'd been shoved to the floor and smacked into her long legs. When he'd been huddled on the ground trying to gather up his belongings, but then she stepped forward, fearless and kind, and jump started an unbelievable change in his grey and listless world with a smile.

Her eyes had been burgundy with lingering rage, but those lips had curved so softly upward while simultaneously trying to disguise that she knew what a fucking Kellermorph was. And that beauty, of course, smelling like flowers and the sun-soaked sea. 

Maybe he'd been in love with her for longer than he realized. 

Another weak chuckle, though she wasn't gasping for breath anymore (more the pity), and she quietly asked, “Hold me?” Momo was suddenly meek, like there was a chance in hell that Ken would ever say no when she wanted his touch.

Wordlessly–because if he tried to talk he'd probably ruin it by choking up or crying–he looped his long fingers over her body, tucking them under her opposite hip and pulling himself flush to her soft curves.

It was his responsibility to provide aftercare, right? Drinks, comfort, a towel for any mess (though he found himself less inclined toward providing that last one–he wanted her messy, wanted to stain the blanket and see himself dripping from her.) With his heart trying to beat its way out from behind his ribcage, he did as she asked, gratefully clasping every piece of her and sealing them together. Her body was warm, soft and comfortable, beautiful and glowing from her climax. 

Should they talk? Probably. This was… well, it was a huge step in their relationship. And they'd kind of jumped into things without a proper discussion about everything.

“Are you… o–okay?” Ken whispered unsurely, trying and failing to not stroke his thumb over her heated skin. He thought about what he would do if she said no, if she was sore or upset or—

Disappointed. 

Fuck, he hoped she wasn't disappointed.

Worries assuaged by the way she skimmed her hand up his arm, Ken sighed with relief when her palm rested on his cheek and she met his eyes.

As she looked at this entirely-too anxious boy–who appeared to be very much considering hiding in her hair or worse, apologizing–something fearful and hesitant welled up behind his soil-dark gaze. So before his overthinking could get the best of him, she reassured him, “I'm okay. I'm good.” 

Then Momo leaned close and kissed his lips, slow and soft.

When those brown eyes shuttered and a sigh of relief puffed out of his nose and onto her face, she could almost say for certain that she loved him.

Almost.

The feeling was fluttering softly in her chest, drifting by to plant careful kisses on her skin, questioning glances traded between two bashful teens who held sweaty hands and shaky fingers. When he looked at her with devotion and awe, she could feel the word lingering, whispering in her ear to just reach out and accept it. To grab him tight and never let him go, never let him feel unwanted or unwelcome again.

But she was scared, too. It was all so damn much.

Ken was way more courageous than she was, honestly. And she'd heard it in his voice, pitchy and desperate, shivering with need. Heard him nearly say it several times now, knew that he was fighting it for her sake. The confession floated behind every meeting of their lips, in the way he laced their fingers together shyly, and in each happy smile he gifted her with.

Her boy offered her time, all that she needed, and was patiently waiting for her to catch up.

How could she fucking live up to that? Okarun thought so goddamn much of her, and why? She didn't deserve it.

Selfishness was ingrained in her, however, and as his hand slipped up to run through her hair while he moaned appreciatively with an open, inviting mouth—

Momo dove in.

Tongue sweeping in between his teeth, she let the sharp gasp that whistled from his lips to hers serve as permission. Desire and yearning pulled her under the waves again.

She could show him. Never with anyone else. Couldn't say it yet–too difficult, she hadn't earned it–but she could show him in other ways, right? Show him her heart and how he was slowly scrawling his name on it?

Naked, Momo slung her left leg over his hip, bracketing him in between her wet thighs and continuing to ransack his tonsils.

Muffled curse words were whimpered beneath her attentions—fuck, she loved how much noise he made. How easily and earnestly he could show her that he wanted her.

Still, Ken held perfectly still, even as his throbbing erection poked her thigh and caused him to whine around her tongue.

Kissing still counted as comfort. Just because they were cuddling and making out didn't mean she wanted to—

“Momoohhhhh,” he groaned explosively when her delicate hands came down to stroke along his leaking cock.

Or maybe she fucking did, fuck!

Unable to stop his hands, they smoothed down her sumptuous curves; shoulder to muffin top, he squeezed and kissed her deeper. Sliding adoringly over her ass, he gave her another squeeze and nipped her lips–she shuddered.

Then he was on to where he wanted to live, wanted to worship and slave for her, to lay his head down each night in the soft grove between her thighs.

He squeezed again, then pulled her leg to wrap more tightly around him. Her unceasing heat and wetness ground upon his swollen dick and he helplessly bucked into her clit.

Still encircling his cock with her hand, she fucking aimed him, slipping down from her clitoris to the entrance under her folds–so sticky and messy (from him!)

They both gasped and panted, lips barely touching while the rush of sensation flooded their heads once more.

And they pushed him inside of her together.

Nothing had ever felt so simple and easy in his life–loving her came so naturally to him that he felt almost like he was made to fit against her this way.

It was a bit of an awkward angle, on their sides like this, but he could kiss her and suck her tongue into his mouth while he shallowly surged in her hot cunt.

Fuck, she'd be the death of him.

Moans, small and encouraging, teased out from between their lips, and Momo tried to roll his cock in further. Their movements were somewhat leisurely; the second round a little less intense but also more exhausting than the first try. Her hands clutched at his shoulder, his hip, hauling him harder into her center while she attempted to shift her hips and meet him. Muscles cried out for a break but she was unable to think about that when he moved inside her.

Slick skin slapped between them as their moans increased in volume, just enough to nudge him to piston his hips faster, to coax her into tugging his curls and kissing him like they were careening off a cliff.

Maybe they were.

“M-more–” she asked his lips, the word breaking in half when he thrust harder, grinding into her walls before drawing halfway out again. Whatever she wanted, however she wanted him.

Losing himself to the soaked grip of her cunt, he leaned over her on the edge of the bed–absolutely incapable of separating their mouths–then Momo was on her back and he could roll on top of her.  It was easy now, there was next to no resistance, only warm, comfortable shocks that were unraveling something behind his navel.

Until he pulled too far back and his cock slipped out and down, wetly poking her ass cheek and jolting both of them. “S-sorry,” he whimpered, trying to adjust the angle of his hips. It was no use, though, he was lacking in experience to slide where he needed to go and ended up pressing into her clit instead.

