The sound of the rain falling down iron gray skies is almost deafening, it seems to swallow Kokomi whole in its torrent.
The cabin found in the middle of the woods seems to be heaven sent, and the woman runs beneath its roof, shivering within her own thin clothes sticking against skin.
Desperation and hope mingling into one, she knocks on the wooden door twice, frozen knuckles hurting against its hard surface, and waits with bated breath.
It takes but a few seconds for the door to be opened slightly.
There is a woman on the other end, considerably taller than Kokomi, sharp eyes colored like pink rhinestones. She silently squares the one in front of her with a furrowed brow, clearly not expecting a stranger to come to her door at that hour, if at all.
At the extended silence, Kokomi finally tries to find words of her own.
“F—forgive the disturbance,” She states, teeth chattering loudly together. It’s cold, and even if winter has passed, rain and wind during early spring can be as impairing as a snowstorm.
“I just need a refuge. Please.”
Silence, still. The woman is imposing, and wearing men’s clothes. Kokomi swallows; the idea that the one in front of her might be far more dangerous than wind and rain suddenly grazes her mind. Perhaps, it would be better if she was left outside. But then the stranger steps back, opening the door further, and Kokomi gets in with a silent prayer ringing in her head.
The cabin is completely made out of dark wood, coated in the smell of incense. Kokomi hugs herself tighter to chase body heat as she studies the place, simple and modest but hardly poor looking.
She notices a jaded katana attached to a wall.
“Thank you,” She states finally, teeth chattering just a little less as she faces her host once more. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”
“Probably would have frozen to death.”
Kokomi doesn’t know what sends an electric shiver running down her spine. If the woman’s blunt words, or the sound of her regally cold voice.
It causes her to chuckle nervously as a response.
“What is someone of your status doing out in the woods by herself? Those clothes don’t belong to any regular peasant.”
Kokomi looks down, and with a strong embarrassment, she notices the way her white ceremonial clothes cling to her skin, water having rendered them almost transparent.
The woman seems to notice her discomfort, because she walks away briefly, just to come back with what looks like a blanket.
“Here,” she says, and Kokomi gratefully takes the offered object before throwing it over her own shoulders, trying to chase its heat.
“I’m… running away, actually,” Kokomi finally states, replying to her earlier question. The trembling in her body is somewhat lessening, now, “You could say I’m a fugitive.”
The dark haired woman raises a brow. Kokomi isn’t sure whether she’s being skeptical or concerned.
“You hardly look like an outlaw.”
The idea is almost entertaining.
“Ah, I’m nothing of the sort. Just a… disobedient daughter.”
At that point, the woman gestures at the low table behind her, an offer to sit down and tell more. Kokomi does, tucking her lower legs beneath her knees, keeping the sheet around herself. Her hair is soaked, too, and she feels a sting of guilt at having drops of rain fall down the woman’s pavement, even though she doesn’t really seem to care.
Kokomi takes a slow, deep breath before she can explain herself. She decides to keep it brief and to the point: no use to start a sentimental gush of words that this person likely wouldn’t care for.
“My father has arranged a marriage with a man I don’t love, as per tradition of our family history. So, I ran away.”
She pauses and waits for a reaction of any sort, the sound of the rain now less powerful beneath a roof.
Kokomi, however, does not expect for her sentence to be met with just a slow blink and a neutral face.
Kokomi stares, and can find no sympathy whatsoever.
“You don’t find it… I don’t know, appalling? That a father would force his own daughter to marry?”
The woman shrugs slightly.
Kokomi parts her lips slightly (no longer blue hued by the cold) and her voice gets stuck in her own throat for just a second. Then, her outrage comes out in a small burst.
“Tradition doesn’t make it right!”
The stranger is clearly unmoved by the other woman’s exclamation, she doesn’t even shift.
“What’s your name?”
A brutal subject change, as if she had something important to be doing, and Kokomi is just here wasting her time.
