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Things go bump in the night. This is a fact of life she’s adjusted to.
Ritsu was never particularly secretive about his work even if he didn’t want her affiliated with it. She’s seen the man he’s created many times now-- it was hard to keep quiet about it for long once the creature began to speak. Angry words chastising were overheard, Reimi took it upon herself to see what guest they could possibly have. Ritsu hadn’t mentioned company. He never did; this was a large part of why he moved them to the countryside, she thought. More isolated.
So when she came up the stairs and the second voice belonged to a particularly curious person, her husband had to explain. The guest had asked about her as soon as she showed face, Ritsu had cursed under his breath and introduced her as his wife. Nothing more, nothing less. And to Reimi, he introduced the man as Mahito. A “true person”-- named ironically.
She thinks about that first evening as she sits upright in bed. The noise that summoned her that night is similar to the sounds she hears now, but this feels wrong.
Things shouldn’t thud in the night. Not with the weight she hears.
So she dresses in her robe, slips out of bed and into her houseshoes. The kitchen and family rooms are empty despite the embers of the fireplace still being lit warmly, evidence that her husband was still awake and moving about the house. His office downstairs is also empty, though she expected this all to be the case. The noise she’s heard comes from Ritsu’s tower; the laboratory upstairs is the source of the racket though she’s not inclined to rush into whatever banging and clanging is happening.
Walking delicately, she rounds the stairs to the entryway of her husband’s home of experimentation and Mahito’s place of resting. Stepping quickly, she’s mindful not to trip over the satin that cloaks her. The lights are off when she enters the room but the first thing she really notices is the smell. Formaldehyde and iron, a cruel mix of chemicals and blood. It’s not unfamiliar but is more intense than she’s ever remembered it. Something seeps into her shoes and she cringes, assumes a spilled jar will now stain the cushioning of her slippers.
“Ritsu?” She palms clumsily along the walls, along one of the cabinets that obscures the depths of the room as it creates a small walkway from the door. It’s too dim to really see, but her feet are still wet as she walks and she worries for broken glass now.
She doesn’t hear any kind of response-- no struggle, no shuffling.
“Ritsu, sweetheart?” Calling again, she’s close to the end of the miniature hallway. At the end, there’s more light, likely from a lit lamp on his desk. The moon isn’t full enough to cast a glow this warm and bright from the windows.
The voice that says her name from around the corner does not belong to her husband. A shiver runs through the whole of her body. From the tips of her freezing, wet toes to the tip of her skull, everything prickles. Hairs stand on end as she reaches the end of the walkway. When she turns the corner, she’s looking down at first. Blood, red, is all over the floor.
And when she looks up, there’s Mahito.
He’s smiling, stitches contort with how wide the grin he wears is. He’s holding his hands out but she can’t bring herself to look down-- locks her gaze on mismatched eyes and doesn’t move. Every part of her body stills and goes cold. Shocked so hard she can’t even stammer, her tone is hushed. “ What did you do? ”
His head tilts to the side and transparent confusion plays heavily on his features, replacing glee. “You look upset.”
He takes a step forward and something heavy and wet plops and squishes onto the medical bed he had probably been laying on minutes before. She winces at the sound, finally looks to his hands and they’re coated in deep crimson up to his elbows and beyond. On the table where he was constructed, there’s an organ of some kind. Reflexively, she looks around when panic sets in.
On the floor, there’s a mangled body.
Everything in her world starts to spin. She stumbles to the side, towards where Ritsu’s chair usually is. It’s been pushed back so her hands don’t find purchase on something to keep her upright. The first wheeze of breathless lungs comes. Scrambling away from the creation, she trips over the legs of what can only be her late husband’s body and topples to the floor into a pool of his blood. On hands and knees, she shrieks.
“Wait,” he says.
Hearing heavy footfall behind her, she pushes forward and away on instinct. Screaming again, she comes to the end of the puddle of plasma and the blood on her hands begins to dry. She crawls forward until she runs into his desk. Until she can’t move any further away from the person who’s killed the man she promised to love, for better and for worse. He lays, limp, behind the two of them and she’s forced to look his way when she crawls under the surface of the desk he used to sit at. Where she used to set coffee, lean on to kiss his cheek even if it made bile rise in her throat. The tears start to flow faster and this forces her to recognize she’s been crying. But he’s chasing her now. She can’t give a spare thought to the way saline runs off her face as she drags herself away.