Her fingers—fuck! Her beautiful fucking fingers wrapped around the sticky, twitching tip of his cockhead and she led him where he needed to go. Pressing in with a moan, he made love to her tongue as she took his dick so gorgeously.

Memorizing the hitch in the middle of her moan. Dedicating space in his memory just to the way her fingers clenched at his shoulders. Kissing her even though it was getting progressively harder to breathe–fuck, he couldn’t stop kissing her.

Pleasure mounted, and he could only stick to shallow thrusts for so long. But Ken wasn't as overwhelmed or unprepared; he knew now that he could keep pace, make her feel better for longer. He wouldn't get lost in the silken slip of her pussy around him, he could focus now on what mattered rather than be struck dumb by the sweet feeling of her softness on his hardness.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled in distraction, biting down on her lip and then pulling back again to say more, “You're so beautiful. Haaah. Is it good? Need it to be good for you–”

She moaned, “Really good,” oh god, he unintentionally picked up speed at the confirmation, breathing harshly against her throat, sucking on her skin while he had the wherewithal to do so. “You feel good, Oka–ohhh—”

Harder. Ken could feel her walls clamping on his dick occasionally and hoped it meant she was enjoying it–when he'd been fingering her it had felt similar and she had liked that. He was pretty sure, anyway.

When he bumped at the point of her fullest capacity, he dug his toes into the comforter and bucked further, grinding deep within her as her legs tightened around his waist. It felt glorious, like a slow forest fire crawling through his head, over his trembling body.

But the way Momo sometimes moaned, low and warbling, could have undone him immediately if he hadn't been concentrating so hard on making her do it again.

Holyshit, he needed her to do it again. Over and fucking over.

Her clit was squishing wetly on Ken's pubic bone, still drowned in lubricant and semen, and Momo wasn't as overstuffed this time. Deliciously full, but not uncomfortable–in fact, she was so slippery and wanted him so much it had been almost too easy to pull him inside (twice even.)

Movement, that was it. Continually rubbing up against a specific part of her anatomy that made her breath stutter in her boyfriend's mouth. The tension had begun to coil in her gut once more, slowly climbing to a second peak. 

A bead of sweat dripped down the taut line of her boy's jaw, his coffee-toned eyes were closed, and his tensed tongue stuck out from his clenched teeth while he concentrated, both of them sucking in air at the brief respite of their lips. 

In between the gasps that slipped out with every withdrawal and thrust forward, Momo took advantage of his concentration, tracing his features. Ken Takakura was handsome in a round-faced, soft sort of way that she didn’t often get the opportunity to appreciate. 

His fingers were rough and gorgeous, long and precise–long enough to spread over the entire top of her thigh as he moved, holding her close so they could both feel good (and, ohhgod, did it feel good now.) With his tongue sticking out just like it did when he was working green stuff or expertly cutting the flash off of a model, Momo felt an immense fondness flare in her chest.

Cracking open his eyes and wetting his dry lips, Ken found himself being looked at by his girlfriend. Oh, shit. Had he been making a stupid face? Probably–no, definitely, hell. She was so pretty and this was fucking perfect and he was asking for too much as he rutted into her like an animal. Pace faltering, he was about to ask if she was okay–

But the slow, tired smile that stretched over her lips was a soothing balm to his concerns, and he chased it with a kiss that gradually got hotter as he picked up tempo again. 

Down her face while he bucked straining hips, warm lips pressed to her chin while he brought a hand up to grope at her breast, teeth dragging on the skin of her neck while he plucked at her nipple. He nearly slipped out of her again at the awkward angle, but he had to fucking taste her while he fucked her. Wanted to tease her tits and make her cum while he was inside her.

More, just a little more, and he was sure that he could do it–he could push her over the edge and feel her pulse around his cock. Fuck, he wanted it so bad.

Thrusting harder, moving his aching thigh muscles into quick and shallow motions, Ken leaned even further down, hand squeezing her breast as gently as possible while also attempting to angle it toward his seeking mouth. Momo was moaning, and he was busy engraving the noise into his mind while also shoving away his impending climax. His tongue flicked over her nipple and she keened, back arching and giving him a mouthful instead.

Static lived in his bones, suffusing his marrow and trying to make him numb with the increasingly warm flood of endorphins that were zapping and sizzling up his brain stem. Sucking hard, he released her breast with a pop. 

More. He wanted more. Fuck, he was so greedy with her. Did she like that? God, he hoped so.

Getting up on his knees, he reached to pull his girlfriend closer, wanting to flip them and see her move above him one more time, perfectly impaled on his cock… and slipped. Fingers failing to find purchase on the bed covers (in fact, sliding even more due to the romantic petals he’d scattered all over the fucking place), Ken fell backward.

Goodbye warmth, hello hardwood.

Momo may have yelped, he wasn’t totally sure. All he was certain of was a ringing in his ears as blood flowed every which way to try and bring his brain back online, as well as the dull thud of pain from smacking his shoulder into the floor. Lastly, there was the sudden fact that he was not where he wanted to be (which was obviously burrowed between her thighs and held against her breasts until neither of them could move anymore.)

Blinking in confusion and annoyance at the ceiling, Ken groaned then sat up to look at the one who had managed to stay on top of his woefully small twin mattress.

Only to find Miss Ayase with both hands clapped over her mouth, rhodonite eyes wide open and looking him over quickly. “Oh my god,” she started, moving to the edge of the bed, her gorgeously long legs now hanging over the side, “Are you okay?”

Looking up at his nude girlfriend, sitting on his bed with a cherry blossom petal stuck in her hair (with her legs spread so prettily, open and waiting), Ken thought privately that he could be bleeding out and probably still feel “okay”, just as long as she stayed right there.

Or anywhere, if she only deigned to take him with her.

Moving into an incredibly awkward kneeling position (jesusfuckingchrist, his dick was still hard and slick with their combined fluids… and bouncing excitedly in the air) he rubbed the back of his crimson neck, looking at the floor and adjusting his glasses before mumbling, “Uhh–y–yeah. I’m, um, okay.”

Movement out of the corner of his downcast gaze drew his attention, and his head snapped up to find Momo, curled in on herself and trembling.

Oh, fuck. He’d really screwed up everything, hadn’t he?

“I–I’m fine, Momo,” he scrambled physically and vocally to assure her, about to rise and see if he could fix it, “I’m sorry I ruined it–please don't cry–” Momo whimpered and her shoulders shook with restrained—

Wait a second… Was she…?

