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College hit Misaki like a truck.

Several trucks all at once, she felt. It wasn’t as if she hated it or anything, far from it. To finally strive for something she truly wanted was a good feeling; it was the process of actually attaining the goal that provided her with all the stress she could ever ask for and more.

She was naturally lazy and she knew it. Verbally she preferred to call herself relaxed or laid back because it sounded a little less degrading. She wasn’t always like that of course. There were a few particular things she really threw herself into. One of them had become music, but not necessarily the act of studying said topic, which was sort of required if you wanted to become a composer.

Outside of that there wasn’t really much she dedicated herself to besides her younger siblings - now in high school - and her confusingly stable relationship with Kokoro Tsurumaki, with whom she lived.

One thing had lead to another as they say, during their final year of high school. More accurately Kokoro had openly and loudly pined after her for a laundry list of reasons, and Misaki responded by lying in bed all night, kept awake by unmedicated insomnia and internal conflicts about why on earth she would ever want to be with someone like that.

Kokoro dragged her around, barely acknowledged the work she did for the band, told her what to do and when to do it. She wasn’t used to not getting her way, a stereotypical trait of sheltered rich girls. At the very least, Kokoro had a heart of gold and that was admirable.

Really, Misaki should have seen the signs much earlier.

She knew now that Kokoro had never intended to make her angry, or come off the way she did when she wasn’t listening. She just had a menagerie of legitimate attention issues, wherein she selectively paid attention to only certain things that she was interested in.

When Misaki shot to the top of that list, everything got interesting.

Back to the signs though - she’d really started wondering about herself when she pulled nearly two all-nighters in a row to finish a composition for no particular reason. It was as if the bags under her eyes, darker as the weeks went by, gave her the drive to keep going. To prove she was struggling? She didn’t know how to describe it.

The real fuse lit itself right before they graduated. Though she wasn’t exactly inclined to admit it to anyone (a fear of questions she couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. She was still a very private person after all), she had a girlfriend and any normal person would want to take full advantage of that fact. Especially when it was Kokoro, who had a bed four times the size of anyone else’s and probably a few hundred times more comfortable to boot.

She did things with Kokoro, in the dark.

Kokoro, who was less clueless than Misaki had anticipated, was elated to discover that having sex was fun and easy to do when your parents were mostly absent. That summer had been a busy one, a mattress full of memories and a mess of half-assed explanations to carefully avoid revealing she’d defiled anyone as pure as Kokoro who was (on the outside), all smiles and an avid fan of crayons even now.

The most vivid memory she had from before they moved in together was embarrassing to recall, even to herself. It was also a turning point, Misaki had always thought, the moment when she realized what a twisted person she was. Just because she felt twisted didn’t mean she was a bad person. She just wanted certain things, craved certain things that made her feel like she was a bad person.

Kokoro had a libido to match her hyperactive personality and it showed, very very obviously. At first it put Misaki off, feeling inadequate about being tired already, before they even began most of the time. It didn’t matter how many times Kokoro told her otherwise, that she was always enough, that they were still having fun together and that was all that mattered. She still felt it.

One fateful night, Misaki had called it quits when she was done, lying back against the cushy pillows and red silk sheets beneath Kokoro’s regal canopy bed. More achy than usual, she’d croaked out an apology and some slurred words about not having slept at all the night before. Routine dictated that Kokoro would hush her and lie down, insisting she was fine and tell Misaki to get some much needed sleep.

But that time, Kokoro had remained looming over her on her knees, straddling her hips and slick with sweat and saliva, bright half-lidded eyes accompanying a sly smile.

Wordlessly, she’d taken Misaki’s hand in hers, arranged her fingers and shoved them up inside herself.

Misaki hadn’t known what to do in that moment, transfixed by what she was witnessing as Kokoro manuevered her wrist, telling her to keep her fingers straight and not to move until she was finished. Those minutes in the dim moonlight had taken an eternity, Kokoro hunched over her and gasping her name while she essentially lay there and did nothing. The spark in her stomach had flared unexpectedly when her partner, reaching blindly with her other hand for something to hold onto as she finished, had grabbed a fistful of dark brown hair and pulled, hard , hard enough to drag her head up so they could look each other in the eyes during those final moments.

Only one thing had flashed through Misaki’s brain as she lost herself in the liquid gold of Kokoro’s gaze.

Again. Do it again.

“D-do that again.” She’d spit out, shaking and unsure. Kokoro’s hand had loosened a little, and Misaki took it in hers and closed it tighter, until she’d felt the pricks against her skull as the strands of hair were pulled taut.

She would never forget the way Kokoro smiled at her after that, soft and loving and mischievous all at once as she grabbed a second fistful of hair on the other side and shoved Misaki down against the pillow with enough force to pull the breath out of her.

Kokoro had followed up by shuffling her hips until she was straddling Misaki’s face expectantly. From there the night had devolved into heart-pounding experimentation as they learned together what Misaki truly wanted, and how far Kokoro was willing to go to make her happy.

It all came down to happiness after all, didn’t it?

But those troubling and confusing times had long since passed. Now, Misaki knew what she wanted, and Kokoro, beyond talented at just about anything she tried, knew how to give it to her. It made her preferred method of stress relief all the sweeter. And man was she stressed today.

Three back to back exams yesterday and a severe lack of sleep, precious winks spurned by the absence of her partner who still walked the thin line between carrying on the Tsurumaki business and abandoning it altogether. It bored Kokoro, she knew, but periodic business trips guaranteed them access to the Tsurumaki funds and a relatively easy life.

Oh yeah, that was the other thing - the money.

Misaki had come from a place of pinched yen, and so ignoring Kokoro’s literal piles of cash had always been easy. Mostly.

But money was money. Tsurumaki money was paying for her classes. It paid for their lavish apartment, her textbooks, any instrument she wanted and dozens of things she didn’t need. It was what she didn’t need that tickled her in a way she used to hate, until Kokoro, terrifyingly observant when it came to Misaki, told her something she’d needed to hear all her life.

Her words of wisdom came with the gift of a kiss and 400,000 yen gold plated headphones, the same gold Misaki saw reflected in Kokoro’s eyes and draped over her shoulders, the long fan of glistening strands that stretched across their sheets and rolled over pillows, shining in the sunlight.

Gold. Money. Kokoro. Love. Pleasure. Pain.

It all came together as Kokoro whispered in her ear.

“It’s okay to be greedy, Misaki. We’re all a little selfish, aren’t we?”

Kokoro really did spoil her.

And Misaki loved every minute of it.

 

---

 

The teasing began in the morning right in the middle of Misaki’s first lecture. Now in her third year, patience wore thin and she often sat in the back of the room where she could nap with less of a chance of being spotted.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she was happy for the distraction.

Kokoro: what do you want for dinner tonight ~~ ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

A strange question considering that she wasn’t supposed to be back from her business trip for another two days.