Hyperventilating, her perspective on the world shakes with the rise and fall of her chest. Now between her and the body are a pair of legs in tattered, old pants. They were Ritsu’s once. She pressed those pants, folded them, picked them out herself. Now hideous, they already haunt her. Reimi scoots into the area beneath the desk meant for his feet, the carved out shelter being her only hope of retreat from the monster. Making an ugly sound, one stained hand goes to push him away. He doesn’t waver.
Instead, “ hey… ” He draws the word out like he’s comforting a child. Flooding her view are long tendrils of powdery blue hair. A curtain of it comes first as his head leans down. She’s affronted with his face as he begins to kneel down. He’s covered with life’s essence everywhere she looks but his eyes. They’re contrasting shades with blown pupils, large from the low light. “What’s wrong?”
It’s all arresting.
She cannot physically move further away, is pinned by the wall of the desk behind her. She cannot cry more, has run out of tears in shock. She cannot fear more, has run out of dread in her bones.
She hugs herself and closes her eyes as she’s speechless. There isn’t enough sympathy in the world, no empathy in this room, nothing can provide for her the way she needs. With cold realization, she thinks to herself that this has been the case since she became a Tamada. Marrying Ritsu was the worst thing she’s ever done and now he’s dead. Hopelessness is a drone over her with such ferocity, a lifetime of despair takes over her.
Shuddering and shaking, she relives every critical point that led to this. Leaving home too young. Sleeping with a man too many years her senior for a place to live. Marrying him out of desperation. Staying, despite it all. Despite the words she knew were too sharp, the slaps she knew she never deserved. Defending him even when he moved them a hundred miles away from what was once home. Not leaving in the night when the abuse got worse, the more he recognized their distance from society. Her damning domesticated streak that left her with no bite, even when he began collecting dead bodies.
All Reimi Tamada has ever been is housebroken.
A docile wife. Stripped of this identity and the sole vessel for her misplaced love, there’s a void in her chest. Confusion and anguish and relief and hatred muddle together. The last five years have been worse than the first five of their marriage. Bitterly, grief washes over her extremities and cools her. This is almost simple.
“He’s gone now! It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”
As if echoing her most shameful, deepest thoughts, Mahito’s in her ear again. He’s crept forward in the time her eyes were closed. With them open, she can see there’s an earnestness behind his expression. It’s strangely disarming; his smile isn’t one she needs to be afraid of. If he was going to hurt her, he would have already. His expressions aren’t misleading.
Breathing begins to slow with resolve. This moment marks the first in a decade where she isn’t scared for her wellbeing. The sigh she gives is a shaky thing. It’s also cleansing— she feels the slightest bit lighter. Still nauseous, she can’t avoid the weight of sitting with a murderer. Across from her, his smile is well-meaning as he crawls closer. He’s innocent of his violence like a rabid dog is. “I saved you,” he asserts, “see?”
He gestures to the body behind them before his hands come to her cheeks, covered in sticky, drying blood. When she instinctively recoils, the man frowns and reaches back out to cup her face. He’s firmer this time and she can’t move her jaw from where he holds her.
“Don’t touch m- mm —”
Cut off by a hasty pair of lips, Reimi’s eyes are wide open when Mahito kisses her. He grips the lower half of her face in a way that pushes her lips apart, and despite the struggling, he keeps their contact. Her hand’s on his chest and she’s pushing but this seems only to make him more determined. His lashes are closed together but brow furrows as he moves his lips against her own. She puts a hand to his neck and shoves, leans closer just so she can lash out to try to forcibly split the two. With a gasp, she’s released and he’s a mixture of confused and frustrated.
One of his hands comes off of her cheek and for a moment, she flinches back. Expects a slap. It doesn’t come and guilt churns in her stomach. There’s so much unfairness, she almost wishes he’d hit her rather than the madness that is this act of affection. His free hand grabs her hand on his neck and holds it in a way that could be tender if not for all the force behind it. He glances down at where their hands are touching then looks to her lips. Pinning her hand down to the ground beside them, he tries to smile again. Leans his head towards her but she dodges this time, angles to the side in a near miss. Their cheeks glance one another and she can feel his frown more than she can see it.
“Isn’t this what husbands do?” The hand still on her jaw moves to hold her chin and makes her face him. “Isn’t this what we should do?”
In the close proximity and darkness, she can’t see the aftermath of what she’s lived through. Just this very desperate man, and the adoration in his eyes she can’t explain away. “You’re not my husband,” she protests anyway.
He returns, “but I protected you.”