“You’re trying not to laugh at me!” he realized, pointing accusingly at the awful, terrible, brilliant girl he had just been worried about traumatizing.

Releasing the pressure valve on her laughter, Momo giggled and gasped for breath; full, raucous belly laughs ringing between hiccups as she fought for her fucking life on his bed.

Running his hand through his hair, he blushed feverishly, fully cognizant of exactly how stupid he looked then.

“Ahahah! I-I—fuck, I’m s-sorry! You just–the look on your face–” Momo tried to placate him, her arms around her plush stomach as she rocked back and forth, full-on chortling and snorting at the sky.

Even though every guy had anxieties about being laughed at during intimate moments, Ken found that he couldn’t be mad. In fact it was contagious, her joy and beauty catching his hands and pulling him into a frantic run alongside her humors, and he started giggling at the ridiculousness, too.

It evolved, completely unabashedly and without reserve, until he was laughing so hard that his ribs ached, his cheeks stung from smiling so wide and so long, and there were tears in the corners of his eyes while he shook from the force of it, his bare naked ass still on the floor, hardly able to move.

The laughs subsided as either teen sucked in breaths, peeked up and/or down at each other, and then devolved into breathless giggles again–the kind that were nearly soundless, just squeaking and pleading with each other to stop, to rest and wait before it all started up again.

God, she was so beautiful.

Finally, the hilarity filtered down to carefully controlled chuckles and breathy giggling, and the clearing of throats reigned supreme. Ken looked at her, sitting upright on the edge of his bed, leaning on one arm while her chest heaved with her barely normal breathing pattern. In the candlelight, her coloring was darker, and he wanted to kiss all the shades and highlights of her skin. The perfect model for object source lighting. Oh, how he wanted to draw her again.

Reaching her smaller hand out to him, his girl smiled so softly and sweetly that he would have given her anything she asked for. She need only say the word, he’d make it happen–on his life. A selfish, soft part of him wanted her to ask for him–thought that maybe, just maybe, she would.

He looked so happy that Momo wanted to show the world how lovely his smile was. This boy deserved everything, and maybe this time she could give it to him. It was a hopeful, heavy thought.

Ken reached back and met her in the middle; not grasping, but sliding his fingers between hers, interlacing them before their warm palms connected.

Marveling at the devotion in those black tea eyes, Momo felt somehow more naked than she already was as her boy beheld her. He continued to shatter every expectation and shifted to kneel before her again (god, her heart was pounding), brown eyes on pink while he brought her knuckles up to his mouth.

And kissed each with a reverence akin to religion. 

Like how her Granny lit incense daily at the Shrine, how she’d offer plates of rice and cups of sake to the Land Gods; solemn, graceful, and fully committed.

When he rested their laced fingers on her thigh and moved his mouth to her knee, she huffed a small laugh. But the growing black of his pupil silenced her and sent those coils of need racing down her spine and to her abdomen again. Then that adorable bastard traced open mouthed kisses up her inner thigh.

Shivers skated down her spine, the memory of those dark eyes looking lustfully up at her while he feasted on her cunt was still fresh, waiting (hoping?) for a reenactment.

Lips pillowed into her fatty pubic mons, open, wet, suckling on her skin so lightly that her back arched and she nearly fell to the bedspread–held in place by his intent gaze.

“If you’re done laughing at me, Momo…” he rumbled into her puffy tummy, aiming for teasing and unwittingly stepping straight into sinful indulgence, steeling himself before continuing, “I promised to show you what love was like.”

If he couldn’t tell her, he’d show her.

Then he realized what, exactly, he’d said and flushed red, adjusting his glasses self-consciously with his free hand and looking at his knees.

“Hey,” Momo whispered, and when he looked up, she was quite red herself, “You promised… right?” She seemed oddly meek again, asking him for what she wanted with hesitant eyes and a soft clutch of fingers around his, her voice wavering. Seeing this vulnerable side of her, Ken found his confidence once more. Momo wanted him.

She’d asked, and because she had, he was damn well going to see it done.

Firmly squeezing her hand in return he released her and his fingers moved to smooth over her ankles, up her calves, and finally to rest wrapped on the undersides of her thighs, pulling her open for him. Moving to scoot his body closer, he slotted between her legs and resumed his slow and lazy path up her body.

Burning her alive with the nip of his teeth, the drag of his tongue, and the steady suction of his lips.

Momo was breathing faster now, and unable to resist with the woman he loved spread out so deliciously underneath him. He stopped to plant a kiss beneath each small breast, then cupping both and sitting up to admire them as she blushed.

Twisting both nipples gently, Momo rolled her hips and tugged him flush against her with her ankles hooked around his tailbone, the bed proving to be the perfect height from his knees for them to connect. 

The slide of hot, wet (fuckfuckfuck) flesh around his shaft made him buck mindlessly for two seconds, resulting in five hard thrusts of his cockhead against her clit and ripping moans from both of them before Ken remembered himself.

“Shit. You’re so amazing, Momo,” he crooned, grasping tightly to her love handles as he ground his cock harder into her. “Can I? Please, please, say I can? Need to fill you, need to be inside you. I’ll make you come, I promise, please. It's all I want,” Ken bargained, white spots behind his eyelids when she rolled back into him in response.

“Yes–fuck! Want you inside,” she said immediately desperate for him again, her fingernails digging into the skin of his arms. Needing no more direction, he shifted his hips in small, searching humps until his tip was against the heated entrance of her pussy–then he pushed in.

Much easier this time around–they could hone in on the sensation instead of adjustment. 

Once he was impaled to the hilt within her, they groaned, with open mouths and shuttered eyes as they savored that first slip of flesh against flesh again.

If sex was always like this, Momo very much doubted that they were ever going to graduate. God, this was gonna be all she could think about every day until the next time she got to shove him into bed and climb on top of him. Based on the way his dick pulsed and twitched in time with the little explosions of air from his mouth that looked like silent moans–well, her boy probably felt the same. 

How did anyone ever stop making love?

“Ken,” the girl caressing his cock and destroying his brain said, breathlessly and beautifully below him, “God, please move.”

So wet and ready for him, her thighs cradled his hips between them while he fucked into her. And it was fucking now; the crashing of her moans in time with the slap of sweat-dampened skin, of his balls, swinging and clapping into her ass cheeks, it was all he could focus on. The softness of Momo, the girl he loved, surrounded him and melted his goddamn brain.