Misaki: Are you at home?

Kokoro: i might be (`◔ ω ◔´)

Of course she was.

In the last week and a half, Misaki had slept maybe a total of twenty hours, lying wide awake with her phone on the pillow beside her and Kokoro’s voice on the other end. It didn’t really help, but she liked to pretend it did. Really it just made her more, uh… lovesick? Would that be the word for it? Attention starved, maybe.

And now Kokoro had just shown up at home and started texting her as if she’d never been gone in the first place. Her parents had chosen the worst, most agonizing week of all to whisk her away. Kokoro knew she wouldn’t be sleeping much if at all.

Kokoro: shall we get takeout?

Misaki: Why? Not up to cooking?

Kokoro: are you???

Misaki: Absolutely not.

Kokoro: same!!! i guess we should go to bed early tonight then ( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡

Ah, so this was her game.

When they were younger she did things like this too, without knowing that all she was really doing was winding Misaki up. Now she knew, probably, and said things like that to her deliberately. Probably.

She never did give Misaki a straight answer when she asked about it. Was she doing it on purpose? It didn’t matter either way. Kokoro played her own games by her own rules and that was part of what made her so exciting. But surely with over a week between the two of them, Kokoro was feeling the itch too, right? She had to test her theory.

Misaki: I’ve been really stressed out while you’ve been away. Worse than usual.

That was Misaki speak for ‘can we please have sex or I’ll die’ and it had been since they’d started sleeping together, because it felt embarrassing to ask in any other way. It was petty considering what they got up to with each other nowadays. Misaki knew she was being childish, and Kokoro probably did too.

Kokoro: early bedtime sounds good then!! you should have a nice bath, that always relaxes me. with lots of bubbles too

Misaki: Great. I’m sure that will help.

Misaki grumbled a little in her seat and pulled her cap down to shadow what was surely a reddening face. She had no idea what her professor had been talking about for the last ten minutes or so, vision now clouding with the image of Kokoro lounging in the bath with her.

Of course she could always just get over herself and straight up ask for what she wanted, though that was a game of russian roulette she wasn’t sure she wanted in on. Sometimes Kokoro played her part a little too well, and the bullet in the gun was a week long ordeal of teasing and playing dumb while Misaki withered away. A series of carefully timed touches, calculated responses and false hopes would claw at her until Kokoro decided what they were going to do.

Because in the end, Misaki’s satisfaction hinged on what Kokoro was in the mood for. That was what made their dance so attractive, after all, that she had no control. She was kept on a short leash, sometimes literally, and it made her sweat.

Misaki tapped her pencil against her notebook and looked back down at her phone. Maybe if she pulled the trigger, she’d be lucky enough to take the bullet.

 

---

 

The entire rest of the day had sucked more than usual thanks to her brief text exchange. Every class had dragged on for decades and she couldn’t focus very well on what anyone was saying so her notes were relatively lackluster. Drifting in and out of her thoughts, she’d rubbed the dark lines under her eyes raw for lack of something better to do with her hands.

She’d been formulating what to text to Kokoro all day and had come up with exactly nothing, a little odd considering how much she despised the long stretches they spent apart. She should be bursting at the seams, asking Kokoro how her meetings went and if her dad was still mad at her for brushing off what was supposed to be her job.

Did the word ‘job’ even mean anything in that context? Kokoro had half a business degree and hated every second it took to get it before she dropped out. Her family usually had something to say about it every time they interacted. Mentioning it would probably kill the mood though, if it was even a mood to begin with. Misaki had hope.

At the end of the evening she had to practically drag herself to the train station, holding her text conversation open in her hand the entire way. She didn’t know what to do and now her lack of sleep was mixing in with her excitement at the prospect of seeing Kokoro’s glowing face again. The feeling was odd.

Her phone vibrated as the train pulled into the platform and she did her best to keep her straight face on.

Kokoro: are you on your way home (°◡°♡).:。~~

Misaki: I’m about to get on the train.

She realized her mistake as soon as she replied. If Kokoro was playing ball then it was a setup. Lord knows why embarrassment got Misaki going, but she should have realized it years ago when she failed time and time again to quit their old band.

Embarrassing her was easy , especially when you were as absolutely shameless as Kokoro was. A train full of people, crammed in together during the evening rush? It had happened before and it was going to happen again.

Sure enough her phone dinged, and before she could stuff it back in her pocket she couldn’t help but pause a moment as a photo of Kokoro in a lacy red bra she’d never seen before flash across the screen. She was leaning on the table with her arms crossed under her chest, very clearly pushing her boobs up on purpose. It was like they barely fit in there. Where did she get that? When?

Kokoro: do you think this looks nice (´∀`)♡

She wanted to reply, she really did, but she’d forgotten where she was for those fleeting seconds and nearly threw her phone across the entire car when a familiar voice floated over her shoulder.

“That’s not safe for Moca-chan.”

“Ergh,” Misaki stumbled forward, trying to get away and failing because they were still boxed in by other humans.

She clumsily shoved her phone in her hoodie pocket and stepped on Moca’s foot with purpose.

“Ow, hey! Ol’ Moca’s just looking out for her pure virgin eyes!”

“Maybe keep your eyes off my screen then?” Misaki hissed, voice much too high.

She felt Moca get crammed up against her back as the train halted and some of the people around them shoved their way out. Of course they’d end up in the same car today. Misaki often saw her during the week because they lived two stations apart, and Moca got off work just before Misaki finished school. Usually they only made small talk, but Moca was a loud mouth and a bigger tease than she was ready to deal with. She was also the other local college drop-out, next to Kokoro, despite her excellent grades.

“Did her boobs get bigger?”

“Did your ego?”

Moca laughed, uncomfortably close. “Moca-chan is still the same genius she always was. And Misaki-chan is still embarrassed to talk about her giiirlfriend. It’s been how many years?”

The train jerked and Misaki reached for the nearest pole, which was behind Moca. She turned around so she could glare directly into pale green eyes.

“I don’t talk about her to you and you know why.”

Moca lifted a finger and drew a fake tear down her cheek. “Aww, but I tell you about Ran all the time. Did you know her chest hasn’t grown at all since our second year of high school?”

“I didn’t want to know that. There’s a reason we don’t invite you to izakaya, you know.”

The “we” was a reference to herself, Sayo, and Arisa, the latter two being the only high school friends she saw regularly besides Moca. They had the privilege of girl-talk because they were responsible, reliable, and extremely unlikely to reveal anything private to anyone else.

“Ah, you’re missing out. You could be graced by Moca-chan’s presence, but instead you’re all big wimps.”

“I’d rather be a wimp than talk to you about anything even remotely private. Some of us have moral standards.”

Moca snickered. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you were staring at your girlfriend’s tits on a crowded train.”

