Sunday, April 29, 2012

A Shikamaru Nara Baby Daddy -- Clothesline

Character: Shikamaru Nara

Fandom: Naruto

OC: Haruto Tori, tall and slim

Inspiration: Laundry Day~!

// Prologue //

It was a clear day.  The sky was filled with clouds that seemed to roll endlessly on, and the minutes passed slowly but not tediously. 

Shikamaru Nara thought it would have been a perfect day to watch the clouds, but as it was, he had other things to do.  His wife of exactly seven months would be waiting at home for him.  Though being generally lazy seemed like a good investment of his time, Shikamaru also thought that seeing his lover was an even better one.

Upon stepping up to the house that was his, Shikamaru peered his head into the first few rooms, only to find them empty.  The kitchen had obviously been used, as it had various pots in the sink and one filled with soup on the stove.  The tatami room was also empty, but the futon was still rolled up on the ground from that morning, and had probably not even been spared a glance at all day.  (If Shikamaru knew Haruto at all, which he certainly did, he knew that she had a history of leaving things laying around for extended periods of time.)

It wasn't until he began to make his way out into the back yard that Shikamaru heard the gentle humming that could only come from his wife.  He found her hanging up the laundry on the line that stretched from the side of their house to a long metal pole ten feet away. 

It was a small yard, for sure, but it was used mainly as a porch anyway.  Sometimes they'd eat dinner out here when the laundry wasn't hanging up, but other than that, it was used for washing clothes.

He sighed slightly, but couldn't bring himself to interrupt her.  Her voice lulled him a little, bringing a certain peace to him that he hadn't felt during the entirety of his mission.  His body leaned against the threshold of the open door and he just watched her, admiring the subtle curves of her body that she seemed to be so self conscious about.  In his own opinion, there was nothing wrong with her.  If there had been, he wouldn't have wasted time doing something as troublesome as marriage.

When the wind suddenly blew the sheet she'd been hanging right out of her hands, Shikamaru decided that it was time to reveal himself to her.  He pushed off from the threshold and caught the fabric just as it whooshed past him.  Haruto's eyes landed on him and she smiled a peaceful, glowing smile that made his heart thud happily against his chest.

"Shikamaru!" she stepped up to him, kissing him softly, "I thought you'd be home later today."  But he could hear the admiration in her voice, and knew she was pleased that he was here earlier than expected.

He leaned down to give her a more solid kiss and was surprised when she responded passionately.  He knew, in that moment, what his welcome home gift would be.

// How It Happened //

The subtle breeze that shifted through the hanging laundry created a transient, otherworldly dimension to their kiss.  Shikamaru rather thought that, when his eyes peeked open, the heavy white sheets almost looked like earth bound clouds the way they fluttered about.

Haruto's fingers brushed over his cheek, traveling up to his hair and latching into it.  The intensity of her mouth stepped a notch and blew Shikamaru's thoughts away with the wind.

It had been two weeks.  Two weeks since Shikamaru had been home, wrapped up in her arms, and exchanging affection in any form.  Two weeks was a long time when you were away from a loved one, but now his heart was soaring because he could feel her, touch her, and taste her.  He knew she was real because she was here with her body pressed against his.

She suddenly broke the kiss, and when Shikamaru opened his eyes once more to view her, he caught sight of the beginning of what could only be a mischievous smile playing at her lips.  He lazily raised an eyebrow, silently wondering what she was planning.  But his question was answered a moment later, when she took his hands gently in hers and stepped backwards into the dancing wall of laundry.

At once, Shikamaru was reminded of his childhood years when he would hang sheets from the couch and make fortresses out of pillows and chairs.  But this was slightly different.  First, Shikamaru wasn't a child anymore, which he was about to prove for himself.  Second, the wall of laundry couldn't be considered a fort because the edges of the sheets left gaps in the wall.  The slight chance of being seen added an element of danger to his heart that made him smirk.

He walked over to her with purpose and slowly began loosening the collar of her chiffon shirt.  The fabric slid over her skin like a lullaby, and somehow warped his mind in the process.  He pressed her against him when the shirt was gone and almost sighed at the blissfully sweet contact.

Her hands drifted over him, wavering over his ninja gear and taking her time in removing it.  When he was just in his mesh shirt and pants, Shikamaru was struck with and odd bout of impatience and had to wrestle the shirt away.  Haruto giggled as he did, fingers dancing down his now bare chest as she dreamily looked into his eyes.

"Shikamaru," she murmured, slowly tugging him down into the grass with her.  "Take me."  The edges of her voice was tinged with a desperation he rarely heard.

So he removed their remaining clothes and they tumbled into the grass together, finally uniting through the gaps of their fortress and beneath the cloudy sky and around the fluttering clothesline. 

// How You Told Him //

Two months later upon Shikamaru's return to Konoha after another mission, he decided that his wife could be very evasive when she wanted to be…and even when she didn't.  But he had told her he'd be back today, hadn't he?  The particularly mission he'd been on had been an infiltration one and Lady Tsunade had told him to be back at a strict date before he had even left.

Still, there was no sign of Haruto in the house.  (Shikamaru had even checked in the back yard, but he couldn't see her through the wind blown laundry that seemed to forever occupy the space.)

So instead he decided he'd wait for her.  And that was how he ended up on his back amidst the laundry, dozing off to sleep.

That was also how Haruto found her husband as soon as she stepped into the back yard.  One glance at him and she rolled her eyes.  A brief, loving smile curled her mouth up.

The woven basket she carried on her hip -- of laundry, what else? -- was immediately dumped onto Shikamaru's body.  He sat up with a snort and Haruto burst into giggles as she looked on.  Shaking her head, she reached down to pat his head like a child and grabbed a few of the clothes that were littered across his lap.  He frowned at her.

"Oh come on," she laughed, heading to a nearby clothesline to hang up the damp clothes.  "I was only having a bit of fun.  Now pick all those clothes up before they get dirty."  She began to ramble on about how it had taken her all morning to wash them, but Shikamaru wasn't listening to her.  Instead, he was staring open-mouthed at what he held in his hands.  There were tiny little baby clothes all around him.

He groaned and fell back into the grass.  He wasn't annoyed at the fact that his wife was pregnant.  (He was sort of annoyed that this was how she'd decided to tell him, but that was something else.)  Rather, Shikamaru felt an indescribably desire to sleep that was coming on fast.  He'd been tired before she'd come home, and now this

But then, suddenly, Haruto's voice was just next to his head, and he heard her ask in a rather hesitant, fearful voice, "…Shikamaru?  Are you…angry?"