“…Kokomi,” her host doesn’t care to get into arguments, evidently, and Kokomi is far too tired (both emotionally and physically) to press on further anyway. It makes little sense to belittle her, especially when she’s being welcomed in a place that isn’t her own.
The woman nods knowingly.
“Sangonomiya. The family in charge of the great temple.”
That piques Kokomi’s interest.
“Why does a woman hidden deep in the woods recognize my name?”
“Because it’s a name I unsheathed my blade against, before.”
The woman sets down a bowl of steaming rice and scrambled eggs in front of Kokomi, before sitting down at the table as well. Her words are chilling, more so than the rain, particularly because said in such a casual way.
“You’re lucky I retired from the army months ago.”
Kokomi looks at the offered food, and her stomach churns. She hasn’t had a full meal since yesterday morning, and survived off of rations she had been able to sneak off with, but suddenly her hunger is lacking.
“So you’re an ex soldier.”
“...what is your name?”
Kokomi allows silence to stretch on to see if she’ll be offered any last name, or any title. She isn’t. The woman keeps herself shrouded in complete mystery.
“Eat. You can leave when the rain has passed. Go back to your family.”
Discomfort crawls up her skin at the mere thought, and her eyes find the wood of the table.
“No I— I can’t go back. Please, allow me to stay here. I’ll do chores, help you with anything you need. I’ll even pay if—”
“No. I do not care for bribery.”
“ Please, ” her hands move forward almost by their own will, catching the woman’s own in a gentle yet firm grip. She feels calluses on those knuckles. Kokomi’s marine gaze meets Ei’s electric pink. “All I ask for is time.”
The woman in front of her is still, unmovable. Their eyes are connected, and Kokomi knows there is true desperation reflected in her own. If she’s begging to be left in the companionship of a woman who has just claimed that she would have killed her, in different circumstances, it must mean she is more than serious, after all.
Ei must see it, because she gently blows air out of her nose before her hands slip away from Kokomi’s colder ones.
“One week.” Ei states, and by the way she says it, it’s clear that she won’t allow for any more concessions. “You get to stay one week, and then be on your way.”
Kokomi’s whole body loses stiffness, as she lets out a small, relieved sigh.
“Thank you,” she breathes, “Thank you so much.”
“Now eat, or it will go cold.”
It’s only when she’s finished her meal that Kokomi realizes that the bowl of rice had probably belonged to Ei, and that her host was left without a meal.
Ei does not change behavior when Kokomi stays. She seems to be naturally quiet, reserved; preferring to observe rather than converse. She’s also not as scary as she had first seemed– though it does take Kokomi a good couple of hours to not jump like a mouse whenever the woman moves.
She allows Kokomi to wear a change of her own clothes; (too big for her, but she won’t complain) and at night, she insists that Kokomi use her futon.
“ As a soldier, I spent nights on the ground. I’ll be perfectly fine with just a blanket. ”
Kokomi tries to insist, to say the woman has already been far too generous, but her complaints fall empty.
That first day, they do not talk much more than that.
On the second, Kokomi allows herself to study her host.
The woman is charming, in a mysterious, reserved way. And while she wears men’s kimonos and has sharp features, her every movement is elegant and feminine.
Kokomi finds herself curious, intrigued. She’s always been shielded from the outside by her family, always treated like a ceramic doll to be enclosed within the temple until she marries.
She hasn’t met that many outsiders to Watatsumi before, and perhaps that is one of the reasons why Ei seems to be so fascinating. An incognito of sorts, mystery following her like a shadow.
The morning after, when the rain has stopped and the sun peeks out from rosy clouds, Kokomi helps the woman with her animals. Ei has a few, as she finds out, all hidden into small booths behind the cabin. A goat and a few chickens.
The woman treats them tenderly, as if they were pets, running her hands over the goat’s back or feeding the chickens from the palm of her hand.
It’s a sweet sight, to witness someone as intimidating as Ei be soft for farm animals.
Kokomi touches the goat’s nose before letting her fingers run down its bristly neck, and the animal seems content to just chew on a stem of hay as she does so. She’s about to ask for her name, when Ei speaks first.