Misaki’s face heated and she tightened her grip on the pole.

“I-I wasn’t, that’s not… Kokoro does it on purpose!”

“Does what on purpose? You’re confusing poor Moca-chan!”

“I mean, she knew I was on the train, I just told her. So she...wait, no. I’m not saying anything.”

Stupid Moca. Stupid Moca taking advantage of her while she was clearly flustered, shielding herself with nothing but sarcastic quips and thinly veiled insults.

“Are you sure?” Moca prodded. “You don’t wanna clear that up for me?”

The train’s intercom signaled that they were finally pulling into Misaki’s stop, people shuffling about them to get to the door. Misaki really did enjoy Moca’s company, despite her constant pestering. They were usually an even match on the witty comebacks scale and it was fun to duel with her from time to time, but not while she was in such a state.

She pushed past Moca, making sure to step on her foot again.

“Hey, rude!”

Misaki turned to look back at her as she stepped onto the platform.

She nodded a little.

“Yes, they got bigger.”

Moca replied with a matching pair of finger guns.

There was no harm in showing off from time to time.

 

---

 

Misaki threw open the door of the apartment at long last. The walk from the station had been grueling, partially because of how the entire day had gone so far but mostly because her bag was full of heavy textbooks and now her back was killing her. The elevator to the penthouse had taken forty years, maybe more.

The first thing that assaulted her once she had her shoes off was Kokoro’s perfume. Despite her status, her favourite had always been some cheap fruity shit she found at a Don Quijote and it drove Misaki nuts. Misaki herself didn’t wear anything, so it was the scent that reigned supreme. Their bed smelled like it, their walk-in closet smelled like it, and all of Misaki’s hoodies smelled like it because Kokoro kidnapped them constantly. And now, the genkan smelled like it, after days and days of nothing.

Misaki inhaled and stepped up onto onto the deep brown hardwood floor. In true Kokoro fashion, there was one bright red heel in the middle of their kitchen and another wedged in a potted plant a few feet away. She still kicked her shoes off like a little kid after all this time.

The open kitchen meshed seamlessly with their oversized living room, illuminated by the setting sun via floor to vaulted ceiling glass windows. Over the top of the massive couch peeked a bright yellow ponytail, the owner of which was fully absorbed in whatever anime was playing on the equally large television.

Misaki’s backpack slumped to the floor and her one-track mind took over. The ground was littered with bits and pieces of a stereotypical office uniform, pencil skirt and all. The crumpled clothing made her thoughts race and her heart pound, the photo she’d seen earlier burning itself into the inside of her eyeballs. She had to see it.

She walked with purpose and a little too much speed around the side of the couch, eager to lay her eyes on… Kokoro, sitting on the couch in a fully zipped up hoodie with a bag of potato chips in one hand and the TV remote in the other. Okay, well it was still Kokoro. So that was nice.

“You’re home!” Kokoro threw her arms open, a familiar shine present in her eyes.

“And you’re mean. I’ve been miserable.” Misaki crossed her arms, doing her best to stand her ground in spite of her current stupid caveman brain.

Kokoro frowned at her and put the chips on the table. “That’s no way to welcome me back. Didn’t you miss me?”

Time to try her hand at fishing for the good ol’ bullet, Misaki figured.

“Are you still wearing it under there?”

“Wearing what?” Kokoro tilted her head.

Misaki stepped forward and leaned down, hooking a finger into the front of her commandeered hoodie and pulling it away from Kokoro’s chest so she could look down the front. The bright red little number wasn’t there, but neither was anything else. She was sure even Kokoro could hear the rapid pounding in her chest at that point.

“Inappropriate,” Kokoro swatted her hand away. “If Misaki can’t behave then she’s not getting dessert.”

Dessert sounded good right about now.

“What are we having?”

She fit herself snugly onto the couch next to Kokoro so she was facing her and wasted no time, slipping her palm up the inside of a soft bare thigh. If she was fast enough she’d get to find out if there was any underwear in the way or not. But she was never fast enough.

Fingers closed tightly around her wrist and pulled her hand away. Kokoro smiled cheerfully as she laced their fingers together, while Misaki bit her lip and tried not to pout.

“I had to think really hard about it because you never replied to me. Maybe even all day. What were you thinking about all day?” Kokoro squeezed her hand. “Something fun?”

“You could say that.” Misaki leaned in and buried her nose in the soft golden locks she adored so much, inhaling the scent she’d been craving since the moment Kokoro walked out the door more than a week ago.

Kokoro giggled as she always did, indulging Misaki for a precious few moments. And then Misaki felt the air leave her chest as Kokoro’s hands met her clavicle, forcing them to part and pressing Misaki’s already aching bones into the back of the couch.

She ignored Misaki’s weak protest and stood suddenly, swinging one leg over Misaki’s lap and settling above her on her knees. Her long ponytail flowed behind her, draping across her back and nearly past her butt. Misaki moved to grab her wrists, but again she was outdone as Kokoro turned the tables, grabbing her own wrists and twisting her arms painfully until the backs of her hands were pinned to the top of the backrest.

Misaki hissed through her teeth, not expecting the sudden strain but immediately wanting more. She’d waited so long for this, for Kokoro to come home and push her around and make her feel so loved .

Her chest rose ragged with her breathing as Kokoro looked down at her fondly, the oversized hoodie still hiding what Misaki was after.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave? Don’t move your hands.”

Misaki could only nod dumbly as Kokoro let go of her and slid a perfectly manicured hand down to her cheek. She might have felt the soft brush of Kokoro’s thumb, if not for the discomfort that settled between her legs. Her jeans felt way too constricting, all of a sudden. With any luck, Kokoro would overcome that obstacle sometime soon.

“You missed me a lot right?” Kokoro leaned in, lips close enough that Misaki could feel her gentle breathing but not close enough to touch. She didn’t dare move.

“I missed your smile.” Kokoro continued, dragging her hand down the front of Misaki’s hoodie. Her fingers caught the zipper on the way, pulling it down and separating it in one smooth motion.

“I missed your eyes, even the parts you don’t like.”

The purple marks beneath them, she meant. The ones that reminded Misaki how much it hurt to force herself to stay awake, how painful it was to lie there at night when Kokoro was half a world away. They made the pot of gold at the end so much more rewarding. Her sleep sickness was part of their dance, and that certainly wasn’t healthy.

“I missed your lips and the way you talk…”

Her vision nearly blurred as she followed Kokoro’s hand down her clothed thigh, wondering where she was going to take them. Her leg burned where small fingers trailed, even through her pants. How weak she was. How desperate for literally anything.

And then Kokoro’s hand met her own bare thigh, and started working its way up and up…

“And I missed your hands a whole lot. You have such long fingers, you know? And all those instruments you play…”

Misaki swallowed as Kokoro’s hand disappeared under the hem of the hoodie, pulling it up just enough to reveal no skin at all.