Of course he wasn't.  He peered up at her and was surprised to see tears waning in her eyes.  His own eyes widened at the sight and he sat up, hand reaching for her shoulders. 

They sat there for a few long minutes in silence as Shikamaru wondered what to say.  Finally, he fell back once more and brought her with him, so that they were cuddled together in the grass. 

He pressed a kiss to her hair and then told her, "Don't jump to conclusions.  I'm just tired."

Her emotions bounced back immediately.  He felt her smile and she kissed his cheek sweetly.  "Well then, go to sleep."  And she kissed him again.

He just hummed and, as he was drifting off, he murmured, "Wake me up…if it starts to rain…" 

// Epilogue //

Shikamaru never realized that raising two kids would be this troublesome.  He didn't know how Haruto did it when he was away, but he couldn't deny that his respect for her had increased tenfold by the time their second child had come around.  Of course, it seemed that Haruto's respect for him had only decreased.  (It probably had something to do with the fact that he didn't do much.)

"Shikamaru!  Hurry up and help me get the laundry inside before the rain comes!"  A basket was pressed into his hands by his wife as she hurried outside.

When he stepped into the back yard, Shikamaru could see the heavy rain clouds and the flashes of rolling thunder far up in the sky.  He peered at the sight for a moment before he was brought back to the present by his daughter as she tugged on his pant leg.  He looked down at her and smiled, and a moment later she was nestled in his arms as he walked over to where his wife was haphazardly tearing clothes down.

"Oh, Shikako, go and help Hotaru with the his basket."  Shikamaru let his daughter down and she scurried off to do just that.  He almost wished she didn't go, because his wife didn't look like she was in a very happy mood…

"Don't just stand there!  I just felt a raindrop!"  she tossed a few shirts into the woven container. 

After a few minutes, the two children were ushered inside and the rain was adamantly falling down…right on Haruto and Shikamaru as they collected the last of the clothes.

She sighed as they walked hand in hand to the back door.  "I'll have to redo all these shirts."  And Shikamaru chuckled because the whole situation was rather ridiculous.

She turned to him and opened her mouth to no doubt scold him, but he interrupted her with a sudden, rather bold, "I love you."  Which was rare for him because he didn't go around professing such an emotion often.

She stopped walking, seeming to forget about the rain and the sopping laundry and the fact that her own clothes were soaked, and tumbled into his arms with a giddy grin.  He chuckled once more, pressing little kisses about her face before taking her lips with his.

"I love you too," was all she could say the rain stole their breathes and the faded giggles of their children drowned out any hesitance.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

A Scotland Lemon -- Under A Highland Sky

Character: Scotland

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

OC: Linna, short blonde hair, bold at times

Inspiration: The Highlands~

Linna had never seen the highlands before…or any other part of Scotland, for that matter.  When someone thought of the word 'vacation', they would usually think of France or Spain, or the Caribbean Islands.  But never Scotland.  Not unless you had a thirst for nature and a lust for strange, rather inarticulate accents.

Well, Linna had always been a bit odd.  She'd say strange things at strange moments that would make people wonder if she was mental.  And sometimes, she'd do something completely bold that inspired people to be as genuine as her.  She was a difficult character to figure out because she balanced two extremes that would often come out at different intervals of the day.

But those extremes were probably what made Scotland so interested in her.  Oh, it wasn't a romantic interest…at least not at first.  He'd merely been curious about who she was, and why she was so strange, and what the cause of her strangeness was.  But then Iain saw something in her that overshadowed her bizarre nature and took precedence over her nonconformist personality.  And that, in a nutshell, was the reason that he had invited her to his country and was standing with her in the Highlands, overlooking the rugged, browned landscape that was his home.

Linna wasn't normally one for nature.  Well, she liked viewing it from windows anyway, like the one in her car as she drove through a country.  But she didn't often go camping because she preferred being able to watch TV after she had her meals, and maybe turning on her computer in the mornings, or possibly using a light switch rather than lighting a fire.  I suppose it was simply a preference of hers.

But she had to admit that the landscape before her was definitely astounding.  She had never been so awe inspired in her entire life, actually.  Her feet felt as though they were planted in the earth and she couldn't move, save for the shallow breaths of clear, undiluted Highland air that she breathed in.

And beside her, of course, Iain was standing with a lazy look on his face and a cigarette in his fingers.  Because the sight before him didn't quite take as much of his breath as it did hers.

"It's beautiful," Linna murmured, and the wind ushered her words away as soon as they came forth. 

Iain was unsurprised at her reaction.  In fact, it was the only thing he had been absolutely certain of when he'd invited her up.  The rest of his plan wasn't as concreted as this part was, but Iain wasn't one for things set in stone anyway.  He liked things unrelenting: like the wind that rushed over the heady mountains and the water that plagued the deepest, darkest caverns of the many Scottish lochs.

He took a deep breath and cigarette smoke filled his lungs.  When he blew it out, he noticed that Linna had turned her attention from the landscape to himself.  He raised an eyebrow at her in question, and she responded in her characteristically odd manner.  "I was just thinking…how you're sort of like Ben Nevis." [1]  The mountain towered out before them as though it somehow knew it was being spoken of.

Well, he didn't expect that.  He looked at her -- really looked at her -- and was rather surprised at the way his heart betrayed his emotions.  She slipped her arm into his and began tugging him down the small hillside they'd been standing on, talking as she did.  "You both stand tall.  Even though you've been through so much, you both have something to live for."

It was odd hearing her talking about the historic mountain like it was a person, but Iain couldn't deny that warmth he felt from her words.  His features remained as composed as ever, riddled into his normal uncaring façade.  But he wanted to smile, because he felt as though he was being seen, not as England big brother or as some drunk, spluttering old man, but as a human being who forged his own path.  And the way she spoke made it sound like said path was one to be admired.

His gaze remained locked to the back of her head as she pulled him along.  Her hair that day had been pulled up in a simple yet elegant bun and was kept in place by a number of hidden pins.  The style was not what drew his attention, however, but rather the open expanse of her neck that it revealed.  He kept his fingers resolutely at his side for fear that he'd give into temptation and reach out to her.