“Why do you not want to marry?”
Kokomi looks up, finding pink eyes on her, studying the way she’s petting the goat, surprised at her starting a conversation without Kokomi’s prompting. The woman talks to her so seldomly, after all, though Kokomi is starting to believe it’s more because of habit, rather than a dislike for the priestess.
“It’s not that I’m against marriage in itself.” Kokomi explains, keeping up with the gentle rubs against the goat’s short fur, “I just… think it should be my choice. Because of love, not convenience.”
Kokomi thinks of Gorou, the one she’s supposed to marry. He’s an old friend, and a sweet young man, but she’s never felt even a fraction of anything beyond amicable affection for him. She hopes he’s doing well.
“Very few marriages are made in the name of love. Most of them are contracts of convenience.”
Ei states simply, finishing to sprinkle corn on the ground for the chicken to feed on.
“Well, I think it shouldn’t be that way.”
“Even if it puts your family at a disadvantage?”
Kokomi immediately grimaces at her own stutter. The idea of how much of a disappointment she has become to the family name still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, despite her own choices.
“I see. You’re an anomaly, then.”
By the way she says it, it doesn’t really sound like a compliment. Ei moves closer, splaying her hand on the goat’s thick neck, and almost grazes Kokomi’s fingers with her own.
“Depleting anomalies was one of my main duties, back then.”
Kokomi feels like she’s rooted into place, a small “Oh.” leaving her lips. They don’t talk much more, for that day.
The next afternoon, Kokomi tries to approach her once more, outside where Ei takes care of a small vegetable garden.
“Don’t you ever feel alone, out here?”
The ex-soldier doesn’t look up, strong hands dug deep into the soil.
“No,” she states, “The peace and quiet are comforting.”
She, too, used to cherish her time alone. It was such a rare occurrence, after all, to be spared from temple related duties and meetings. However, she couldn’t imagine living her whole life like this, with the sole company of goats and chickens.
“I hope I’m not too much of a disturbance, then.”
The answer is sharp, and it would seem dismissive by its tone, if not for its meaning.
“I thought you would be at first, honestly. However, your presence is hardly intrusive or unpleasant.”
Kokomi’s heart jumps in a pleasant flutter.
“I see. I’m… glad that’s the case. I also enjoy your company.”
If Ei is in any way moved by her words, she doesn’t make a show of it.
When Ei sleeps, on that second night, she places herself near Kokomi’s futon with a blanket. Not particularly close, of course, just enough for the other woman to hear her soft breath, or to notice the way moonlight frames her perfect face.
The nervousness and fear she’d felt on the first night have practically vanished, now.
On the third day, Kokomi realizes that the reasons why she doesn’t want to leave have become more than just one.
The newest is currently meditating, with her legs crossed, right outside the door to her own cabin.
A rational mind like her own would think that three days aren’t nearly enough time to get attached. And yet… Kokomi finds a growing fondness sprouting in her chest, beginning to take root.
She silently goes to her and sits down, their knees almost close enough to brush, and closes her eyes. They stay together for hours, soaking up the not too harsh sunlight.
After that, there are the stars.
Kokomi tugs at Ei’s sleeve before she can get back on her feet.
“Stargaze with me?”
Her heart runs in fear of rejection. But the woman finally nods, and sits back next to her. Kokomi lies her head on the woman’s thigh and looks up at the lights. Myriads of stars dot the endless black.
“They’re beautiful tonight,” she comments with a slight smile.
Ei has yet to look up.
They talk, that night. Of things they love, and things they hate. Kokomi dozes off, settled on the woman’s leg, and wakes up tucked in the futon, food ready for her at her side.
Ei decides to practice with her katana, on the fourth day. Kokomi finds her outside, a few hours after dawn, sunlight reflecting on a jaded blade. Her movements are technical, extremely precise and deadly.
“Good morning,” Kokomi says, watching as the woman’s arms flex and release to make the sword cleave air, “Is this a routine, or did you just wake up with a need to spar?”