Kokoro’s other hand closed around one of Misaki’s, shaking as she struggled to keep herself pinned to the cool black leather as she was told to do.

“I missed them so much that I…”

Misaki couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open a little as Kokoro demonstrated that she wasn’t wearing any underwear by pushing her fingers up inside herself. Not that she could see it with her actual eyes, but she could hear it because Kokoro was probably totally drenched under there. Wait, did that mean -

“That I took care of it myself right before you got home.”

She pulled two fingers out quickly and held them in front of Misaki’s eyes for a split second before shoving them in her open mouth and squeezing Misaki’s hand again.

Misaki muttered a muffled “fuck” around the fingers, both savouring and hating the taste of her partner at the same time. Of course. Of fucking course.

Kokoro pulled her fingers back and wiped them on the hoodie, expression smiley and sunny as if she hadn’t done what she’d just did.

“But I picked up Chinese! And a whole cake. I hope you like red velvet!”

And with that she hopped off Misaki’s lap and skipped happily across the expansive hardwood, humming one of their old songs to herself.

Was it frustrating? Absolutely. Kokoro was playing her game, and she’d revealed her entire hand at once. Though if she was going to go with card game analogies, Misaki supposed she didn’t even really have a hand at all.

But this was what she wanted . She wanted to be lied to, to be tricked. To play second fiddle to Kokoro’s orchestra, wherein the finale was worth every agonizing moment. She wanted to lose.

Because in the end, didn’t that make her the winner?

As night settled, Kokoro acted as though Misaki wasn’t slowly rotting away from the inside out because that’s what she did best.

Dinner had been a struggle to maintain small talk about Kokoro’s trip, on Misaki’s end, while Kokoro herself just swung her legs back and forth under the table without a care in the world. It was the same thing every time. Parents ask her when she’s going back to school, when is she going to take their work seriously, when is she going to tie the knot with Misaki? Then she sits through some boring meetings, signs some papers and picks at her stupid itchy suit the whole time. And nobody smiles! Not even tiny ones. Everyone there looks miserable.

Misaki couldn’t bring herself to forget that Kokoro was naked under the hoodie, even as she shoved a slice of cake in her face. She wasn’t really one for sweets but at least it was some kind of dessert.

When she went to make herself some coffee to keep the edge off and her eyes open, she found that there wasn’t any. It wasn’t the first time she’d made some in the morning and then never seen it again.

“Kokoro, did you hide the coffee?”

“Nope!”

Yep.

She was really going all out tonight then. If she wanted Misaki to work for it, then she would. Sometimes you just had to stay awake without coffee or an energy drink or whatever else, because you had something that needed to get done. She needed to get done, or did, or whatever.

When she drew herself a bath and invited Kokoro to come with her, she said she was busy watching some episode of something and she’d wash up later. But what if Misaki needed help reaching her back? Washing her hair?

“You’re a big girl, Misaki! I believe in you!” Kokoro had answered back

And then when it was Kokoro’s turn, she’d locked the bathroom door. Misaki had tried her luck at knocking, feeling more and more like a kicked puppy than a grown adult.

“Do not disturb!”

“Are you five?” Misaki had called back through the door.

“Are you?”

Kokoro was too snarky for her own good nowadays. But, Misaki supposed she’d learned from the best.

Eventually she just had to give up and hope that Kokoro had something up her sleeve for later. There was homework to be done anyway, maybe that would take her mind off Kokoro’s long dumb legs.

She just had to get down on her knees and pray to the universe that she would get any kind of relief at all tonight.

 

---

 

If Misaki expected anything when she got to the bedroom, it wasn’t to see Kokoro lounging in nothing but a shirt and panties reading a fucking book.

After today’s rollercoaster of buildup, that’s all there was?

“We’re sleeping?” She tried to ask, but it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Kokoro closed her book and sat it down on the nightstand. “That’s what we do when we’re tired, Misaki.”

“Ha ha. I’ve been waiting patiently all day you know.”

“For bed? I do know!” Kokoro patted the space next to her. “You must be exhausted. Weren’t all your tests this week?”

Misaki sighed and shuffled across the plush carpets to the other side of the bed. It was similar to the one they left behind at the Tsurumaki mansion, just a bit bigger. Having four sturdy wooden posts around the bedroom was just so useful nowadays.

She slid under the sheets carefully as Kokoro watched her, as if she expected her to pull a crop out from under the covers or something, which had totally happened before. When you sleep with a wildcard you’re constantly playing with fire.

However, nothing like that happened and Kokoro just patted her on the head before reaching to turn the lamp off. Misaki felt her slide under the covers, wondering again if maybe she’d spring her attack now. She felt a nudge against her arm.

“Can you turn over?” Kokoro whispered.

Misaki complied, ready to give up and pass out. Being lead on was a real workout.

She felt Kokoro’s arms wrap around her waist and a warm body press into her back. That was a comfort she hadn’t felt in a while, and it resulted in instant relaxation despite the coil in her abdomen she’d never got the chance to unwind. The sex was good, but she missed this too. Not everything had to be a mind game.

Tonight though, it seemed everything was .

Halfway to dreamland already, Misaki took ten gigantic mental steps backwards as she felt fingers creep up under her shirt, laying goosebumps across her skin and heat across her cheeks.

“What are you doing?” She dared to ask, voice slurred with sleep.

“Nothing.” She could feel Kokoro’s lips moving through her shirt.

Nothing quickly turned into Misaki’s heartbeat picking up speed and Kokoro’s hands playing leisurely with her breasts. Nails brushed against the peaks and she shuddered, praying that this was the start of something more even through the ache behind her eyes. Sleep could absolutely wait if Kokoro wanted to play now, not that she would have a choice anyway.

She made an executive decision to be proactive, pushing her butt back into Kokoro’s hips as best she could. She was met with a sharp push back and a quick, hot pain as Kokoro roughly pinched her nipple and twisted it, holding it in place as Misaki curled into herself.

“Gahh-ah,” She coughed out clutching for Kokoro’s hand. She wasn’t aroused enough for that yet and it hurt .

“Don’t move, alright? Be good!”

Misaki shuddered at Kokoro’s words and tried her best to go limp. Deft hands went back to work, doing nothing more than running across skin and lightly squeezing, building the anticipation.

She felt Kokoro’s other hand slide down between them, sheets rustling and a forehead against her back. And then, there was nothing. The hand on her breast stopped moving, but she could feel it… shaking?

And a weird sensation against her back, like a hand, and -

“Haa...ahh.” Kokoro’s light cry, familiar and soft, drifted through the darkness. As the fumbling hand behind her sped up, Misaki realized exactly what was going on.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” She blurted out, voice flat as she quickly came to terms with the fact that no, she really wasn’t getting any tonight after all.