That much she can’t deny. It inspires reflection she feels initially gross for.
It’s been a long time since anyone has put her first. Prioritized her needs and made her feel human in some way. And for all the harm he’s wrought, there’s an element to his transgressions that she can’t help but be grateful for. In the future she can now see, there’s an escape. She could sell the estate and move somewhere quaint. She could finally return from the countryside to society and pray the savings are enough to last her. Change her name even, go back to what she was before the ring on her finger altered everything.
Though he doesn’t know what she’s thinking about, he gazes at her with patience. There’s a mournful kindness in his grey and blue that reminds her of an evening months prior. Ritsu didn’t often leave his office, but she’d visit Mahito any time her husband was away. Under the guise of cleaning the office space, she gained a friend in the creation that was hidden away.
In summer dusk, she found herself upstairs. Ritsu wouldn’t be back for hours and he mentioned something about the laboratory being a mess before he departed. It wasn’t new, what she was doing. What was new were fresh bruises from the night before, still red and angry as they developed. She hadn’t thought much of them in the moment. Just focused herself on moving medical tools to the sink for her husband to tend to on his own time. Mercifully, it wasn’t often that she had to wash the blood herself.
Moving around the room, it was something like peaceful. Mahito was laying under a white sheet when she came in, she assumed he was sleeping when she started to tidy up the room around him. Moving Ritsu’s chair back to its place, clearing off surfaces and rolling portable tables back to the walls so there was breathable space in the office. Comfortable on her own, she had begun placing different things back on the shelf space from the desk.
When the amalgamation jolted upright and said “BOO”, she dropped the glass jar that was in her hands. It shattered to pieces at her feet as the man laughed and she jumped a foot back.
The first emotion that registered was beyond a rational, spooked fear, it was a level of panic-- she ruined something of his. How would he react? What would he do to her? The markings on her face already stung, another blow to her cheek would be devastating. So she fell to her knees and began scooping glass shards up with shaking fingers, eyes wide. Pain wasn’t an object to her if it meant she could fix her mistake before her husband returned to see her failings.
Distant were the sounds of the creation getting up from the medical bed. He stepped over to her with little regard for the glass in the bottoms of his feet and crouched down in front of her.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he was still laughing.
She looked up to him and before she could say anything of the gravity of the situation, his eyes filled with surprise. Immediately after was a mixture of curiosity and thinly-veiled rage.
“Your face! He…?”
Genuine upsetedness and intrigue forced her to stop in her tracks. Caught completely off guard, there was too little time between his reaction and her open mouth to defend her husband like she was so used to doing. “I’ll be fine.”
Usually, signs of the scientist’s anger were worn on less obvious parts of her body. This streak of madness had been too much too quickly, and Mahito’s noticing of her injury only makes her cheek burn harder. At mention of it, she hid her face. Tilted down and away to focus again on the broken pieces between them.
He caught her chin in his hands. Searched her expression blatantly and shook his head. With narrowed eyes, he had tilted his head to the side. His expression was full of such sad affection. When he spoke, he sounded certain. “You don’t deserve it.”
“I…” Tongue tied, any reply fizzled on her parted lips.
“No one should ever do this to you,” he had said, grave. Almost self-deprecating, “even a monster wouldn’t.”
There was such a seriousness to it, Reimi was speechless. In her stunned silence, the creature had been the one to finish cleaning up the glass.
It’s the rise of autumn now, and he still looks at her with the grace he did then. Still holds her the same. Lost in introspection, there’s something comforting to having his hand on her. The contact becomes grounding as the clouds part in her mind. The murderer before her is still close and quiet and has that look in his eyes that spells out clear dedication.
With blood on her chin, Reimi wonders, is this the price of freedom?
If it is, she is willing to bear it.
And in a moment of total fragility, their lips meet again.
She can’t bring herself to push him away this time. He feels it, knows the truth of her acceptance when her eyes close. The wick between them catches flame as he ignites and her resistance melts away like soft wax.
Though he still holds her hand, it’s no longer pinned. He forces his fingers between her own and it feels miles more sentimental than it did mere minutes before. Heartstrings in her chest are pulled taut as he makes a sound against her lips that sounds like genuine enjoyment. A small moan from her consent to him. Their descent into the kiss grows deeper as her lips part for him, tongue sweeps over her and pries her open so easily.