The dark haired woman stops and turns to look at her. She’s wearing her long braid, which she only ever lets loose at night. It suits her, it runs down far enough to reach her waist.
“I try to practice at least once a week,” She explains patiently, “Helps to keep the rust away.”
“From the weapon, or yourself?”
Ei’s lips quirk, as they often do when Kokomi states something clever.
“Both, I suppose.”
Kokomi smiles back brightly, before sitting down on humid grass.
“Mind if I spectate?”
“No, not at all.”
Comfortable silence settles on them once more as Ei begins her movements anew, graceful and lethal like the ones of a wild predator. The way she steps forward, the way she moves her blade– Kokomi is no expert on such things (even though she enjoys the theoretical side of warcraft, the one she can find in written records and books), but even she can confidently tell that Ei is a master at what she does.
She must be staring a bit too intensively, though, because Ei turns, at some point, and asks: “Do you want to give it a try?”
Kokomi takes a sharp breath at the unexpected question. She’s never even touched a weapon, having lived such a shielded life from any and all dangers. But it’s not only that— Kokomi has read plenty of books on the subject, and she knows just how important a weapon is to its owner. An extension of their soul, in a way. Second only to the wilder's life.
And thus, when Ei comes closer and offers her the unsheathed katana with a ruined blade, her fingers almost tremble as she grazes its rough handle. Kokomi can almost feel the history this object has lived through the years.
Kokomi follows the command almost immediately, rising to her feet to come face to face with Ei. She grabs the sword in her palms, feeling its weight, observing the way sunlight crashes against iron.
“You’re holding it wrong.”
Kokomi wants to retort, to say that she has no idea how to hold it right in the first place, but then elegant, strong hands are covering her own and gently moving fingers into the right places, and her own voice gets stuck into her throat.
Ei’s fingers are long, slender and rough, a starking contrast to Kokomi’s unblemished ones. She wonders what they’d feel like on other parts of her body, and she bites the inside of her cheek at the treacherous thought.
When Ei seems to be satisfied with the position of Kokomi's hands, she steps back, allowing her to finally breathe in without fear of choking.
But then the ex-soldier is shifting, moving behind her, and when her searing touch trails down to her hips Kokomi has to bite onto her cheek not to let out a surprised sound, almost to the point of bruising it.
A strong touch presses down against her waist, shifting her so that one leg is in front of the other. The woman’s front radiates heat almost pressed behind Kokomi’s back.
That silky voice caresses her ear as the woman’s hands shift once more, trailing upwards and down Kokomi’s arms, guiding them just slightly higher, until Kokomi comes face to face with the tip of the blade. Her arms are starting to burn slightly from its weight, but she barely gives it any mind with the woman practically embracing her from behind. It’s the most physical contact the two of them have ever shared, and it has Kokomi’s whole face flaming a deep crimson.
A hand keeps holding her arms, the other goes back down the front, splaying right above her stomach. Kokomi begs any god that will listen that her own trembling isn’t that noticeable.
Just a little higher, or a little lower, and she’d–
She shifts backwards, then. Just enough for there to be actual contact in between them. The woman’s front is surprisingly soft, and she keeps steady.
As she says it, she guides Kokomi’s arms to move higher, and the handle now stands fully above her head. Kokomi feels like a puppet, an empty thing being moved around with no resistance whatsoever.
Slowly, the blade comes downwards.
Kokomi has to try her hardest not to have her knees give up on her the second that simple praise is breathed hotly right against her flushed skin, and she makes a small sound of affirmation from deep within her throat.
“Now, try by yourself.”
Ei steps back, and it’s like a curtain of a stage being thrown to the side. Suddenly, Kokomi is outside again, the air is gently blowing through her hair, and all that exists isn’t just touches and heat.
Up. Down. A simple enough movement, but Kokomi has to try particularly hard to stay focused, especially when heat has coiled into her lower belly and chest.
She’s never felt like this. Ever. Not for any person, not for any man .
Desire has always been dormant in her life. And perhaps… Perhaps she now knows why.