“I’m… ha, stressed…” Kokoro forced out between gasps and her quickening breath. “From the t-trip.”

Using Misaki’s own words against her? Anything was a viable weapon, she supposed.

Kokoro herself was lethal, with one hand up Misaki’s shirt and the other working away at herself down her own pants.

“Oh, fuck me.” Misaki whispered to herself. Those touches were setting her on fire all over again.

“N-no…” Kokoro breathed, closer to Misaki’s ear now. “J-just me tonight.”

They continued to lie there together while Misaki’s hands itched to do something, to touch Kokoro, to touch herself, to do whatever. Sure she’d been told not to, but would Kokoro really notice anything through her gasps and squeals? The sheets muffled her hands too, rustling as she pumped her hips faster and faster.

“Mi...Misa...ki….”

She had to do something. It was too much.

She shoved her hand down her boxers far enough to wet her fingers, then yelped and pulled them back out as Kokoro’s hand left her breast and pinched the skin above her armpit, all in the span of seconds. Fingernails trailed roughly across her skin leaving raised marks and a frustrated Misaki in their wake.

Don’t .” was all Kokoro could spit at her, not as lost in herself as Misaki thought she was.

All she could to was grab fistfuls of sheets and grind her teeth until Kokoro finished and slowed behind her. Her chest ached, hard nipples waiting for Kokoro’s hands to come back even though she knew they wouldn’t, and the wetness between her thighs wasn’t going to forget what happened either. Even the thin tank top she wore was much too warm now.

The breath against her back evened out and arms wrapped around her waist, above her shirt. How was she supposed to get to sleep now? If she was lucky, maybe she’d at least drift in and out of consciousness until her body finally let her rest.

She could spy the digital clock out of the corner of her eye indicating it was just barely past midnight. About time to give up.

She forced her eyes shut and willed the sweat on her forehead to disappear as she settled in for another one of many, many uncomfortable nights.

 

---

 

When Misaki opened her eyes, she couldn’t see a damn thing.

Well, she could . The haziness of barely existent rest kept her groggy, but she knew the inside of a blindfold when she saw one.

She was still in her sleepwear, but the blankets were mysteriously absent and she was flat on her back. The scent of her favourite candles wafted by - plain vanilla, also Kokoro’s favourite. Kokoro liked them because they smelled nice, while Misaki liked them because they melted fast and hot.

After a good minute, her caffeine-deprived brain cells put two and two together.

Thank you god.

She could practically feel the hairs on her arm stand up all at once. There were a thousand and one scenarios flashing across her mind at the same time, vivid recollections of nights just like this one that had ended in shouts, cries, sweat and tears. Of the good variety, of course.

Blood was already rushing to her face. She licked her chapped lips and wondered for a stray second what time it was, before deciding that didn’t matter.

Should she say something? Was she ready? Was Kokoro watching her already, waiting for a reaction?

Her question was answered by the sound of the bedroom door opening.

“Kokoro?” she rasped. There was no hiding the exhaustion in her voice. Her eyes hurt so much. Of course, she knew now, there was no rest for the wicked.

“Misaki!” Kokoro replied cheerfully. “You’re awake! I just finished getting ready.”

Misaki felt her fingers tremble against the sheets. “Good morning.”

“Not yet, it’s still night time. Have you seen my other heel? I was gonna wear them but I could only find one.”

She sounded disappointed, like a child with a lost teddy bear or something rather than an adult with pointy shoes that had been through hell and back in the dark.

“It’s in the plant. The one by the kitchen.” Misaki told her.

“Oooh, no wonder I couldn’t find it. Oh well, I’m already back upstairs. Maybe next time.”

Misaki strained her ears listening for Kokoro’s soft footsteps, trying to figure out where she was and what she was up to. They’d been doing this together for so long now, and yet still Kokoro almost always managed to surprise her. Her creativity persisted well beyond childish games and fairytales.

“I guess I should take this off.” Misaki felt a dainty finger hook itself under the edge of her blindfold. “You never did reply to my text, Misaki. You don’t like it?”

The darkness lifted and there she was.

A brilliant smile, pale skin glowing even in the dim lighting, and glittering eyes that always hid her true intentions. Long legs, a slim waist, and… that bra, which was evidently part of a full set of lingerie that made Misaki’s stomach flip over and over. A mix of deep reds, pitch black lace and shimmering gold accents barely covered what Misaki was craving so badly. There were so many straps. Hugging her hips, wrapping across her chest, over her shoulders…

The bed shifted as Kokoro climbed into it one knee at a time, revealing black thigh-high stockings Misaki had seen before. She moved forward until she was straddling Misaki’s hips, looking down at her, considering what to do with her, making her sweat all over again.

She moved her hand to pull a hair tie off her wrist, and Misaki’s dark eyes followed it, studying the way she swept her cascading blonde mess of hair into a high ponytail, pulling it tight and sweeping the stray strands out of her face.

Her hand continued on, reaching down towards Misaki, single digit extended until it came to rest under her chin. She pulled Misaki’s face up gently.

“What shall we do tonight, hm?”

Misaki could barely swallow.

“Whatever you want.”

Kokoro let her chin drop and laughed. “Don’t you always say that? Maybe one day I’ll let you be in charge, but I’ve always got such fun ideas.”

The drawers under the bed were full of so many fun ideas that Misaki could barely keep track of them all. If she were to tell someone they had one of everything ever, she probably wouldn’t be lying. Maybe even two of a lot of things. It was so easy to buy duplicates when your credit card statement never mattered.

What would Kokoro choose? She’d already gone to the trouble of lighting candles, so perhaps those. Or the crop she hid in the bed sometimes? They had leather in a dozen and a half different forms, but maybe she’d go for a good old fashioned belt. Or maybe even none of that at all, she was a handsy physical person with talented fingers that didn’t need any extra help to put Misaki in her place.

Even just thinking about what might happen gave her the biggest head rush in the world.

Kokoro moved back a little and leaned over the edge of the bed, reaching for something.

“You weren’t a very good listener earlier,” Kokoro told her as she revealed a velvety red coil of rope, “so maybe I should do something about that, just in case.”

“I’ll listen now, I promise.”

The words were hollow because Kokoro had already made up her mind. Maybe they would gain her favour, though.

“I hope so! Sit up for a sec.”

Misaki swore she could feel her bones crack as she pushed herself up with her palms against the bed. She was pretty sure she could feel her individual blood cells pumping too, and she struggled to reign in her breathing and calm herself down. She didn’t want to completely run out of steam, after all.

Kokoro pulled at the hem of her tank top. “You don’t need this anymore, do you?”

Misaki didn’t think she’d ever rid herself of clothing so fast in her life. She would have asked to take the boxers off too, but with Kokoro in her lap she doubted she’d even get a response. A slap on the wrist, maybe.