Mahito’s hand falls from her chin, traces down her neck, to where it meets her shoulder. He pulls her closer, out from under the desk, and she finds herself chasing his mouth as he leans back and urges her into his lap. There’s a world where she would’ve hesitated, pushed him away again. But this path, where the only thing tying her to shame and fear is staining the wood floor across the room, is notably freer.
When they part, she’s light of breath. Head spins with how close he remains even when he releases the hand he holds. Like she’s alive for the first time, she’s the one to initiate next. Rises up slightly onto her knees so she can move to straddle him, slots their mouths together in a way he won’t protest. His hands are both on her waist now and beneath her, he moans again. She can feel him smile into the kiss, accomplished rather than reassuring now, and pulls away just to see it for herself. Coated in a different kind of relief, the man looks pleased. Eyes faintly lidded with the beginnings of arousal. Constructed from different bodies, this proves he’s still just a man.
And, like a man, his eyes dart down to where her robe has started to open. Hardly covered breasts are bare beneath the cream, silken fabric. Looking at her hungrily, “he never told you that you were pretty enough.”
There’s a pang in her chest and in her core simultaneously. Despair and love are unequal bedfellows as she shakes her head and kisses him instead of bring words to what he makes her feel. She goes to tug the robe over herself, not yet ready to be so bold, but Mahito pulls away.
“Don’t cover up,” he mumbles against her lips. His hands, large and warm, ease under the neckline that continues to slip off of her breasts. Her nipples, hardened, are exposed when he begins to push her robe further open. “You’re so beautiful…”
As he pulls away and admires, she’s fraught with insecurity but can’t bring herself to hide and disobey what he’s said. Instead, she focuses on the way he eats her form with his eyes. Devours every inch of her skin with staring before he meets her gaze again. As he does, his head leans down. A kiss at her collar is placed before he shudders. Lathes his tongue across her skin before smiling impishly. More kisses trail down the expanse of her chest until he gets closer to that sensitive area that surrounds her bud. One of his hands cups under her other breast as his lips finally encircle her nipple and she whimpers, shivers. The contact is gentle as his tongue runs over her.
“Mahito,” she moans. His name comes easy, airy, as she does her best not to hide her face and look away from the soft treatment he gives her. It’s the most loving touch she’s been afforded in years. That melting feeling returns as she gives into him. Fingertips card through his long hair, she does what she can not to cling crushingly closer to him.
Massaging her chest, he pulls away from her and licks his lips. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs before switching his mouth to the other breast. Another shiver runs through her body, prickles the hairs along the back of her neck as her robe falls off her shoulders and pools at the base of her spine.
Neediness builds as he suckles at her, eyes twitch closed as she relishes in the feeling of it. He worships at her body, free hand drifts behind her body to caress her bare back. Fingertips trace her with a level of compassion she didn’t know his stitched hands were capable of. He touches her like she’s made of porcelain put back together. Like her pieces are looking for any excuse to fall back apart, and he’s treading along the faultlines that make up those separations of self.
Bathed in the remaining midnight oil, Reimi rejects the demons that claw at her consciousness. The idea that she doesn’t deserve this grace. Her eyes tingle with the beginnings of tears, though they’re not from bereavement. Instead, it’s a dizzying mix of appreciation and vulnerability. Shedding her clothes is like shedding layers of skin and he holds her barest parts in his hands. They are two souls and nothing more in the moment. This idyllic bonding makes her unable to see him as human, but more than.
When he looks up at her, mouth glossy and eyes glassed over, his head sways to the side. Eyes fill with concern, “it’s okay now-- There’s nothing to cry about.”
“It’s… I-I’m not sad,” she manages. Weakly, she smiles. There’s a small sniffle as she does what she can to banish the few teardrops that have gathered. “I’m not sad.”
“Then why cry?”
“Because I want more,” she admits.
“More?”
Blinking back tears, she looks him over. Takes a breath to collect herself. It’s difficult when he feels so genuine. When this connection intensifies the things she’s only ever dreamed of before, and feels like it could grant those wishes.
She’s so tired of rejection and pain and loneliness. Isolation has loomed over too much of her life. Presented with someone unabashedly wanting of her companionship, she fractures.
With her heart in her throat, “ love me more .”
His lips are on hers in an instant. With just as much speed, his hands move to the tie that binds her robe and fumbles to loosen it. When it’s even looser on her body, his hands help guide it off of her. He takes care of her. Moves slow enough that she’s not uncomfortable but eagerness is evident in every shift of his body. They don’t disconnect, not as the robe comes off, she won’t risk letting go of him as heat simmers between the pair of them.