“It’s just a basic stance, but I’d say you did well. Try again.”
Kokomi isn’t a seductress. She runs a temple, directs holy ceremonies, and is above all a symbol of purity. She knows little of carnal pleasure, except for curious, temptative touches she has occasionally indulged in a couple of nights, with no one in particular in mind, and that never brought real satisfaction at all.
So she’s at a loss, now that she realizes that she wants but she has no idea how to take.
And she wonders if Ei does, as well. If Ei wants, too. If she’d let her stay, in that case.
“I think you should sleep with me.”
Ei’s chewing slows down somewhat. They’re having dinner, hours past the sword training, and that scene has been constantly replaying into Kokomi’s head over and over.
Sure and confident touches, a warm breath, a solid body beneath her. The beauty of Ei’s voice.
“You mean, sleep in the futon?”
Kokomi’s cheeks burn, and she hides her face behind a cup of water. Perhaps it is for the better that Ei would interpret it that way, it saves her from further embarrassment.
“Yes. I can’t just keep taking away your resting spot.”
“I’ve told you, the pavement is just fine.”
“But,” Kokomi wants to find an argument that is convincing enough, however, she’s grasping at threads, “I am… scared of the dark.”
“Really?” the woman raises a brow, “You’ve slept fine, until now.”
“Well I… I–”
She’s floundering, tongue tied. And to think she used to be such a smart orator, back home.
“Maybe I just want us to sleep together, then,” she finally admits, not even looking Ei in the eyes, “I’m leaving soon, after all.”
It doesn’t often happen with Ei, that silence feels unwelcome and uncomfortable. This is one of the few cases.
“You are,” she states, finally, “I expected you to insist more in order to stay.”
Not that Kokomi had been planning to… seduce her into making her stay. She feels the base of her neck scald with shame and embarrassment.
“I wouldn’t want to disturb you, seeing your generosity.”
Ei says little else, and into her second to last night together, she still sleeps on the hard wooden floor.
Ironically, on the sixth day it rains once more.
A gentle sound tattering against the roof, this time, not violent or moved by harsh winds.
It is enough to keep them closed inside, though, after they’ve fed the animals.
Sitting down, she stares at the sword now attached to the wall once more.
“I was a General.”
Ei starts, unprompted, as she does most times. The woman only ever talks when she wants to, and Kokomi is eager to listen.
She shifts just a bit closer, blue eyes kept attentively on her face.
“I fought… plenty of wars. On the battlefield, I’ve been surrounded by death, chaos, constant and unstoppable change. Peace and steadiness are the reasons why I decided to move here. Away from an ever moving society.”
“I understand that,” Kokomi replies, (and she does, she knows the need one has for solitude, to keep away from uncertainties but…)
“But Ei, do you really never feel lonely?”
Pink eyes linger, and almost seem to glow in the darkness, catlike.
“I thought I didn’t,” she says, drawing her folded legs against her chest. “Then you came along.”
Butterfly wings flutter in her chest. Kokomi is not the only one, then, that has developed such complicated feelings in such a short amount of time. She doesn’t know if they’re the same, or how profound they run into Ei’s case, but it’s enough to make her want to at least try. Try, she doesn’t know what, and how, but time is flowing through the hourglass, after all, and tomorrow she’ll be leaving.
“Can we sleep together, just this once?”
Ei settles her chin on her knees, and Kokomi enjoys the sound of the rain.
The futon feels far too tight and far too large at the same time. Ei is beneath its covers right next to her, and her body radiates heat the way an open fire does. And yet, they are not touching, and Kokomi’s body is so terribly stiff. Fear, nervousness and desire are entwined in a bundle in her chest, they tighten around her limbs and don’t let go.
Kokomi wants to reach forward, to touch the slumbering soldier, but she cannot even move her own hand.
Finally, courage wrings forward a whisper in the darkness. There is a moment she fears the woman won’t respond at all, that she’s already asleep. And Kokomi will have to face the morning, and leave, regret bitter and stinging on her tongue.