She was superbly dressed in his opinion, actually.  She was wearing the lightest of shirt -- made from a white washed fabric that fluttered haphazardly over her skin and accentuated her feminine curves.  Her long jeans also accented her body, especially when she'd swing her hips so tantalizingly…

They were almost to the end of the hill, and then Iain was sure she'd let go of his arm.  He didn't want her to -- he wanted her to hold onto him forever.  He wanted her to kiss him and press herself against him and want him to want her; beg for him to take her.  The desire to spin her around and just kiss her pounded at the edges of his mind, clustering like a disease.  He felt plagued and troubled, and there was only one alleged cure-all that could put an end to it.

So he damned it all to hell, allowing a heavy curse to fly past his mouth as his grip twisted her arm back.  The next moment was confusing but filled with relief as he took her lips with his and caught her waist with two strong arms.

She was so shocked that she could only stand there and stare at him as he ravished her mouth.

And when he was finished, and resting his forehead against her and breathing her in, Linna could still not move.  Because she was utterly overwhelmed by the current of emotions that swirled within her, and could not for the life of her figure out what she was feeling.

Iain took her silence, however, as a form of rejection.  He sighed and pulled back, rearranging his features into a careless expression.  He could not feel regretful for the kiss, but neither could he deny the dull ache that accompanied the results.  Turning to his mountainous landmark for silent support, he threw his arms behind his head and stretched.  "Ach.  I'm sure there'll be lunch waiting for us at the house."  And he made for the end of the hill and, ultimately, the path that would lead him home.

Except his home wasn't really waiting for him half a mile away, but rather gaping at him from two feet behind, only just realizing what had happened in her typically slow witted manner.

This time, her reaction was faster.  A short laugh escaped her throat and she lunged for Iain, surprising him when she landed on his back.  As a result, they began tumbling down the hill and landed in a heap of giggles -- on her part -- and curses -- on his.  She rolled on top of him and gave him a grin, hovering over his face with sparkling eyes.  Her hands caught his and pinned them above his head.

"I'm sure I can wait for lunch," she taunted, and slipped her lips over his for a quick kiss that, though short, left him breathless.

He grunted, staring up at her silhouetted face against the pale blue sky.  He felt like a boy with a silly crush on a teacher.  With a lazy breath, he told her, "I'm not so sure I can."  And tilted his chin up so that their lips were once again locked.  This time, they forgot to breathe.

Somewhere in the heady passion of their kiss, Linna's hands released his.  His grasp slinked up to her waist, pulling her closer as his tongue raced along her mouth.  When they came up for air minutes later, he could detect a lingering lust in her glassy eyes and felt the need for her grow stronger.

She must have realized her own desire as well, because then she was kissing down his neck, pushing his collared shirt aside and fiddling with his buttons.  Her touch was so adamant and riveting that Iain could only lay there and watch her.

Her mouth caught his just as the last button was released and his shirt was pushed away.  He sat up slightly and allow it to slip off his shoulders and found the position oddly comfortable.  Also, it slid her farther down his lap and gave her perfect insight into what exactly she was doing to him.

She gasped at the feeling of his hard erection.  Opening her kiss, she stared at him, pausing their kiss for a mere moment before restarting it with increased passion.  She pushed him back into the grass and ground her hips into his with lusty, controlled thrusts.

He grunted and arched his back, craning his head up as he gasped silently.  The friction of their pants felt amazing against his length.  He almost didn't want it to end.  Almost.

But then he saw her reach into her shirt and pull it over her head, and her full, lacy bra came into his view.  And suddenly Iain wasn't a boy anymore, but a man with a burning determination.

Her back was pressed into the earth before she could bat her eyes, and Iain was hovering above her with that blazing need filtering through his gaze.  His fingers tilted her chin up and he kissed her.  But this kiss was unlike the others, because now it was messy and haphazard while his hands wrestled their other clothes away.

When she was finally bare and laying in the tall grasses on the hillside, Iain felt blistering heat crawl down his spine.  His manhood stood tall and proud before her.  Her eyes, latched to it in awe, made him smirk a wild smirk.

Her gaze slowly spanned his body as her fingers brushed over him, smoothing up his chest and locking to his shoulders.  She dragged him down over her so that his chest was pressed to hers and their lips were centimeters apart.  And then, in the barest of whispers, she breathed, "Take me."

He almost groaned at that, because her voice was so diluted with lust that shivers captured every inch of his back.  He inhaled, resting his mouth against hers, and slid his large hands over her breasts, down her stomach, around her hips, and curled themselves at her thighs.  He lifted them up and his lower body met hers, pushing his cock into her hole as he stifled a moan against her neck.

After the first few shaky thrusts, the rest was history.  His hands soon abandoned her thighs so that they could pin her hands above her head in much the same manner as she'd done to him.  His fingers tangled into the grasses and gave him a sense of reality as he took her.  Every hard thrust made her moan, and in hearing those delicate noises, he couldn't help but grunt out his appreciation as well.

Her nails clawed at him as he shoved himself into her, making her yelp a little at the intense force.  She was utterly pinned below him, in every way possible, and it made her heart thud erratically in excitement.  Being trapped by him was strangely satisfying.

He pulled out of her nearly fully, and then rammed back inside.  Gasping breaths followed the harsh movements as he relentlessly thrust.  He was filling her up like no one ever had before.  The size of his dick was reaching places that no man had ever reached.

“G-Go faster!” she begged, beginning to feel the full extent of their actions coiling about her stomach.  She groaned, tilting her head back as he littered her neck with bruises.  Their bodies slid against one another, slick with sweat, and she could hardly hold onto him in her dizzied state.  He nodded, face twisted in determination and satisfaction as he pumped into her tight opening again and again.

And then he was moaning suddenly, and the noise caught her off guard.  She gasped, arching her back as the coil in her abdomen snapped.  As she tightened around him, Iain seemed to realize what was happening and picked up his pace.  His hips pounded erratically against her.

He was gone then, releasing his seed deep within her as he came with her.  His eyes slid closed for a long, heavy minute as his lower body slowed down to just a few infrequently lazy thrusts. 

And then he was back in his home -- because she was his home -- with his fingers tangled into her hair and his lips inches from hers.  They stared at each other for a few seconds, but it took too much energy.  So instead, his mouth fell onto hers and he snatched up her waist, rolling her on top of him as their naked bodies began again beneath the clear Highland sky.