Shit. Shitshitshit. This was nothing like it had been earlier, Momo realized, holding on to the straining forearms of the young man that was mumbling broken praise as he rocked into her, pulling her by her chubby waist to spear her onto his swollen dick.

“So fucking gorgeous, ohgodfuckfuck–”

They’d gone from tender and questioning touches to hard, desperate movements, sharp and sudden. She was writhing under him, trying to meet his thrusts with her own abandon–just as responsible for the shift in tone as he was.

Now, they were taking from each other. Both of them racing headlong toward an indeterminable drop, hand in hand.

Every shudder of her sodden walls over his cock rendered him dumbstruck, the squishy muscles inside her cunt squeezing his engorged cockhead when he moved, sucking on him when he pistoned back into her softest place. Crying out for him to empty it all deep inside her once more.

“Wanna feel it, Momo. Please, pleaseplease-”

Fuck, she'd never felt so full and yet so empty at the same time. The repeated intrusion of his dick slamming into her was phenomenal, kissing close to her cervix–but still she craved more. 

Needed to feel his essence pump into her again, stuffing himself in immediately after to push it back into place–to keep it inside. In a way, Momo wanted him to cum more than she wanted herself to, perched with her ass hanging half off his bed so he could pull her, over and over, onto his hard length.

She was his home. And every hot, wrenching slide of his cock into her proved it. Ken was nearly sobbing with the relief of each thrust, with the tension that coiled behind every movement, ready to break and pour everything into her waiting womb. So comfortable, so hot! 

Momo's hands reached up, twining around his arms to the back of his neck. “More,” she whimpered, tugging on the fine hairs and bringing him crashing to the surface of her overheating sun.

He fell into her kiss like a goddamn asteroid. The orbital impact of his tongue and teeth, the way he gasped her name into her own fucking mouth–

Every snap of his hips was rough, helpless and desperate all at once, begging for her release rather than only chasing his. And while he feverishly ground into her, she made a noise (a groan, a yell, a plea to keep going, “God, th–there! Ken! Ke–”) that caused what little control he still possessed to shred like so much wet paper.

His thigh muscles were screaming, his arms exhausted from propping himself up as he pounded into Momo sloppily (he had to keep hitting that spot, shit–!), and he wanted to cum so fucking bad.

“‘Mmmm close—I’m close, Momo,” he warned her, fucking begged, lips against hers as the words slurred together, “Please cum. Please, wanna feel it on my—oh, oh–fuuuck–”

Fingernails found purchase in the skin of his shoulder and ass and pulled him inside her harder, grinding his cock deliciously into a spongy area along her walls.

Ohhhgod, she was so close—!

Ken's climax bore down on him like a fucking avalanche. Deafening, impossibly fast, thundering upon every inch of his exposed skin and leaving him numb. The static rush of too fucking much sensation suffusing his whole body and then…

A word on his tongue (it was very important–her name?), he tumbled into Momo's honeyed, constricting cunt, each shove accompanied by the combined agony and ecstasy of his orgasm.

His mouth was on hers momentarily, fingers somehow conscious enough to clamber down to her clit, swirling around the sensitive nub as he utterly fell apart between her legs. Hot spurts of his seed almost turned him inside out with yearning, his cock jammed as far as he could–right up against that warm, so incredibly soft place. That's where he wanted to send it, that's where it wanted to be; it was instinctual to press closer, those scant centimeters closer to her as his body felt electrified.

Momo’s thighs shivered where they wrapped tightly around her boy's waist. She could feel the jet of his release inside her again, her mouth ajar and groaning with each surge, even as the swells of his pleasure softened. 

Holy shit, she might be addicted to that feeling. ‘Thank the Land Gods for intrauterine devices,’ her brain supplied, maximally unhelpful.

Peering through her sweaty bangs at Okarun, her hips performing small shifts forward that made her whimper while his thrusts tapered off, she took in the totally wrecked look on his face. He was so beautiful when he couldn't speak because of what she was doing to him, his mouth hung open and wordlessly fumbling with his lips.

Though not often (she planned to do it many more times, actually, and soon), Momo had seen this boy melting from pleasure enough times to realize that he was probably a vocal lover. Always so ready to compliment her and beg her and reassure her; to make Ken silent and breathless immediately made her heart swell with pride. To strike such an intelligent, expressive boy dumb? She couldn't wait to see what other kinds of dazzled, silent pleasure she could drag out of him.

Like the rising tide he was stirring as he played with her tender clit, cock twitching and plugging her up and even shifting into small, wet humps as he slid warmly (and so easily) inside her.

Quiet, wretched gasps were plucked from his trembling lips as he pulled back, then entered her again in a smooth motion. He was oversensitive, the tiniest slip of himself in her searing hot cunt was the most divine torture; but she was breathing faster and moving beneath him, meeting the tiny thrusts with her own as he desperately rubbed her pulsing bud.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, and his teeth clamped over her neck in an effort to hold on to his resolve. Body crying out to stop–it was too much, it almost hurt (but, god, it felt so fucking good, too)—Ken continued to fuck his cum further inside her soft canal.

Teal fingernails that had pinched his shoulders now grasped his exhausted hips, guiding him into quick, grinding motions instead. “Please–just a little more,” she begged, not even aware that she was talking, only knowing that she needed his dick in place to keep it all right there, “So close, keep going?” 

His ear was next to her teeth. She nipped him and he bit down harder–it was fucking glorious. Each minuscule movement exponentially better with the silken, creamy lube that was his cum inside. Why the fuck was that so unbelievably hot?

Yes. Yes, whatever she wanted, even if it made him nearly sob with the overstimulation. Long fingers wrapped around her thigh, spreading her wider while he did as she asked. Releasing her (unintentionally–he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut with the burning slide of her wetness on his overwrought cock), Ken panted nonsensical sounds into her skin. Maybe words, maybe not. He could have been spilling his guts or talking about Bigfoot and he would have been completely unaware in either case.

‘In and out. Try to breathe. Push in, grind, keep moving your fucking fingers! Make her cum–gotta make her–fucking—fuck—!’ he coached himself through it, before the sucking, too-tight kiss of her walls clamped down on his slowly softening penis and his brain stopped working. It asked him for more–he didn’t have any more, but god, if he did he’d have given it all to her. Gladly.