But then long dark lashes flutter open, and her pink eyes look almost black in the lightless room.
Their faces are close, closer than they’ve ever been.
“Will you be lonely when I'm gone?”
The beat of her own heart is steady. A gentle thump thump thump. It has stopped raining outside, and right now, Kokomi feels warm and safe, as if bundled into a cocoon.
“I don’t know,” and she’s whispering, as if there was someone they could wake, “I’m beginning to fear I will. What will you do tomorrow? Will you go back home?”
“Yes,” and as she says it, Kokomi knows it’s the truth. “However… I don’t know if I’ll marry him. I just don’t want to run anymore,”
“Duty and tradition, two things that have been essential in my life. Two things I’ve never betrayed.”
Kokomi watches Ei’s throat work as she swallows, as if finding difficulty in the motion. Their eyes are locked once more, sea and lightning.
“Sometimes I find myself wondering whether I’d be happier, if I had.”
Her own hand finally finds the courage to move, to have a soft palm rest against the other woman’s cheek. They share the same heat, the same softness, the same breath.
“It’s not too late to find out,”
Kokomi’s whisper is paper thin, and had they not been swallowed by silence, it wouldn’t have been heard. Ei’s chest rises slowly, up and down, and when Kokomi tentatively leans in, she doesn’t draw away.
Lips finally meet, and there is no lightning nor thunder, just the impossible softness of lips and the conjoined beats of two hearts. Perhaps Kokomi was expecting the soldier to be rough when she kisses, but she isn’t. She’s slow and steady, drawing Kokomi closer, enveloping her in her heat.
A strong hand finds its way down her stomach, slips under the night vest and fingers come to rest right beneath her ribcage. Kokomi comes even closer as they kiss, tangles their legs together, moves her hand from her cheek to the back of Ei’s head.
Yes, both of them have been wanting this. It’s clear in the way they move, in the way they reach– like they can’t get enough.
She needs more. Kokomi has not known greed until now, until this woman is shifting against the futon, breaking their kiss to find herself on top of Kokomi, midnight hair falling down around both of them and covering the rest of the world from view.
Two of her long, white fingers come in contact with Kokomi’s exposed collarbones, and the woman draws in a shaky inhale at the touch.
“Are you sure? Chastity before marriage is–”
She cuts her off, doesn’t let her say it. Tradition has no place in their bed.
That hand parts her clothes away, slowly bares Kokomi’s chest until her stiff, pink nipples are exposed to her. And still, even when hunger sparks into a dark pink gaze, the priestess isn’t afraid.
“Ei,” she sighs, as her rough touch finds her sensitive skin, thumb drawing circles and sinking into heated flesh. Fingers knead and taste, causing goosebumps to rise up in their wake.
Lips find Kokomi’s neck, then, following with collarbone, breasts. Those open mouthed kisses have her sighing and arching, always craving for more. A part of her can’t believe she gets to have this, to have her . That she won’t just wake up back in the temple and find it had all been a vaporous dream.
A dark red tongue curls against a nipple as Kokomi slowly begins to rock against that knee that has found a place between her legs. There is a gentle tide rising higher and higher in her lower stomach, waves of pleasure continuously crashing through her body.
Ei must notice the way the woman has begun to grind against her, because she shifts her leg for it to press harder in between Kokomi’s legs, drawing out a high pitched sound at the way it digs into tender flesh.
Wholly embarrassed, neck deeply flushed, Kokomi slams fingers against her own lips not to let other lecherous moans escape.
Ei notices, and she draws back from where she had been licking and nipping at her chest. She removes Kokomi’s hand from her mouth with gentle strength.
“Let me hear you,” she says, not letting go, pressing that hand on the ground behind Kokomi’s head and keeping it there. “It’s only you and me, here.”
Kokomi can feel the way her own cheeks burn, and when she meets Ei’s eyes and sees need nestled in those striking irises, a new gush of wetness finds its way on the woman’s knee.