Wednesday, April 25, 2012

A North Italy Baby Daddy -- Nine Months

Character: North Italy

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

OC: Mina Saint-Germain, gentle, mysterious

Inspiration: I don't even know where this came from.  wrwefkmdfqe

// Prologue //

It had started out as many things did: with a glance.  How he had managed to catch a glimpse of her through the crowded, tourist infested streets of Rome was a question he could never answer.  Whether by some twist of fate or Italy's natural gravitation toward pretty girls, he was by her side in a moment's decision, leaving Germany standing alone and confused twenty feet away.

Love story's often had a way of being cliché and rather bland to the onlooker, but Mina had been utterly swept away by the time the sun had arched into darkness. 

Her life before this moment had been spent in an introverted manner, in which the object of romance didn't appeal to her quite as much as the annual paycheck did.  But as Mina looked out upon the whitewashed Trevi fountain and pondered at the way the moonlight itself seemed to spring from the flowing water, she realized that this was because she never had a reason to be anything but a workaholic.

The shocking touch of another's hand came into contact with her own, and Mina was pulled from her deep thoughts.  She found herself somewhere she never had before: staring into a stranger's eyes, feeling her heart pumping erratically inside her, and wondering if he was thinking on the same level of distraught passion as she was. 

// How It Happened //

Nine months later, Mina would never have thought that she'd be dating the very stranger she'd met in the streets of Italy, but fate has a way of twisting things around in the oddest way.  She would never have thought that she'd blush so much at the little gestures he'd give her -- the flowers, the smiles, the jokes -- but she was thankful for them all. 

She was also thankful that her bedroom door was decently soundproofed.  (She'd discovered this over a series of weeks and through long, not so complicated 'research'.)

A strange noise left her throat as her body was pushed down to the bed.  She'd been captured in the strangest of ways by the strangest of people.  But it was a welcome sort of capture, and she was very glad for it. 

"Feli-ciano…!  Oh!" her back arched and he gave her a sudden, hard thrust that made another moan bubble from her throat.  She would never have thought, nine months prior, that this man would worship her in such a way.

Words overflowed his lips, spilling into her ears.  She could hardly understand the muffled, rapid Italian, but it was erotic in a way that seemed to expel all the cold from within her.  Her fingers tunneled into his hair and she bucked her hips harshly against his.

He grasped her in the lightest touch, and yet it was tight and inescapable and needy.  He pulled her hips into his with each movement, rocking into her.  She moved when she could, but mostly it was just her arms, and her head, and her back that jerked from the pleasure.  Her lungs filled with air and then blew out, fermenting that pleasure into a gasping breath that made Feliciano shudder.

His words quickened just as his hips did.  His manhood was so deep within her, filling her up so much that she couldn't breathe anymore, or see, or hear.  She could only breathe him in: his musky scent, the smell of their lovemaking.  She could only see the flashes of his skin as it slid against hers, slick with sweat.  She could hear only the hastened murmurs of his voice, and the faint slapping of flesh, and the muffled creaking of the bed as it pounded into the wall.

And then, she could breathe in thick gasps of breath as she fell; and her eyes were diluted with images of him, swelling up within her, taking her, promising her with his gaze; and her ears were full of the sounds of their intermingled screams, and their grunts of passion, and the quick pants as they tumbled down into bliss.

Indeed, nine months before, Mina would never have thought that this stranger would be capable of stealing away every bit of control she'd thought she had.

// How You Told Him //

A rather odd occurrence that happens unknowingly to many people is when they find themselves telling their life's story to a stranger.  It often happens in a very offhanded manner, in which one comment is made simply to break the silence, and it is answered in a more profound way than intended by the original speaker.  Subsequently, it is much easier than one might think to give away all your secrets in a matter of moments…which is something Mina discovered.

Of course, keeping a secret so immense is definitely bound to be difficult, which is why she'd been struggling to do so for the past month. 

She should have known that it wouldn't have been hard to do when Feliciano was so kind and loving, though.  (Which was another matter discovered in a matter of moments.)

She broke the news in as much the same offhanded manner that a stranger might displace to another stranger.  It wasn't very romantic at all, or passionate or bold, but then again, Mina was never very open.  But Feliciano made up for that lack of openness in his response.

She figured, when he lifted her up to give her a joyous twirl around the kitchen tiles, that he was quite happy and very accepting of her little predicament.

// Epilogue //

Nine months later, Feliciano and Mina found themselves by the Trevi fountain once more.  Except this time, they were with two other people…er, babies that seemed quite comfortable in their carriage.

Feliciano slipped an arm around Mina and gave her a happy look.  His eyes crinkled up in the way that made her heart stutter in her chest, and she couldn't help but lean in and give his dimple a quick kiss…which made him smile even larger.

"It's a lovely day, ve?" he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, looking quite content to sit on the side of the fountain and just daydream.

Mina hummed her agreement, nestling against his side and turning her own eyes to her sleeping children.  They were almost identical to Italy, and even had his signature curl, albeit in a different area of their heads.  But their eyes, when open, were like gold.  And their disposition was often dreamy and happy go lucky just like their father.

Mina felt herself sigh.  Yes, nine months ago she would not have thought that her lovemaking would turn to this.  Eighteen months ago she would never have thought they'd be lovemaking at all.  But fate often has a way of twisting the world around, and this time, it was for the better.  Mina placed another kiss on her lover's cheek.  This time, it lingered.


Sunday, April 22, 2012

A Senri Lemon -- Control

Character: Senri

Fandom: +Anima

OC: Misha, braided blonde hair, green eyes

Inspiration: Camping

There is a limit as to how many heady looks a person can send in one day…or at least Misha thought there was.  Perhaps Senri didn't mean for his eyes to take on such a desiring quality each time he glanced at her over the heads of their companions, but she could detect hints of lust all the same.

And it was keeping her wide awake.  She couldn't count how many times she'd shifted in her quest for a comfortable position.  Of course, sleeping on the ground wouldn't really be classified as comfortable anyway, but it was usually better than this. 

But what was worse than not being able to sleep was having to lay so close to Senri and not reach out to him.  And also, the brightness of the full moon didn't help much either, because it illuminated every sweet shift of fabric and made the temptation even more difficult to cope with.

Their relationship was hard to explain.  They were more than friends -- much, much more than friends, actually -- but no one else knew about it.  Misha suspected that Nana suspected, but the others were clueless.  She wasn't sure why they didn't just come out and tell them, but Misha thought it had something to do with disrupting the friendly banter that they had all grown used to over the years.