Flowing out in waves from her occupied clit, Momo keened as she crested each crashing surge of pleasure. She could feel him, could feel the hard grip that her body held him with, all parts of her intent to secure him to her touch forever; her fingers dug into both sides of his hips, pulling his center airtight against hers while her toes strained and stretched toward the ceiling. His hand was sunk into the chubby flesh of her thigh, opening her core yet wider while he shook between her legs, still pressing the tiniest of thrusts inside.

Eyes slammed shut, mouth gaped–only exiting air and sound, nothing was fucking reaching her lungs, holy fucking shit. Every hot, tempting word or look he’d sent her way, each tentative kiss, hell, all the hard, bruising kisses that had slammed permanently into her body were rushing through her head with the crush of endorphins. She might float the fuck away if his weight wasn’t anchoring her to the earth, if his body wasn’t entwined with hers, holding her as tightly as she grasped him.

The comedown was gradual. Momo lazily drifted down from the clouds of her high, taking note of the continued sensations of her boy, wrapped around her as he was.

Fingers stroking her thighs, carefully staying away from her raw core.

Gentle lips on her neck.

How her name rolled off his tongue, pressed softly into her skin like a secret between lovers.

They were lovers now.

Love?

God, it fucking had to be, right? Lust couldn’t possibly feel that fucking good on its own, could it?

Completely soft, Ken mouthed at her throat, whimpering her name with each residual stroke of her muscles on his absolutely spent dick. She hadn’t released the clutch of her fingernails yet from his hips, so there was nowhere to go. He could feel the slow seep of fluid between them.

Fuck, it was gonna make such a mess–the sheets might need replaced.

Fuck, he wanted to see it spill out of her.

“You okay?” he murmured instead, tasting the salt of sweat on her tanned, flush skin.

Catching her breath, Momo nodded into his dark curls, reaching up to trace over his shoulder blades in a grateful petting motion, “I’m, hah, good. That was…” How did she even describe it? The best? Fantastic? Damn, let’s do that again?

A warm puff of air hit her ear as he chuckled and whispered, “I know…” Ken didn’t tell her how happy he was. It was probably obvious, written in the way he cradled her body, tucked inside and close to her in every way he could, or across his starstruck face.

He’d scare her off if she saw all of that. If he said what he wanted to say. The depths of his emotions were too fresh, too tender in this moment. Their relationship was still so new and fragile–hesitant.

His weight was barely kept off of her by his shaking legs and thighs, and close to collapse, he moved to brace himself on jellified arms instead. In doing so, his cock slipped out of her (still occasionally twitching) pussy, accompanied by a rush of thick liquid and their twin groans of—overstimulation? Disappointment? Some combination of both that told him to stuff her full with some other part of him. His fingers again? His mouth? Until he was able to take her once more.

Ken did neither of those things, and shifted his weight upon tired knees, forehead on her shoulder while he breathed in the soft yellow springtime scent she was wearing underneath the sex and salt of their lovemaking. God, he was certain that he was about to sink to the floor and ruin the mood.

Pulling hands on his shoulders made the decision for him and he hauled himself up on shaking legs, collapsing on his side upon the bedspread next to her.

(He only peeked at her glistening, dripping cunt for four–maybe five seconds. Really. Just long enough to burn it into his memory.)

Tentatively, he stroked her muffin top with a fingertip, smiling when she jolted at the tickling sensation. Growling in clearly fake annoyance, Momo grabbed his searching hand and wrapped it over her body instead, scooting close until their foreheads touched. Her hand rested upon his before she tapped at the digits oddly. His smile widened when she at last slipped her fingers through his.

It was so difficult to not say it.

Just a few more seconds of silence.

Don’t say it. Don’t ruin this.

Easily, he tilted his chin to catch her warm lips chastely between his own. She went so willingly that he sighed.

With eyes the color of stars and nebulae that he’d only ever see in pictures staring back at him, Ken tried to think of something suave to say. Something that would convince her to stay. To let him love her.

As her boy stared at her with softness in every line of his face, close enough to kiss (and then keep fucking kissing until they were breathless and aching once more), devotion and reverence so clear in his gaze that it made her want to hide (or admit things she wasn't ready to confront), she was afraid of what he was going to say. How she might end up hurting him (even though she felt the same, she felt it!–it lived in her heart and squeezed painfully at the thought that she might never be able to tell him).

“You should go pee,” is what came out of his mouth, however, breaking the tender moment cleanly and absurdly in half.

Both blinked at each other in surprise, for an overlong moment, but Momo cracked first.

Snickering so suddenly that she blew a raspberry through her lips and right into his face, Momo laughed at him. Again.

“That was, like,” she started, in between chuckles, “The least sexy thing–I've ever heard, dude.”

“It wasn't meant to be sexy,” Ken whined, quick to defend himself, “I just don't want you to end up with a urinary tract infection for putting off peeing!”

Rolling her eyes, Momo hid her smirk beneath a slim hand and grumbled, “It can wait a few minutes. What about pillow talk?”

A Screamer Pink flush hit her boy from chest to ears, and he adjusted his glasses twice before mumbling in reply, unable to meet her eyes, “O–oh… uhh, okay. Wh–what do you want to talk about?’

“Dork,” Momo teased, shuffling closer and lying with her head on his shoulder, “It just means you're not getting out of cuddles. We don't have to talk if you don't want to.”

Shifting to press the lightest of kisses into her hair, Ken didn't fight his burgeoning smile and corrected, “It's not that I don't want to. I just—I don't know what to say.”

“And you think I do?” Momo griped, “This is completely new territory for me, too, you know?” She was looking downcast suddenly, and he hugged her tightly in what he hoped was reassurance.

“No,” Ken whispered. Gulping (fuck, his mouth was so incredibly dry right now), he continued, “Umm… did you—did it hurt?” The quick shake of her head allowed some of the tension to drain out of him, and he sighed in relief, “G–good. Did… H–how did it–god,” he stumbled over his tongue in embarrassment, nuzzling into the hair at her neck to hide his blush, “Did you… like it?”

Stupid ass. Shit, he was so pathetic. Holding her close, he waited for the hammer of judgment to fall. 

“Uhm… y–yes. I did,” his girlfriend squeaked in response, and he could hardly believe his ears.

The rush of relaxation was so immediate and all consuming that he felt boneless, the sheer deluge of oxytocin in his fucked up brain made his eyes water, and he pressed a grateful kiss to her skin, trying to keep it together.

“Thank god. Er, thank you, Miss Ayase. So much,” Ken eventually mumbled, embarrassed that this plain and woefully inadequate phrase was all he had to express how he felt in that moment. He wanted to pull her skin between his teeth again, press ‘I love you’s into her neck until he finally found her mouth.