“I want you so bad. From the very start but I’ve never– I…”
She squeezes her eyes closed, biting her lower lip at the way her clit is pressed against that hard leg. Her underwear is soaked, a thin cotton barrier that barely does anything to lessen the sparks and sobs of pleasure. She is losing it, she is.
Ei entwines their fingers together, of that one hand she keeps captive on the wood. A reassuring gesture meant to bring her back, but it makes her heart run faster.
“Let me,” She states, and the fingers of her one free hand are now sliding down Kokomi’s taut stomach, thumb hooking under the side of her panties. There is a moment when the delicious pressure of Ei’s knee eases away, and Kokomi whines softly at the sudden lack of friction. But then a palm replaces it, finding slick heat, and Kokomi’s jaw seems unhinged by how much she’s opening her own mouth.
“Ei,” she pleads,widening her eyes to look at the ceiling. She can feel the hint of tears, and her sight is blurred. “Yes–”
“Like that,” fingers circle the tight bundle of nerves, and Kokomi’s breaths shorten and quicken. Her legs are open, calves hooking against Ei’s rear.
“Just like that Kokomi. You’re doing–” Ei’s voice falters for a second as just one finger slips into Kokomi, enveloped by velvet heat, “gods, you’re being so good for me.”
Kokomi moans, encouraged by those words, as Ei lets her adjust to the feeling of something being inserted into her. Kokomi hasn’t gone this far with herself, yet, it’s new and foreign, but the second Ei begins hooking that finger to reach a spot that sends fire down her legs, Kokomi chokes on something closer to a scream than a moan.
It has never, ever felt like this, when she touched herself. Ei is the same way she was when practising with her sword: confident, precise and effective.
Kokomi feels like a chalice ready to spill, and at the same time, she desperately wants more. So when a second finger effortlessly slips into her, she takes it with a groan, hips twitching upwards. The hand holding her own down is almost painful, now, by how tight it’s squeezing her fingers. Kokomi’s fogged mind realizes that Ei is keeping herself back, maybe not to hurt her.
“More,” she asks, requests, “Harder, go harder, please, ”
At the command, Ei diligently follows. Her fingers quicken, the strokes against her clit increase their pressure. Teeth graze her lower neck. It’s so much, so beautiful, pain and extasis.
When Kokomi comes, the name of the woman is on the tip of her tongue.
After several moments of something close to a brief loss of senses, she comes back, her own breathing is labored, exhaustion pulsing on the back of her mind. Her arms reach upwards still, enveloping the woman above her in an embrace, enjoying the perfume of her hair. Kokomi’s bared breasts are pressed against Ei’s. The woman has yet to discard her own clothes.
“Do you want me to..?”
Ei shakes her head, settling back down against the futon. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but Kokomi thinks she can see her face having reddened, too. Kokomi’s whole skin is terribly sensitive, now, just the touch of a hand against her hip has her shivering.
“No,” she states, “This was enough.”
Kokomi nods, comes closer, hides her face beneath Ei’s chin.
It doesn’t take long for Kokomi to slip into a dreamless slumber.
On the seventh day, Kokomi has to leave.
There’s no regret waiting for her when she wakes, sunlight stinging her sight. No disgust with herself.
She just wishes they could have more time.
Ei waits for her at the door, looking exactly as she did when she first opened it to her.
“You should marry him.”
The sentence falls down on Kokomi like an iron blade, right when she’s about to leave, a goodbye ready on her lips. She swallows it down, brain running between betrayal and hurt, but then–
“However, if you choose to break traditions and ideals once more… I’ll be here.”
“You–” Kokomi is left speechless for a second, dread twisting and turning into something far more pleasant, until she’s smiling, clutching at the collar of her clothes. “You’d wait for me?”
“I’m going nowhere.”
She lets go, fondness making its way to her chest.
“I’ll… keep it in mind. Goodbye, for now?”
Ei nods, and even though she may look stone made, Kokomi does notice the tender light shining in her eyes.
Sunlight engulfs her as she goes.
Kokomi breathes in. There are choices she has to stop running from.