She sighed softly and moved again, quietly changing position but feeling even more awake than before.  This was terribly annoying.  The only good thing about the situation was that Senri's back was to her, and that meant that she couldn't be distracted with staring at his face.

She slowly reached out to brush her finger over his back, bored out of her mind and not thinking how it might wake him.  There was something strangely sensual about the touch of another person, especially when the fabric of Senri's shirt was washed out linen and flowed over her skin so smoothly.

She splayed her fingers between his shoulder blades, eyes shifting halfway closed in wonderment.  Dragging a finger down his spine, Misha didn't even notice the shiver that wracked the man before her.  Indeed, it wasn't until he was rolling over to face her that she realized he was even awake at all.

"Senri?!" she scooted away as though she'd been shocked, a soft blush that could hardly be seen flushing her face.  "I though you were asleep," she whispered furtively.

His face, as always, was blank and expressionless.  But the moonlight lilted up an emotion that made her crave him.  She could nearly see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which were so deep that she thought she was utterly lost.

"…Senri..?" she breathed, but he was sitting up and didn't answer.  He gave her a single look before walking into the forest, and Misha had to scramble up so she didn't lose sight of him. 

When she had caught up with him, and her hand was curled again around the fabric of his linen-clad back, Misha felt her heart hammer with excitement.  She followed her secret lover as he lead her deeper into the woods.  The minutes were bathed in anticipation and something more, and each second forced a deeper realization to well up inside her…and a deeper desire.

When they finally stopped, they found themselves in a moonlit clearing surrounded by tall trees.  Misha hardly had time to glance around before Senri was out of her grasp, turning around a few steps away so that he faced her.  The space between them felt like no space at all, because the connection of their eyes built a bridge around them. 

She could hardly breathe.  Misha could only stand there and watch as Senri pulled at his tunic, tugging it over his head and revealing the muscular chest that made Misha's heart splutter beneath her skin.  She desperately wanted to walk over to him and admire his firm body, but she found herself unable to move her feet.  His eyes kept her grounded.

She didn't expected him to remove the rest of his clothes, but to her surprise he did just that.  His lithe fingers tugged on the drawstring that kept his pants up and they gently fell to the ground, leaving him bare from head to toe. 

The moonlight drifted over him and gave him an unearthly look, dipping into the contours of his body and illuminating his skin.  He looked utterly beautiful.  The sentiment further stole her breath away.

Finally, she could move.  But she didn't go to him.  Instead, she followed his lead and pulled up her shirt, slowly drawing it over her head and throwing it on the ground.  Her eyes locked with Senri's and she began unwrapping the strips of fabric that were around her chest.  When they fell away, she felt a freedom that made stunned her.

The feeling of liberty increased as her hands drifted down her abdomen and fingered the hem of her pants.  They came off as slowly as the shirt had, with a little bit of hesitation.  Mostly, she was hesitant about the emotions she was feeling, and how she thought she might not be able to control herself.

But her caution was thrown to the wind as soon as she, too, stood bare before him.  She could feel his eyes roving her body, and the still expressionless face he had on made her shiver with the desire to make him feel alive.

She stepped forward, slowly at first but then faster, because she couldn’t stand being so apart when they were so obviously in need of one another.  When she was inches away, she paused, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.  And then, they moved down, over the smooth planes of his chest and over the cords of muscle in his biceps.  She wanted to kiss him, but she waited for him to do so instead.

He did, a moment later.  His hands tilted her chin up and he leaned down to capture them with his.  His kiss was so mesmerizing that she immediately caved, wrapping her arms around his stomach and splaying her hands out over his back.

It felt so right to be like this with him: completely naked and pressed against each other like this.  She could feel the impact that it caused her body as her arousal pounded through her.

He stepped forward, taking her backwards with him as he pressed her against a nearby tree.  The rough bark felt foreign but not unwelcome on her skin.  It sent a thrill of anticipation to race through her.

His eyes sparkled down at her and she could see him for what he was and more.  Her arms rose to capture him in an embrace just as his hands began moving over her, running over her breasts and thumbing her taut nipples.  They didn't linger there for long before his hands were moving again, dipping into the silkiness that was her womanhood.

There was something so manly about him then -- like he was in complete control of his actions -- and his strength made her want him even more.  Her head tilted back and she moaned, hips moving against his fingers as he pleasured her.  He forcefully added another and another, until he was stretching her and manipulating her to his heart's content.

His name bubbled over her lips, shaky and pleading for more of him.  She gripped his shoulders and threw a leg around his waist, trying to add more friction between them.  It didn't work, though.  Senri went at his own pace and it was nothing short of torture.

"Please…please, S-Sen…ri…" she gasped as his fingers suddenly stopped, and a whine escaped her throat.  She swallowed thickly and looked at him, only to find him staring at her with heavy lust.  He growled in a husky way and leaned in, removing his fingers from her wet clit and bringing them up to her mouth.  Immediately, she licked them, all the while keeping her eyes locked with his.  The effect was mindblowing.

He leaned down to kiss her just as his hands slipped under her butt and hauled her up.  Her legs wrapped around his waist and she felt his thick erection pushing against her.  She responded to the kiss with a passion that conveyed all her angst and want.

He kept her to the tree as he arranged himself, guiding his dick into her folds.  He was going terribly slow, but somehow it was making her more excited than she'd thought it would.  They stared at each other as he gently took her, filling her up in an unhurried way that seemed to speak volumes.  And she loved every second of it, and worshipped every lazy thrust he gave her, and couldn't think of any better way to make love to him.

Their breath remained intermingled as they moved.  Hasty kisses were placed here and there, but mostly they just focused on their hips.  Their thrusts were soft and delicate, but controlled as well, and it made Misha want to scream in her utter satisfaction.

But she didn't.  She stayed painfully silent, almost hyperaware of their sleeping companions close by.  She desperately wanted to say his name, but it only came out as a breathed whisper that drifted past his ear and then disappeared.  But it was enough, and the sound of it made Senri thrust faster, deeper inside of her, ramming her into the rough bark and controlling her as no one else had.

And then, as the bark left heavy imprints on her back, she felt the coil within her stomach tighten and release.  Her hips bucked into his and she let out a strained moan that washed over them and made Senri grunt in response.  Their orgasms crashed into one another and they came.

"Senri…Sen-Senri!" her throat closed up and she could only murmur and whine and keen as her back arched into him and her legs tightened around him.  His thrusts slowed to an impassioned pace, lazily drawing her back down to earth but never letting her go, or leave the warmth of his arms.