However, he did none of those things. Merely held her, listening to the fast and heavy throb of her heartbeat as it kept pace with his.

“Th–thank you… uh, too,” she breathed, hands on his naked chest, smoothing over his as-yet undefined muscles. Well. That wasn’t horribly awkward or anything. What the hell were you supposed to do after losing your virginity?

Momo flicked her thumb over the young man’s collarbone, just over the purple mark that still waited. Secret and safe beneath the collar of his shirt, a kiss just for them.

Unconsciously, she lifted her leg to wrap around his slim hips, then grimaced at the gush of semen from her groin, “Urgh, that was great,” there was no missing the sharp gasp that stuck in his throat when they were pressed so close together, “But I need a shower if we’re gonna get any sleep tonight.”

We? Ken’s heart fluttered, ‘Surely she didn’t mean…’

“And you’re coming over to the Shrine tomorrow. I don’t think we can share a single twin for more than one night,” Momo tacked on, like she wasn’t saying something unthinkable–something Ken could only dream of happening for real.

Unable to speak, he nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. She wanted him to… to stay at her home? Overnight? Like… like in her bed?! Her grandmother wasn’t home, and they’d just experienced a lot together, but… 

“You, uhh, you want t–to st–stay…” nearly blurting out ‘forever’, Ken quickly plowed forward, “You want to st–stay the night? With me?”

Momo rolled her maroon-tinged eyes in amusement and raised one delicate chestnut brow in his direction, “Yeah, unless you were planning to kick me out?” She’d pushed a little intimidation and gruffness into her tone, but he saw it for what it was; Momo was nervous. She actually thought he might ask her to leave after making love with her. That he’d ever be done tasting and loving her.

Which simply wouldn’t do.

Hauling her flush against him, he pulled her lips between his own and coaxed her into a deep, slow kiss. When they separated, he mumbled, mouthing the words into her lips, “Never. Stay with me? Please, Momo? As long as you want.”

The question felt weighted with hope and expectations, and Momo quailed slightly at the unspoken deepening of their relationship, but she clutched at the butterflies in her stomach and kissed him, open mouthed and full of all the longing she couldn't voice just yet.

“Okay,” she whispered, kissing him and saying it again, looking into the soil-dark eyes that reminded her of home. He could be her home. Hell, he might already be as much. “But only if you stay with me,” the words coasted over his cheeks, red with intense want and disbelief.

That gaze was soft and awe-filled as he tucked into her neck again, nipping her playfully, adoringly, before assuring her, “I will. God, I swear I will, Momo. I’m yours.”

Dangerous feelings were welling inside her. The urge to climb on him again until the only thing he remembered how to say in Japanese was her name. To kiss him until they fell asleep, shower be damned. And the way the words ‘love’ and ‘yours’ fought with her self-doubt. She couldn’t fuck this up–couldn’t hurt him again.

“Good,” she choked out, removing her leg from his person and moving to sit up. She needed a little space, but also wanted none between them. “Uhm, do you have,” Momo started hesitantly, twirling her bangs between two twitchy fingers, “Like, some clothes that might fit me? Don’t wanna wear my uniform again.”

As he propped himself up on one arm (sadly putting a couple inches between them), he looked around the candlelit room and blushed, “Y-yeah! Um, you can… b–borrow a shirt. I only have boxers though,” then he removed his hands from her entirely to wave them in front of his chest, “Or! Or can I wash your uniform? That makes more sense, yeah!”

Goddamnit. Why’d he have to be so fucken adorable?

“Y–you can–er, boxers are… fine,” she mumbled, very much not looking at him. It wasn’t weird. She wasn’t being weird for wanting to wear his clothes. That was just typical girlfriend stuff! His underwear might be a little too–

Scrambling off the bed like she’d shoved him (which Momo was about ninety percent certain she didn’t), Ken snatched up his discarded pants, shuffling awkwardly into them one leg at a time, his back (and freckled ass) facing her. 

Ah. That… made sense. They were done having sex after all, why wouldn’t he want to put his clothes back on?

‘Ken, you dumb dummy! You’re staring and making her nervous! Put on some pants before she notices your fucking boner again–getting hard because she wants to wear your underwear?! Quit being a creep,’ the boy berated himself, tucking his half-chub away and zipping up before practically sprinting for his dresser.

Grabbing the loosest pair of boxers he owned (they were kind of worn in, god, he hoped Miss Ayase didn’t get offended) and the baggy shirt that he’d accidentally stolen when they’d started training (thanking every greater intelligence in Mystery Mu magazine for having had the sense to fucking wash it beforehand), Ken sat on the edge of the bed. The clothes were stacked neatly within her reach, and he determinedly looked at the candles on his desk rather than the naked girl in his bed. If he did that, he’d fall upon her and kiss his way down to her center–and then she’d never get that shower.

‘Get it together, Ken,’ he reaffirmed, ‘You just made love to the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met. Twice! That’s two times more than you even dreamed of! Don’t be a pushy jerk!’

Momo ran her fingers over the pile of fabric, snorting in amusement when she recognized her blue crab shirt. “Thanks,” she whispered, contemplating her next move. A shower was definitely next on the list. 

Would it… would it be weird to ask if he wanted to join her?

Her stomach roiled at the thought and her bravery died. No. No, absolutely not. That was a step too bold after all the vulnerability she’d borne tonight. But what if she could–

Biting her lip and shifting to get off the bed, Momo grabbed the articles of clothing and walked purposefully to the door. 

Stark fucking naked. 

There was a sharp inhale behind her and she looked over her shoulder at the boy still on the bed. His fingers were clutching the comforter and his eyes were fixed decidedly southerly.

Before she lost her bravado, Momo whistled, watching those coffee-toned eyes tear away from her ass and snap to meet hers. Raising an eyebrow in what she really hoped was a welcoming, sexy kind of way, she twisted the knob of his bedroom door and left the room.

If there was a high-pitched ringing noise in her head as she speed-walked to the bathroom, well, that was just between her and the bowl of mandarin oranges on the counter.

Hearing the spray of water from the bathroom, Ken shoved his hands into his hair, tugging hard and using the eye-watering pain to ground him back in reality. The sound of the shower wasn’t louder for any particular reason. He was being paranoid. The bathroom door wasn’t open, it wasn’t an invite, and he was letting his hormones dictate his actions and turn him into a lustful prick.

