#35 Silk
Time for the big guns, to get the Hirumamo fans running again (cept' kitake_neru who's really on a roll)
enjoy~
For the first time I choose to pinpoint an event. This takes place between chapters 167 and 168 because I need a reason for Mamori’s Kanto-Tournament haircut.
35. Silk:
Her skin was soft, smooth and creamy, forbidden from coarse hands, teasing any jealously watching eyes, the heavenly fantasy of any man… and it was all his.
She sat there on his lap, feeling the padding from the front of his uniform pants on the back of her bare thighs, and wondered what to do next.
She’d lured him here, under the pretense of a new strategy for the upcoming game, told him that he’d run a play with Sena and Kurita and to wear his uniform.
She’d requested that he come in the evening, on a night when she was sure everyone else had plans; to the point of creating plans for a few of them.
He’d arrived on time to find her sweeping up for the night, wearing his jersey; only his jersey.
She’d initiated it all, walking up to him slowly, asking if there was anything else for her to do tonight, lightly pushing him into a chair and telling him not to lift a finger, she’d take care of everything.
She’d watched his normal bored look dissolve into shock, then rebuild itself with frustrated anger laced with hungry desire as she’d slid into his lap, like a child asking Santa for presents.
His hands slid themselves up her arms, turning her torso to face him properly. She blushed as he took a long look at her, his eyes sliding from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. The light blush she’d been sporting since she was fully clothed this afternoon bloomed across her face, making her wonder if that was why she couldn’t feel her hands or feet.
He leaned in very, very close, until their noses just barely touched. A breathy gasp escaped her. He removed his hands from the hold he had on her forearms to cup the face so close to his. Their eyes locked and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to run screaming or simply end the torture and push him into the couch, game for anything he brought up.
He was the first to break their gaze, tilting her head down and placing one kiss onto her forehead. She pulled her face from his large hands and stared at the boy. He grinned, emerald eyes still full of tightly guarded emotion, “Can this wait until after the Christmas Bowl?”
~*~
Omake:
She slapped him, gathered her clothes and bag, and headed for the door. Before turning the handle she paused and turned her head, eyes to the side. She whispered,
“Yes,” and left.
enjoy~
For the first time I choose to pinpoint an event. This takes place between chapters 167 and 168 because I need a reason for Mamori’s Kanto-Tournament haircut.
35. Silk:
Her skin was soft, smooth and creamy, forbidden from coarse hands, teasing any jealously watching eyes, the heavenly fantasy of any man… and it was all his.
She sat there on his lap, feeling the padding from the front of his uniform pants on the back of her bare thighs, and wondered what to do next.
She’d lured him here, under the pretense of a new strategy for the upcoming game, told him that he’d run a play with Sena and Kurita and to wear his uniform.
She’d requested that he come in the evening, on a night when she was sure everyone else had plans; to the point of creating plans for a few of them.
He’d arrived on time to find her sweeping up for the night, wearing his jersey; only his jersey.
She’d initiated it all, walking up to him slowly, asking if there was anything else for her to do tonight, lightly pushing him into a chair and telling him not to lift a finger, she’d take care of everything.
She’d watched his normal bored look dissolve into shock, then rebuild itself with frustrated anger laced with hungry desire as she’d slid into his lap, like a child asking Santa for presents.
His hands slid themselves up her arms, turning her torso to face him properly. She blushed as he took a long look at her, his eyes sliding from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. The light blush she’d been sporting since she was fully clothed this afternoon bloomed across her face, making her wonder if that was why she couldn’t feel her hands or feet.
He leaned in very, very close, until their noses just barely touched. A breathy gasp escaped her. He removed his hands from the hold he had on her forearms to cup the face so close to his. Their eyes locked and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to run screaming or simply end the torture and push him into the couch, game for anything he brought up.
He was the first to break their gaze, tilting her head down and placing one kiss onto her forehead. She pulled her face from his large hands and stared at the boy. He grinned, emerald eyes still full of tightly guarded emotion, “Can this wait until after the Christmas Bowl?”
~*~
Omake:
She slapped him, gathered her clothes and bag, and headed for the door. Before turning the handle she paused and turned her head, eyes to the side. She whispered,
“Yes,” and left.