She buried her head into the conjuncture of his neck and let out a deep, pleased sigh.  Exhaustion ebbed at her as the passion dispersed, and she suddenly felt as though she could sleep for hours, even days.  Unknowingly, she drifted off to sleep with her back still against the tree and Senri still buried deep within her core.


Saturday, April 21, 2012

A Peeta Mellark Lemon -- Realizing Reality

Character: Peeta Mellark

Fandom: The Hunger Games

OC: Apple Caliko Grayson, but Peeta calls her Caliko

Inspiration: Baking bread. 

Oh, and just a warning to some of you: This contents of the story are switched up a bit and doesn't follow the original plot with Katniss, Peeta, and Gale.  Katniss and Gale have been together since her first hunger games and she didn't enter the Quarter Quell.

It was one of those lazy, stay at home sort of days.  The sun had long since retreated behind the thick clouds that littered the sky and the work room that Caliko and Peeta were in was bathed in a strange, eerie kind of light as a result.

Other than the gentle ticking of the clock above the workroom door, the only sound was the creak of the table as Peeta kneaded a bit of dough.  He had such an intense look in his eyes that Caliko knew he was hardly here at all, but rather in some far off place that probably had nothing to do with bread, or District 12, or peace.

His mind was often gone these days, and he was always remembering his time spent in the Arena.  She remembered, too, for she had not only spent her own time there during the 72nd Games, but had also rooted for him and Katniss during the entirety of the previous ones.

When they had both returned from the Quarter Quell, they shared the nightmares that had resurrected at the sight of death and the Capitol; had known the comfort of someone who had understood; and, upon returning to District 12, realized that they had become something that required another to survive.

She watched him, staring openly as he kneaded the bread.  She had a chunk of dough in front of her, as well, but it remained ignored.  His features were arranged in a way that she was quite familiar with, and it told her that he was there, fighting off Cato and painting himself into the river; staring into wolverine eyes that matched those that had been his enemies; feeling the deathly cool texture of the Nightlock berries on his tongue.

And then she noticed other things, like how his breathing had increased to a shallow, airy pant, and how his rolled up shirt sleeves were falling down his arms but he wasn't realizing.

"…Peeta," she murmured, voice barely drifting past her lips.  But the room was so silent that it was enough, and Peeta was immediately back, head jerked toward her and staring at her as though she wasn't really there, like she was some sort of figment of his imagination.  He was still in the Arena.

Her gaze didn't linger on his because she didn't want to frighten him.  This had happened before, and so as she slowly took a step forward, she was unsurprised when all his attention was directed toward her in a rather menacing way.  He conceived her as a threat; a Tribute.

But she was unafraid, because she had faced her fair share of dangers too, and Peeta wasn’t one of them.  She hand slowly reached out to touch his face and, when her fingers drifted over his cheekbone, the spell shattered and Peeta took a deep, gasping breath, as though he had just been drowning.

His hand slipped over hers and he suddenly enveloped her with his arms, dragging her to his chest as he breathed her in.  She didn't care that his hands had flour all over them, or that they were in the back room of his bakery, or even that he was using her as a way to come back to reality.  She wanted him to use her; to need her. 

"Shhh, shhh," she found herself whispering into his hair.  He was shaking, sapping in her arms.  Her hands folded over him, drifting through his blonde hair and down his back, clutching at his linen shirt and untying his apron, because it was just in the way.  He buried his head into her neck and let out a strangled noise.

Something happened within her at that moment, and she knew that there was only one way to forget the memories.  She gently tugged his head back and caught his eye.  They weren't at home, or in the privacy of their bedroom, but it didn't really matter, and she didn't hesitate as she leaned in to press a kiss to his mouth.

He responded immediately, tightening his grasp on her and returning her kiss.  It was a frenzied sort of kiss: one that seemed to fit the moment perfectly.  But it seemed to work, because Peeta was with her now.  He wasn't trapped in the Arena, or remembering it in the Bakery.  He was with her now, and nothing else really mattered.

Her fingers lightly tunneled into his hair, drawing his head closer to her as her tongue raced over his lips.  He groaned, opening his mouth to her, and their tongues met one another in a vivid battle.  She was gasping now, because everything felt like it was moving so fast.  The way Peeta's hands were running over her body was inspiring and she could hardly remember what had happened before they had been intertwined.  But that was good, because they needed to forget.

Caliko was quite aware that the room they were in wasn't at all fit for this sort of thing.  There was flour all over the tables and dough waiting for the oven.  So she drew back from the intense kiss and let out a sigh.  Her fingers drifted down his face, curling over his lips.  He caught her hand and kissed it, eyes never leaving hers. 

Her other hand touched the collar of his shirt as though itching to take it off.  She didn't.  Instead, she breathed, "Let's go."  And, as Peeta was nodding in agreement, Caliko was pulling him behind her and entering another room.

The storage room wasn't an ideal place, but they absolutely couldn't waste the time going home, because it was a twenty minute walk to the Victor's Village.  So Peeta closed the door behind him and they were gone again, almost immediately wrapping themselves in each other's arms and allowing their lips to do the talking.

She fingered his collar again, and this time, ventured to undo the buttons.  He broke the kiss to watch her.  There was a heady look in his eyes that made her shiver, because the message in them was a clear as day.  When the last button was pulled, she slowly slid his shirt over his shoulders and it fell to the floor.  As always, she felt herself having difficulty breathing as she came into contact with his bare chest. 

Her hands slid down him, brushing over his shoulders and down his pectorals.  She was utterly aware of his gaze on her face, and it made the moment that more intense.  Her fingers hesitantly touched the hem of his pants and she looked up into the bright blue of his eyes.

They stood there for what seemed like forever, not talking.  His gaze seemed to be giving her permission, and so, as her fingers moved, he leaned down to kiss her once more.  His pants slid over his hips, past his knees, and became a puddle on the floor that was quickly kicked away.

She couldn’t breath now, because his bare body was pressed so delightfully to hers and it was stunning.  It felt strange to be so clothed when he was so naked, and apparently he thought so too, because his large hands were moving again, running into her shirt and sliding up her back.  She caved into him, littering him with kisses as he pulled her shirt away.  Whispered words flew from his lips and it made her want him all the more, because he was describing, and explaining, and depicting everything he wanted to do with her; how he was going to forget.