“Mmm, you’re so pretty. How’d I get so lucky?”

“Must be your charming personality.” Misaki couldn’t help herself, she was just a natural when it came to comebacks.

Kokoro was a natural at taking charge. That, and getting what she wanted. Her hand flashed over Misaki’s shoulder and behind her head, gathering thick brown hair against her palm and forcing Misaki to lean forward until their foreheads almost touched, while at the same time holding her back. Kokoro was so close, close enough to taste if she could just lean forward a tiny bit more and ignore the stinging in her scalp.

“Maybe we’ll have to cover your mouth too. Or will you be good?”

Her breath short and her legs already quivering, Misaki nodded. Even just that sickly sweet voice was enough to get her wet.

“Good!” Kokoro smiled. She let go of Misaki’s hair and pushed her back down to the bed. “Hands please!”

Misaki complied, presenting them and holding her wrists together. The rope was smooth and cool against her skin, sliding across her palms, over and under itself as Kokoro pulled it tight. The perfectly tied knot rested just below her wrists, loose enough that it would remain comfortable as long as she was relaxed.

She was blessed with an eye full of Kokoro’s slender waist as her bound hands were pulled above her head and tied firmly to an inconspicuous “decorative” metal bar imbedded in the headboard. Kokoro’s idea, after they’d ruined the antique wood of her old bed.

Misaki exhaled slowly as she adjusted to the feeling of her arms being strained again, recalling the feel of the cold leather couch against the backs of her hands from only hours ago.

Kokoro leaned back down and ran a hand through Misaki’s hair.

“Comfy? Is your pillow ok?”

“Yes.”

“You know what to say if you get too uncomfy~.”

Letting Kokoro choose the safe word was probably the only true mistake Misaki had ever made in her entire life, but it was what it was. She didn’t have to use it very often, at least.

Kokoro tapped her chin with a finger. “I think it’s a ropey kinda night.”

“Rope is good.” Misaki agreed, barely managing a nod.

Kokoro’s nose crinkled, and before Misaki knew what was happening she felt two fingers pinching her nipple, twisting it roughly and pulling on her skin.

“Ah-haah!” She instinctively tried to pull her arms down and the rope around her wrists tightened. The prickling pain lingered after Kokoro let go of her, dragging her flat open palm down Misaki’s stomach. It was so hot against her skin she thought she might burn up before anything even really happened.

“I wasn’t asking, Misakiii.”

Misaki swallowed the words in her throat.

Quietly, Kokoro presented another longer, deep red rope with ends capped in gold and got to work. The way she saw binding Misaki was the same way she saw creating art or writing a song. It was relaxing, and there were so many things she could make by pushing and pulling and exploring hot bare skin… the thick red cord was the paintbrush and Misaki was the canvas.

Sometimes she tried to come up with her own designs - a flower, a spider’s web, their initials - whatever came to mind.

Tonight Misaki saw stars in her eyes, and so that was what she drew across pale, reddening skin. The rope swept over her shoulders, across her back, over and under her breasts to give her the pressure she craved so much. For a few long minutes, Kokoro was completely absorbed in her work, carefully maneuvering Misaki to loop knots together behind her back and across her chest.

When she was finished, she sat back on her knees to admire her handy work, still straddling Misaki’s waist.

It was tight, but not too tight, and right above her breasts the rope crossed together in the shape of a star, Kokoro’s favourite tie and the first one she’d learned so long ago. Well, everyone else called it a pentagram, but Kokoro was herself and so it was a star.

“Isn’t it nice?” Kokoro asked her with a much softer voice. The thick knot of the harness dug into Misaki’s back, pulling at her shoulders. It was perfect as always.

Kokoro grabbed the bottom of the star and leaned down, staring into Misaki’s icey eyes, telling her she was the only thing in the world she cared about now, that even she’d been anxiously waiting for more time spent together like this.

She brushed their noses together, and then finally their lips.

Misaki hadn’t kissed Kokoro in so long. They didn’t normally kiss so much when they were doing something intense, but absence made the both of them starve for each other. Typically Misaki was the horny impatient one, but Kokoro’s own urgency became obvious when her tongue spared no time finding its way into Misaki’s mouth, pushing as deep as it could go and dragging along the roof of her mouth.

She wanted so desperately in that moment to rip her hands free, wrap Kokoro in her arms and kiss her until they couldn’t breath anymore. She flinched as Kokoro bit into her lower lip, holding in a gasp so she wouldn’t have to pull away.

Suddenly it was as if she could feel so much more of Kokoro all at once. Their legs brushing together, barely clothed breasts pushing into her bound ones, another hand trailing down her ribs…

Kokoro tilted her head and pushed her tongue deeper, if it was even possible, and Misaki couldn’t help but respond with a muffled moan. Her hands were useless, her skin was on fire and she felt the slick wetness between her legs every time she moved. She just loved Kokoro so much .

They separated with a wet pop, Misaki trying her best to pull Kokoro back down with her mouth and failing.

“Mmm.” Kokoro licked her lips. “I get so warm when we kiss. I love you soooo much, Misaki…”

“Love you… too…” Misaki sputtered, gasping as she sucked air in between each word. She could hardly breath, the air in her lungs was all but gone.

“So!” Kokoro clasped her hands together. “Let’s put a smile on your face, hm?”

Misaki hissed as nails dug into her skin below her breasts, dragging down harshly across her ribs and her stomach, pulling at the hem of her boxers without moving them even a centimeter lower.

Kokoro brought her hands up and did it again, running her nails down Misaki’s sensitive sides and over her hip bones, leaving pink trails behind them. A flush of red bloomed everywhere she touched, heated and ready for more.

She shuffled backwards and moved Misaki’s legs until she was sitting between them.

Misaki eyed her as she very obviously stared at the space between her legs.

“We should probably change the sheets after this,” Kokoro told her matter-of-factly. How her voice remained so steady was a mystery.

Hands came to rest on both of her knees, and Misaki couldn’t help but twitch as Kokoro ran them up her legs, grazing her thighs as she pushed the boxer legs out of the way. They bunched up, revealing shaky thighs. Her hips bucked upwards involuntarily.

Kokoro lifted a finger in warning. “You gonna make me tie the bottom too? Maybe I should just do this.”

She scooted Misaki’s feet forward, spreading her legs wider and kneeling across her feet to trap them beneath her.

“Hmmm, yep, that’s good!”

And then she wasted no time, drawing her hand up with spread fingers and bringing it down against the tender inside of Misaki’s thigh with a loud smack .

The impact of skin against skin echoed through Misaki’s ears; she barely registered her own cry. She pulled at her restraints again, rope dragging sharply across her wrists just as Kokoro’s hand connected once more with her other thigh.

“Ah, haa!” she let slip as she tried to breath in and out at the same time.