She’d also caught him ogling her backside. Again. So… there was that little nugget of shame to contend with.

Flopping back onto the mattress, he tried to calm himself. It was difficult, considering what they’d just finished doing. Right where he was laying.

He’d made her cum. Felt it.

Fuuuuuccckkkk.

Standing up and rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his slacks, he paced the room furiously.

Okay. It was fine. Momo wanted to spend the night. That was great!

Ken had never had a sleepover before, much less with a gorgeous girl that he could explicitly remember moaning into his ear as he filled her–

‘Shutupshutupshutup!’ 

Gathering up the discarded clothing (he did not linger over how soft and subtle the embroidery on her fucking bra was, but he did groan when collecting her still-damp panties), he sucked in a breath and walked to the hall. As he opened the closet to get to the small washing machine hidden inside, a sound could be heard over the crash of water onto acrylic, and Ken turned to face the bathroom door.

It was cracked open. Momo sighed again from behind the noise of the shower.

The clothes fell, immediately forgotten, to the floor and he found himself standing in front of the bathroom without realizing that he'd taken the four steps necessary to get there.

He could feel the heat of the billowing steam on his bare feet, rolling between the door and frame to burst invitingly on his skin.

This—

It had to be on purpose, right?

Reaching a trembling hand out, the boy licked his dry lips and clasped the knob for stability.

Standing there for untold seconds (minutes?), Ken was frozen with anxiety and indecision. Was it an invitation? Perhaps she'd just neglected to close the door?

But if not–

Could he slip into the shower, naked behind her, run his fingers over her warm, plump curves and press a kiss to the back of her neck? Would she turn in his arms and kiss him back? Standing underneath the spray together, water sluicing down their joined bodies as they soaked in each other?

Shaking his head, Ken silently pulled the door shut and went back to the washing with a slump in his already poor posture.

With him? No way. He asked too much of her already–and if she were to look at him with anger at his presumptiveness?

Well… he’d closed the door on that.

Momo was staring at the door from inside the shower, the curtain parted just enough for her to maintain a clear line of sight (though her vision was strained in the lack of light–wishing that she'd thought to grab her nighttime glasses before leaving the Shrine.)

It was impossible to miss the soft thump of something hitting the floor, and the careful padding of lightweight feet as they stopped just beyond the frame. Out of reach.

When Okarun chose to close the door, Momo curled in on herself despondently, arms held tightly around her chest.

Either he didn't want to (and why would he, unless they were going to have sex again, what was the point of being naked and vulnerable like that with someone who'd seen so many ugly sides of her?)...

Or he was being polite. 

She couldn't scrounge up the courage to ask for the chance to revel in his nakedness, after all. How much it had hurt when he quietly shut the door wasn't expected.

Whether the former or the latter, it was still a rejection. And it stung and nettled in her chest while she let the hot water (nearly scalding) rain down her body.

It was fine.

He wanted her here. Otherwise he'd have said something, right?

Momo tried to ignore the mean voice in the back of her head that called her a coward and told her to make a move before someone else did (it sounded unfortunately like Aira Shiratori, much to her displeasure) and reached for Ken's shampoo.

Familiar, soft cedar notes filled the enclosed space and she smiled in spite of her uncertainty. So, the ink and pencil must have been just because he was always drawing and writing. 

It wasn't as nice as her usual haircare routine, and there was no spritz of perfume at the wrists and collar of her uniform to be had either. But after toweling off and slipping into the borrowed clothing, Momo dropped her nose into the neck of her shirt and inhaled for a few moments on impulse. It was comforting. He used a cheap detergent, but the cedar was ever present–stuck to her skin now–and it left her feeling cozy and safe.

God, she was being weird again.

Leaving the shower before she could triple-guess herself, the gyaru stepped into the bedroom, only to see her boyfriend sitting ramrod straight on the edge of his bed. Staring at her face with his mouth dropped open in surprise as his dark eyes roved over her features.

‘I know I'm not wearing any makeup right now, but come on–’ she wailed mentally, twiddling her bangs in nervousness before gesturing behind her. “Uhh, shower's free. If you wanted,” came the murmur from behind her fidgeting hand. Even though she was wearing something, the nakedness persisted without the typical gyaru armor to shield her.

Leaping upright and rubbing the back of his neck, Ken flushed once more and stammered, “Uhh! Y–yeah! I'll do that. G–great, thank you.” Horrifyingly, he bowed at her on his way out of his own room in his own apartment.

As he stepped into the shower (pointedly not thinking about how Momo had just been in there, naked and with water flowing down her chest–the acrylic was still warm, damn it), the boy castigated himself mentally. Imagining locking himself into a Penitent Engine for the crime of wandering eyes and spiking hormones that had taken over him while he looked at all the uncovered hickeys he'd put on her fucking neck and shoulders. On display for once. And without an inch of makeup.

How few people had gotten to see her like that? Much less put love bites on her skin?

It had flooded him with possessive desire, and that, in turn, filled him with self-disgust.

He would not turn into some—some sex-obsessed asshole! To render her worth down to that of her appearance and whether or not he could fuck her would make him the absolute worst! More so than the friend that hurt her! More than her exes!

And Ken refused to do that to her.

So, he’d stamped down on the urge to pull her into his embrace and awkwardly scooted around her instead.

Fucking pathetic.

As always, he wanted to call her beautiful and tell her how amazing she was. But maybe that would be misconstrued as a come on, too?

His shower was cursory at best, and a little too cursory at worst (he probably should have scrubbed himself clean, but it felt weird to do more than just rinse off–it felt like covering up evidence, or something, which he very much did not want to do.) 

What the hell was he going to say to her? What could he say that wouldn't tank their whole relationship? There was a lot that he wanted to give voice to, but even more reasons why doing so would be the height of madness and stupidity.

“Start small,” is what his therapist told him whenever he'd been faced by the chilling grip of indecision. What could he do to make himself feel better?

Shaking hands? No solution for that, unfortunately.

Persistent and problematic hard ons–hopefully she just wouldn't notice. He could keep his hands to himself. Easy. Put clothes on, hope it worked itself out. Great.

Throat dryer than the sand that the Mongolian Death Worm lives under? Bottled water. Maybe Momo also needed a drink after all that… physical activity.