When his hands finally paused, and her clothing was tangled with his on the floor, they stood chest to chest with one another.  His eyes admired her, taking in everything that she was and more, because he could draw out things that she didn't even know she had, and feelings that she hadn't felt in years.

And then he was stepping forward, and she was stepping back, and it felt like the start of a dance as they moved across the small room.  And it was, in a way, because they were graceful for killers; poised for Victors; and they were sure they didn't have any right to be.

But nothing could change the moment.  He lifted her up against the wall and his hands clutched at her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him.  She felt his erection pressing against her folds, like a promise just waiting to be fulfilled, and just like that, the foreplay was over.  Because they never really needed that anyway: all they needed was entanglement and unification, because it was the only way to forget and to remember and to renew themselves all at the same time.

He pushed himself into her, slowly, gently.  But she didn't want him to go gently, and so she brought her lips up to his and portrayed her feelings into a passionate kiss.  He grunted, tightening his grasp on her legs, and moved his lips faster.  She didn't need to adjust to him.  In fact, she reveled in the discomfort that first came with the sex, because it was a way of realizing reality. 

Her back arched and her breasts were pressed against him.  Their breath was intermingled just as their bodies were.  Their hips moved at a reckless pace, spinning out of control as their instincts took over.  She moaned, clawed at his back, twisted her fingers into his hair just as he kissed her intensely and grounded her.

Obtaining the essence of another person was difficult to do, because it was mental and physical and emotional all at the same time.  But as they raced toward release, Caliko realized that she already had Peeta's essence.  She'd had it since the nights spent together in the Quarter Quell, and had fostered it every night since. 

She entwined herself around him, pleading with him to go faster and deeper and to take her with all he had.  And he did.  He absolutely took her breath away as he ground into her, fingers flying over her body and pressing against sensitive areas that made her gasp.  And then she was leaning back, staring unseeingly at the slow ceiling, and Peeta was burying his face against her neck as he let himself go.

She went with him, jerking against his hips as she felt her own release coil around the pit of her stomach.  They moaned together as they came, feeling completely in control and yet completely not.  It was a moment that could hardly be put into words, because it was a sense of bliss that was ten thousand times more intense.

And then, Peeta's thrusts slowed and became lazy.  He opened his eyes and looked up at his lover.  A thankful look was plastered in his gaze, and she returned it with a soft smile.  She leaned down to give him another kiss and was blown away by the lingering desire that still complemented it.

She giggled lightly and he slowly brought her down.  When her feet were firmly planted on the ground, he kissed her again with more of that desire, and her mind made itself up as her wrapped her arms around him.

"Peeta," she murmured, whispering against his mouth.  He paused to look at her, a question in his eyes.  "It's around closing time.  I think we should go home."

The sentiment was appreciated, because his only response was another sweet kiss.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

A Ryohei Sasagawa Lemon -- To Be Extreme

Character: Ryohei Sasagawa

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: Suzuna, reserved but not shy

Inspiration: Somethin' about boldness, I think

There are certain things that Suzuna doesn't understand about her lover.  For one, she doesn't get how he can be so loud and passionate all the time, about the smallest things.  She doesn't understand why he sometimes acts naïve about things he already knows.  She can't comprehend why he insists on going 'training' each morning before the sun even rises.

But then again, she likes it when he's passionate because it makes her feel alive.  She enjoys seeing him act naïve because she thinks it's cute.  And though she hates it when he goes jogging each and every morning -- and occasionally doesn't come home until early afternoon -- she very much appreciates the sight of him hot and sweaty.  (A fact that he knows quite well, despite his forgetfulness.)

So even though she wants to get angry at him for coming back so late and immediately asking her to make him a big lunch to quell his immense hunger, Suzuna usually just ends up trying not to feel him up…a feat that, as people say, is easier said than done.

His arms briefly wrap around her before darting away.  He tells her hello with an exuberant expression and doesn't seem to notice the fact that his face is flushed and his breathing is labored.  She doesn't really want to ask him why he's so out of breath, because she has a feeling that his 'training' is usually much more than a simple jog.  She isn't blind to his participation in the Mafia, but prefers to keep well away from said connections.

"I've made you coffee," she tells him, and watches as he crosses the room to snatch up the dish towel.  He runs it over his forehead and she grabs it back with mock rage.  "Go on and take a shower instead of dirtying up the kitchen!"  But he only smiles because he knows she's not mad and could never be when he is standing in that tight muscle shirt, all sweaty and appreciative.

He stalks toward her, a strange glint in his eye that makes her raise one speculative eyebrow.  Before she knows what's happening, her back is being pressed to the counter and his arms are caging her between it and his chest. 

She almost can't bear being trapped against his chest when he's in this condition.  It makes her heart rush into her throat and her carefully thought out words crumble into forgetfulness.  Her hands raise up to rest on him in an attempt to create a bridge between them.  But the heat that radiates off of him only grinds her down further, stealing away any self control she may have built up before his return.

"I think…"  What?  What was she going to say?  She is grasping for something -- anything -- to fill the shattering silence.  Swallowing thickly, she mumbles, "I think I'll go get your shower ready for you."

She makes to leave, but his arms won't allow her to, and he keeps her pined to the counter while he watches her leisurely.  When she glances up at him, his eyes convey a sort of amusement that they always seem to have.  But this time, it is a darker amusement, as though he is utterly manipulating his situation right now.  With a glower, she decides that two can play at this game.

"What's wrong?" she mocks, lips drawing back into a smirk.  "You don't want me to get your shower ready?  You don't want to get" -- kiss -- "all -- kiss -- "wet?"  Her mouth finally discovers his and then she is kissing him deeply, drinking in the delightful taste of his lips as she presses herself to his chest. 

He responds slowly, taking her up into his arms and moving his mouth gingerly with hers as his fingers caress her cheeks.  And then, the moment for gentility is over and he is enthusiastically forced into a more passionate kiss as she tugs him closer, burying her fingers into his short, damp hair and throwing all her desire into her actions.

Somehow, as they curl themselves into each other's arms, they stumble toward the bedroom.  Neither remember much of it -- only the odd trip or slam into a hard surface -- but can see each other as they finally reach the threshold to their shared room, and that's all that really matters.

And then, Ryohei is being suddenly jerked down and he falls back onto the mattress with a complete madwoman following him down.  (When he tells her that, she only grins, because she knows it's all too true.)