Kokoro smoothed the reddening skin with her palms between hits as she took her time alternating back and forth. She paused to rake her nails across the dark blotches and Misaki’s hips twisted and shook along with them.

She spent what felt like an agonizing age and a half pinching, smacking and scratching at Misaki’s thighs and hips, looking for old bruises and painting her with new ones. At some point she’d pulled the boxers down a little, not enough to give any sort of relief but enough to reveal the raised marks on Misaki’s hip. They were few, but the pale lines were still there, reminders of their younger, stupider days and a brief relationship with scarification.

It wasn’t for them quite yet, but Kokoro still liked to run her hands across her initials from time to time and she knew Misaki would ask her to do it again someday.

She leaned down and brushed her lips across the characters, then sat back up between Misaki’s legs.

“You’re drooling a little.” She observed.

Misaki was, she could feel it, but she didn’t give two shits. All she could feel was the sting in her thighs and the constriction of the rope across her chest.

For a short while nothing happened as Misaki caught her breath and let her eyes close for a moment, trying to regain focus on where she was and what was going on. She felt the bed dip and her feet become free as Kokoro moved away, but she didn’t want to rest her legs because Kokoro hadn’t told her she could yet. So she held them up, even as they trembled.

The scent of the candles drifted by again, a sliver of calm in her emotional storm.

It didn’t last long. She was brought back to reality by a sharp pain in her breast as Kokoro revealed she’d pulled out the crop and set to work before she’d even sat back down.

The smooth leather end brushed over her nipple and she opened her eyes to find Kokoro climbing over her, straddling her stomach and at last letting skin rest against skin. Her weight pushed the air out of Misaki yet again. With Kokoro’s center flush against her stomach, Misaki could feel just how soaked her partner was too, and she was just as bad if not worse off than Misaki herself.

“Your best friend, besides me.” Kokoro giggled. It was the first thing they’d bought together and it was still a strong contender for personal favourite.

Misaki gasped for the hundredth time as small, fast smacks of leather versus skin filled the silence, broken up by precious few passive moments of softer touches and whispers in her ear about how pretty she was, how good she was for listening, how she’d get a reward at the end of it all. It stung and it warmed her, small red welts surfacing with every hit.

Her body strained, the knot at her back digging in every time she moved, every time she arched her spine and shouted.

Meaningless yells gave way to the humiliation of begging, ask for more and more. She was hurting, but not enough, and she needed to be touched so, so badly.

For at least ten minutes after the begging began, Kokoro happily ignored her and continued playing around with Misaki as she saw fit. Brushing a hand through her hair, pinching her skin, leaving purple marks all across her neck and shoulders with her lips.

Eventually Misaki couldn’t even feel the impact of the crop anymore, skin so raw and numb that the tingling pain never had the chance to go away before it was refreshed. Kokoro felt heavier and heavier on her stomach with each passing second. She felt like she was going to pass out.

Please.” Her voice cracked. “Kokoro…”

Kokoro paused, laying her weapon down at her side.

“You’ve said that word a lot! Is there something you want? I’ve been having so much fun I didn’t really notice.”

“F-fun…”

“Aren’t you having fun?”

Misaki breathed in.

“More. M-more please.”

Small fingers tickled Misaki’s stomach. “You gotta be more specific. Really, you should just tell me what you want so I can do it. Or maybe I won’t. Which would make you happier?”

Misaki couldn’t even think about what she wanted. Everything hurt, and she needed so desperately to rest her arms. Her legs had given out ages ago. What pained her the most though, was the throbbing between her legs. Even the fabric rubbing up against her felt incredible, she was just so tightly wound that anything would do.

Even just one finger, just one. Maybe she could get away with asking for that.

“Fingers,” She blurted out. “F-fingers, I...you…”

“These?” Kokoro held up her hand. “What about them?”

“Touch me please.”

“Just touch you? Nothing else?”

What a pain in her ass.

Inside me.” Misaki rasped. “Fuck me. Please.”

Kokoro’s smile gave way to a devious smirk.

“I’ve got a way better idea.”

Misaki didn’t dare ask what it was as Kokoro leaned over the top of her and began untying her hands. While the process of securing them had been a slow and careful one, removing her bonds went much faster. Misaki’s excitement was mounting its peak. She had no idea what Kokoro was planning and the idea of being blindsided was driving her crazy. Below her stomach, the coil wound itself tighter.

Free at last, Misaki expected a moment of respite to rub at her wrists and prepare herself for whatever was about to happen, but Kokoro didn’t give her that. Instead she stepped off the bed, flipping Misaki over and dragging her to the edge by the rope harness still securing her chest.

“You’ll need your hands to hold on,” Kokoro told her as if that explained anything.

She felt her legs being pulled over the side of the bed, the pull of the elastic waistband as Kokoro finally rid her of her last piece of clothing. The open air made her shiver, and she felt wet trails leaking down her thighs as Kokoro pushed her around until her feet were flat on the floor and she was bent over, front flat against the bed.

She took Kokoro’s warning seriously, clutching at the blanket until her knuckles were white.

“Don’t look.” Kokoro instructed just as she started turning her head.

She obeyed, instead trying her best to remind her legs not to give way again.

She heard Kokoro messing around with something behind her, then felt a familiar leather cuff wrapping around an ankle. Her other leg was grabbed and shoved further away, spreading them apart and making way for the long metal bar that would lock them in place, preventing her from closing her legs. She noticed at last how rapid her breathing was, just as her other ankle was locked in. Kokoro ran a hand up the back of her leg.

“F-fingers?” Misaki asked meekly, not knowing what else to do with herself.

Her reply was the sound of Kokoro fiddling with something else. The sound of a belt maybe? Something with straps?

She knew what it was the second she felt the smooth, stiff head press against her entrance. Her eyes widened.

“Ready?”

There was no time to answer as she scrambled to stuff sheets in her mouth so she wouldn’t bite her tongue in half as the strap-on split her down the center, filling her up completely and shoving her hips into the side of the bed.

Instead of grabbing Misaki’s hips, Kokoro had instead latched onto the rope at her back, pulling hard as she launched into a breakneck speed fit for someone who had more energy than they knew what to do with.

All Misaki could see were stars while her whole body was pounded into the mattress, eyes rolling back as she immediately gave up on keeping herself standing.

She couldn’t handle what was happening right now, not between the bruises on her overworked thighs, Kokoro pulling at her binding, hips slamming again and again and again against Misaki’s ass, burying herself over and over without breaking the impossible pace.

She heard herself yell or scream or something, muffled by the blanket wedged in her mouth. If she gripped the sheets any tighter with her hands, she’d cut her palms with her own nails.

Her walls clentched against the shaft, willing it to slow down so she could take a second, even just half a second, to put some air in her lungs. The sheets, softer than they had any right to be, felt rough and coarse against her chest. Kokoro remained relentless, holding her in place and never letting up. Misaki strained against the ropes, against herself.