His second problem began to make itself known again and Ken shuffled quickly to the fridge to grab two things of water, just in case. Drinking probably half of his own in that sudden and all-encompassing thirst of a teenage boy that had been strenuously engaged in exercise, he managed to cool his desire. For now. Long enough to get into his bedroom, anyway.

When he breathed deep and entered the room again, his heart stopped at the sight of his girl (his girlfriend!) laying sprawled out on her stomach (and his bed!), flipping through one of his occult magazines.

There were Warhammer books and magazines on the shelf that she could have looked at, he wouldn't have even batted an eye. But she chose to look through one of the ones with Nessie on the cover.

The smile that slid onto his face was small, though there was so much delight suffusing him as he crept closer and remembered how they'd discussed the famous cryptid the whole way to school yesterday.

After he sank down on the edge of the mattress (he'd changed into sweatpants and a tee as well–if only just to have one more layer between Momo and his rude and insistent erection that seemed to happen whenever she was nearby now), he leaned over to look at which page she was on.

Then Momo looked up and smiled at him–he could have fallen into her kiss and told her right there how deeply he loved her. How he wanted her to stay forever, not just for tonight. They could share everything, he'd teach her whatever she wanted to know about Warhammer, about cryptids and aliens, he'd show her the stars and she could reveal everything that mattered to her–he’d even learn about ghosts if she wanted, and he'd give anything for the chance to make her so fucking happy.

Momo saw the emotion swimming in his eyes as her boy looked between her and the magazine. It might have been a little rude to grab it without asking, but she hadn't expected his shower to be so short.

And she kinda wanted to see what interested him, too.

Maroon eyes lit upon the water bottles, squeezed between white knuckled fingers in each hand; he was still skittish, like a rabbit, ready to flee a hard situation. She guessed that made sense, even if they'd just–just done… it. And that had been pretty wonderful, honestly. Better than she thought it was going to be, just based on what the internet said. It wasn't all roses, of course…

But her boy was so goddamned beautiful when he was underneath her or lost to sensation. She wanted to see him fall apart again–wanted to be the reason for it.

“Hey, is one of those for me?” She asked it cautiously, and Ken snapped out of whatever daze he was floundering in to clear his throat and hold out the full, cold bottle to her.

After the heat that had just built and exploded between them, she could use something to cool her (apparently insatiable) desire before she scared him off. Or worse, made him think she was using him.

Momo stopped thinking about it and took three huge gulps of water, well aware of her boyfriend's eyes trailing down the column of her throat.

It was truly unfair how much he wanted to touch her at that moment. How much he wanted to kiss her and warm her lips back up with friction and affection.

Setting his own bottle on the nightstand, Ken lifted the corner of the blanket (white and peachy pink petals scuttled their way into a collected pile in the space between their bodies) and stuffed himself under it before Miss Ayase could get a closer look at how absolutely weird he was being in her presence. He looked at the magazine instead, rereading words on a page he'd already perused, perhaps even a hundred times already.

“That's a good issue,” he offered her softly, using the pretense of getting a better view to scoot closer to her beneath the covers.

Taking the bait (they didn't have to talk about the heavy relationship status stuff just then–there was always tomorrow) happily, Momo nodded and used her own pretense of placing her water bottle next to his to sling an arm over his shoulders and pull him closer.

“Yeah, it's pretty cool, geek-boy,” she whispered, the flush that overtook her cheeks contagious as it flowed to his, too.

“Miss Aya–Momo,” Ken started, no longer pretending to look at his favorite magazine, “Are you, uhh, c–comfortable enough?”

She put on a cute expression, twisting up her rosy lips into a thinking moue and dazing him when she leaned closer, as though sharing a secret, “I could be more comfortable, I think.” It felt like a dream when she shuffled under the comforter on her side (!!!) of his bed, between him and the wall.

Ken thought it had to be a dream as she fucking curled into his side, her head sharing a corner of his single pillow (he should have thought to grab an extra from the closet, and he was kicking himself over it, but Momo being in his room was distracting enough that he spaced on it.)

Shivers ran up and down his spine and his eyes shuttered when her sigh hit the skin of his neck.

She smelled like his soap–and though part of him was distraught because she always smelled so lovely, and he wanted to bask in her scent even on his worst days, the possessive part of him was thrilled to have this small claim. Momo smelled a little more like him, and right now, that meant a whole lot more than the anxieties that were hollering and scratching at the back of his brain.

The sharp, acidic smell of magazine paper and glossy ink filled his nose as he suddenly found the forgotten issue of Mystery Mu in his face–his girlfriend wiggling it hopefully and looking up at him with bright red cheeks.

“Read to me? Uhm, whatever article you want,” she whispered, in the same meek tone she'd used earlier when asking to be held.

Nodding, his heart full and his brain struggling to play catch up, Ken opened the magazine to one of the little side articles, about purported alien sightings at the nearby Nagi Hospital, long since abandoned by official powers that be. He hadn't visited it in a long time, not since the building collapsed a few years ago.

Momo's arm snaked over his chest and his breath stuttered, but he kept reading, reveling in the poke of her chin on his shoulder and how her hair tickled his throat.

In the middle of telling her how he'd been there when he was younger and had tried to use an advanced radio to make contact with UAPs, her jaw cracked wide open in a yawn, exhausted cosmic eyes fluttering shut and tearing back open adorably.

“We have school in the morning, Momo,” he reminded her with a fond smile, closing the pages on a blurry, black and white, indeterminable thing that had been photographed as “proof”.

Letting the issue drop (gently) to the floor beside the bed, the young man felt more than heard a mumble when she pressed closer while stretching, “Granny says…izza bad place. Mmmmmshhhhe blewitup.”

What the hell? 

Turning back to his girl in confusion, he realized she was already half conked out, lips moving over syllables he couldn't hope to overhear, even this close.

Swallowing hard on his feelings, on words that wanted to bubble out, Ken wrapped his arms around her midsection, hidden beneath the blanket, so warm and inviting.

“Good night, Momo,” he spoke softly, allowing himself the softest purse of his lips against her hair, nearly dry from her earlier shower.

Tonight, he wanted more than anything to not wake Momo. To let her sleep peacefully on him, beside him, for the whole night. For her to be there in the morning, to see how she woke up, how she brought the sun out with her sleepy smile.

Listening to the sound of her heavy, slow breathing like a metronome, Ken felt his own eyelids droop–Momo was the last thing he saw. And, god, how he desperately wanted her to be the first, as well.

‘It would be dangerous to get used to this,’ he considered.

He let it happen, anyway.