She is very comfortable sitting atop him like this.  Her elbows form a cage around his head as their mouths met once more, and they are once again pulled down into a senseless, bottomless pit as they lose themselves.

She can feel the beginnings of what will probably -- if she has any say in it -- be a raging erection pressing into her thigh.  The feel of it strengthens her own lust and allows her to morph into someone far from the relaxed, reserved girl she is normally.  He makes her crazy, bold, and unstoppable, and she makes him strangely helpless in a way he only ever feels around her.

Their tongues are only just beginning a fierce battle when her nails wrack down his chest and leave him a shivering mess.  He grunts, catching her waist with his large hands because he needs something to hold onto.  He can't think and can't form coherent words.  He forgets who he is and just lets his instinct take over: a feat that is quite easy for him to do.

As her hands slip into his shirt, he winces at the coldness.  The fabric restricts her movements, but it doesn't matter to Suzuna.  She angles her touch upward, brushing over the areas that she knows makes him crazy with want.  By the time she reaches his nipples, she hardly has to touch them before he is responding, lifting his body up onto his elbows and kissing her with more intensity.

She moans into the kiss and pushes her body down onto his hard on.  His answering grunt makes her kiss him harder.  Her tongue swirls with his and his taste nearly sends her overboard.

She slides his shirt up over his head, breaking their kiss for just a moment before delving right back into it.  The shirt hits the ground somewhere beside them, immediately forgotten as Suzuna pushes him forcefully back down onto the mattress.  When he is laying submissively beneath her, watching her through hazy gray eyes, she decides that it's high time to step it up.

This time, when her nails wrack down his chest, his reaction is a lot different.  He bites his bottom lip to keep from groaning and then sighs, because he can't not make some sort of noise.  His fingers twitch around her waist and begin to move downward to grasp onto her hips, but it makes no difference to her because she's suddenly moving, crawling backwards down his legs.

He knows what's coming because he can see her intentions clearly in the way her eyes glint up at him.  But nothing can prepare him for the overwhelming sensation of her lips curling around his cock.  He clenches his teeth and his head slams down onto the bed.  He stares sightlessly at the ceiling, only aware of the way she is utterly controlling him, and how he doesn't even care.

Finally, after the initial pleasure zings into duller, lengthened satisfaction, Ryohei brings himself to look down at her.  This is better, he decides.  Seeing her like this, glorifying him, strangles him in the most gratifying way.  His eyes slip halfway closed in a sight of lazy desire and his hand reaches out to tangle into her hair.

But he doesn't pull her farther, or force her in any way.  She has him wrapped around her finger and in the bedroom -- in her domain -- she dominates.

When she looks up at him, Ryohei thinks he will never be able to look away.  The connection of their gazes somehow effects their actions, almost cementing them in a manner that leaves them both wanting more.  But she can't pull away, not now, because the thought of pleasing him like this has been on her mind ever since he walked through the door half an hour before.

Her tongue races over him, lapping at the sensitive nerve that darts beneath him.  She buries him as far into her mouth as she can, but he is so big that she is forced to use her hand to occupy the rest.  It doesn't matter, though, because it still makes Ryohei agonizingly pleased.

She tries to keep it up for as long as possible, but it's difficult.  It's hard because of her unwavering need to feel him within her.  She is tempted to reach down and please herself, but she doesn't dare because the only fingers she wants doing that is Ryohei's.

She slowly stops, releasing him from her mouth with a vulgar pop.  When she looks back up at him, he looks like he really wants to come.  She sends him a small, apologetic smile and crawls back up his body like a cat, pausing only to press a wild kiss onto his bruised mouth.

He tastes himself in the kiss, but also her own desire.  And he knows that taking her is long overdue.  He reaches up to brush her hair back and gives her a questioning look that she returns with another deep kiss.  Her hands dart back to her body and haphazardly lift her shirt over her head.

The fact that she has been wearing all her clothes has not been overlooked.  Ryohei definitely doesn't waste any time as his hands slid behind her and he wrestles with her bra.  He seems to be having difficulty with it, though, and so once again he is pushed back to the bed and forced to watch her take it off herself.  As soon as it is unclipped, though, he jumps right back in wholeheartedly, cupping her full breasts with his strong hands.

He doesn't linger long because the ache of his manhood doesn’t let him.  He gives her pert nipples a tweak before running his touch down her stomach and circling the hem of her jeans.  Again, he doesn't linger.  Her pants are halfway down her thighs before she can even realize what's going on, and then she is left in just a pair of flimsy, useless panties that are far more trouble than they look.

Indeed, Ryohei doesn't even attempt to take them off.  Instead, he turns his attention elsewhere as his mouth leans down to capture her nipple.  She closes her eyes for a moment, loosing herself, and then remembers where they are and what they're doing.  Her fingers grab at his hair and she pulls him forward, pressing her bust to his face at the same time that his hands force her hips over his erection.

It forces a simultaneous reaction that leaves them both whimpering.  He sits up more, arms abandoning their perch on her body in favor of holding up his weight.  She tugs his head back so that she can give him the kiss she's been holding in -- the one that screamed out every single hint of love and adoration for him -- and then she is forcing her panties to the side and jerking down onto his dick.

For a moment, neither quite know what's happening because it's happened so fast.  It takes her only a minute to get used to the familiar sensation of him inside of her, though, which is ultimately good because Ryohei can't take another moment without moving.  She is so tight that he has to fight the urge to just come right then and there, and even when he has a handle on the sensation it's still lingering behind every stray movement.

Finally, Suzuna curls her arms around his neck and they move together.  It isn't a very fast pace, contrary to the intensity of their actions beforehand.  Rather, they are able to convey every emotion felt that day, as though they are having a private conversation where their emotions are completely free.  They move and tangle and breath each other in, happy to just be close like this, without any hindrances or interruptions.  

They aren't united for very long because they are so completely ready to come, and have been for so long now.  So they release slowly, lovingly, in the same way their bodies have moved since they were first unified.  They cave into each other delicately, taking their time as the extreme results of their lovemaking rush through them.

Then everything is over and done with, and they are tangled up in each other's arms and laying together in a silent heap of limbs, and Suzuna is softly murmuring, "I forgot to get your shower ready…"

But it doesn't matter anymore, because Ryohei doesn't need a shower: he just needs her.  So he presses another kiss to her mouth and his hands begin to rove her body once more, and they fall back into the pleasure that they are only just recovering from with an exuberance that leaves them breathless.