It didn’t take long for her to shudder from head to toe, a powerful orgasm ripping through her and curling her toes while Kokoro continued on and on and on. She didn’t slow up once, even as Misaki clearly finished, and continued driving into her all the way through it.

Misaki couldn’t even open her mouth to protest, she was so overwhelmed. Spit soaked the fabric against her tongue and dripped out onto the bed. She felt the corners of her eyes welling up, blurring her already scattered vision. She started losing her grip, unable to cope with every sensation at once.

And Kokoro went on. Maybe even faster. Over and over, deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Kokoro was everything.

How could she be so ruthlessly perfect? The sound of Kokoro's skin slamming into the back of Misaki's thighs deafened her to everything else, including her own gasps and cries. Nothing in the world mattered. They could stay like this forever, until Misaki was raw and spent and used up for all she cared. All she wanted was more. More of that sweet voice and false security, a gentle touch when she wasn't being beaten into the mattress. More heat, more skin, more perfection.

Another burst of heat whitened her vision as Misaki peaked again, lost in what she was feeling.

She shouted again, at herself, at Kokoro, at god. Someone, anyone.

“Let’s go for three.”

“F-fuuhaaa.” She tried to swear, cut off by the feel of Kokoro’s other hand brushing against her clit. Kokoro hadn’t even touched it yet and she was almost dead to the world.

Still the pounding didn’t cease, and then Kokoro was pinching and pulling at her skin, pressing down on her, playing with her expertly as she’d spent so many hours learning to do. She rubbed her fingers across it in circles, alternating between agonizingly slow and painfully fast, always in sync with Misaki's body as she came close to the edge once more, holding her back and refusing to let her fall until she said so.

At some point she was sure she screamed, she wasn't sure what, but it was enough to make Kokoro show her a little mercy. It was too much.

Misaki was losing her mind.

When her third orgasm hit her, she barely even felt it. She just couldn’t. She lay there, slumped against the bed as Kokoro finally slowed down and pulled out of her.

If the ropes weren’t there she probably would have fallen to the floor, but instead Kokoro caught her and dragged her back up, laying her down and moving quickly to unravel the star. All Misaki could do was lay there, completely spent and sweating, trying to watch Kokoro and failing to keep her in focus.

The rope fell away under Kokoro’s hands, and then she turned her focus on herself, pulling her stockings off and unhooking every strap she could reach. Once she was fully naked, Misaki tried to ogle her at least a little, but Kokoro had her own agenda.

She still had to get herself off, of course.

Kokoro climbed onto the bed with significantly less composure than she’d had while they were fucking - wait, were they still fucking? Maybe Kokoro was. Misaki knew she was out for the count.

Her question was answered when Kokoro swung a leg over her shoulder and straddled Misaki’s center so their cores were pressed together. She hadn’t even had to catch her own breath before she went to town, riding Misaki hard and grasping at her leg as if her life depended on it.

Barely coherent, Misaki did her best to put herself back together as Kokoro used her. Even through her post-sex haze, she could see Kokoro’s eyes shut tight, her teeth biting into her lip, the flush of deep red across her face. She could hardly even stand how much she adored her partner. She could feel nails digging sharply into her skin, hardly registering it. Her body didn't even react when Kokoro switched from biting her own lip to Misaki's leg, another stray mark that maybe she'd feel in the morning and be embarrassed about later.

She rocked her hips so, so fast. There was something so fulfilling about not having to do anything but sit back and watch a beautiful girl grind up against you for her own pleasure, regardless of what you wanted or how you felt.

Kokoro finished somewhat quickly, having suffered without touch for just as long as Misaki had. She was just a lot better at hiding it.

She detangled their limbs and stumbled forward, falling into the space beside Misaki. For a few moments they lay there together, calming their heartbeats and waiting for their breaths to even out again. Kokoro reached out, pulling Misaki into her arms and turning her so they could face each other.

She ran her hands slowly down Misaki’s shoulders, along her sides and over her stomach, gently massaging the skin that wasn’t still a bright red. Rapid, harsh breaths shook the air between them, uneven reminders of how far they pushed themselves and how long it would take them to settle down again.

And still Kokoro was so careful, smiling softly as she turned her focus to bringing Misaki back down to earth. She moved to brush her hair back, damp with sweat, and ran her finger across swollen lips. Sapped of energy, Misaki strained a little trying to lean forward, Kokoro meeting her half way with a slow kiss.

This was the reward, Misaki thought to herself. The afterglow by candlelight, laying together so closely, trading kisses and whispers. It was so different from the intensity they usually poured into each other, like night and day. It suited them, she supposed.

The unbearable heat she'd felt in every part of herself slowly morphed into a comfortable, warm sensation. Even against the cool air she felt satisfied. Like the hole inside her since Kokoro had left was finally full again.

She wanted to sleep, just like this, in Kokoro's arms. Her eyes drifted closed and she did her best to push closer, nose brushing against soft golden hair as she tried to lose herself in the most absolute of comforts. They lay there together for a long time, maybe even hours, until gentle fingers raised her chin and kissed her awake again.

“So,” Kokoro spoke quietly, a hair’s breadth away, “how did you like it? Fun?”

“You think everything is fun. I’m still having trouble breathing. And also my eyes hurt.”

Kokoro leaned in to kiss her again.

“Such a negative nancy. You should sleep in today, now that I’m home.”

Misaki nodded, eyelids drooping. “Technically I have class later but good luck getting me there without working legs.”

Kokoro snorted and tried to pull her closer. “What would you tell all your teachers?”

“My girlfriend broke my legs and all I got was this stupid wheelchair.”

They both laughed softly at that. Misaki started playing with Kokoro’s hair, freeing it from the ponytail. It would be the perfect end to a perfect night if they could just fall asleep together, right now, like this. Except…

“So the bed is kinda damp here. My leg’s been sitting in it since we lied down.” Misaki muttered.

“I told you we’d have to change the sheets,” Kokoro poked her nose. “And by we I mean you.”

Misaki scoffed. “Do I look like I can do literally anything right now?”

“Well I don’t have that problem. It’s on your side of the bed, Misakiii~”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Cause I did all the hard work! It’s not easy being the boss all the time.” Kokoro pouted.

I’ll be the boss next time then.” Misaki declared, only kind of maybe half serious.

Kokoro just laughed again. “That’s the best joke I’ve heard all night! What else ya got?”

“It’s not funny! I could do it!” Misaki tried her best to cross her arms, which was impossible while she was laying on her side. “How hard could it be?”

“Whateeever you say.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Nothing!”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing!” Kokoro repeated.

Well, maybe she was right. It’s not like Misaki had ever tried it before anyway.

But wouldn’t it be a nice surprise?

Maybe, just maybe, it was her turn to shuffle the deck.