Lightheaded when they finally break away from the kiss, the bareness of his sewn-together chest is against her when his arm curls behind her spine and seals them against one another. She’s panting softly, he has that hunger from before again.
“You’ll let me,” he says. It’s not a question but falls just short of a demand as he angles his body forward. She’s pushed back in return, he cradles her with his arm as he leans her towards the floor. Reclined, she meets the hardwood behind them and shudders with the slight chill of it when his arm comes out from behind her. He’s unphased by this and a hand trails between tightly-packed bodies, down her abdomen. He inches closer to that spot between her legs, moves over pubic mound to trace lower. “Let me touch you.”
This is stronger than a suggestion, so she sheepishly parts her legs for him. He’s on his knees, propped up with his free arm above her. His eyes don’t leave hers as his fingers drift lower still and make contact with the slickness of the apex of her thighs. His jaw falls open, eyes lid further as he draws himself through her folds and finds them soaking. Her legs are quivering now, anticipation draws her nerve endings to their most sensitive state. “Mah-Mahito…”
“You’re so wet here,” he marvels.
She whimpers, back arches when he lazily drags his fingers back and forth. His fingers graze her clit and she moans louder-- he fixates on the sound, repeats the motion again and again just to get the reaction he craves. Unable to help it, she whines, “m-more…”
“Gonna,” he soothes, “I wanna make you sound like that more.”
Mahito’s careful with the way he eases his fingertips over her in curious circles. He toys with her like this, initially mindful, but presses touch more firmly into it as she relaxes for him. The roll of her hips serves as encouragement. Slow, rhythmic buck of her body as he gathers this arousal that makes her drip thick heat solely from his actions. He likes it, likes her, and it’s evident. The appreciative sound he makes when she calls his name again is so real and humbling. He wants her. He wants to please her.
Mahito’s smiling as his fingers drift lower to her slit. A sole finger prods at her opening and her legs twitch to close, but he’s seated between them. “Now, now,” he chides, “don’t be shy…”
A second finger joins the first in tracing the entrance to her pussy, pushes forward just enough that it makes her tremor. “Mahito, please ,” she mewls. So he complies unthinking, forces the pads of his fingers deep within her suddenly. Her hips jerk up which only lodges him deeper within her-- she moans, deep in her chest, and a blossom of heat blooms through the entirety of her form. It intensifies as he begins to move, slight curl of his fingers draws noise after noise from her wide open mouth. Unabashed, she lets her arousal fill the air around them.
Along with her voice are the sounds her cunt makes around his digits, pointed thrusts of his hand have her keening. Tension in her core makes the world so easy to forget, focuses wholly on the man propped above her before he angles upwards and makes her eyes flutter back. Impishly, Mahito laughs when her eyes roll-- proud of himself, tinged with excitement at her reactions.
“You liked that,” he giggles, continues fucking into her just the same way as she throbs around him, needy. “What about this ?”
He curls his fingers that much more and it forces a shrill gasp from Reimi. Startled as she contracts around him, she’s that much closer to the edge. “Ah-- Ah-Again,” she pants, “Mah-Mahito, again --”
He doesn’t hesitate and she loves him for it, finds vision becomes hazier as he finds the places within her that drive her to the brink. She aches for him, misses the feeling of fullness, knows it’ll be better with him. Thinks this tryst will be more fulfilling than she’s ever had before, just based on the intensity she already feels. Loss of reality is surely aiding this fact, but she can’t bring herself to care. Not when it feels this good, not when it’s nearly overwhelming her and he’s hardly explored her body. With each passing second, he hones in on the things that make her quake for him. He seems less afraid to touch her now. Less like she’s fragile, he uses his hand to beacon her closer to the edge. Almost as if he’s asking her to break for him, dare her to fall apart so he can ogle the fallen pieces.
Mahito accelerates, pace faster as her chest stutters in its rise and fall. She has nothing to hold on to, reaches up for him and rests her wrist on the back of his neck to ground herself in the moment. Just having more of their skin touching makes her that much more tense, muscles are taut in her tummy as she feels the beginning of her end.
“ Close ,” she whines. It’s hard to get the word out when she feels as though she’s constricting so tight around his fingers, it’s hard to breathe. She’s shaking now, legs twitch in anticipation as she edges closer and closer to the release she deserves.
He nearly grants it, doesn’t slow down, just says her name and it will be her undoing.
“ Reimi ,” he repeats, and she melts.
Around his fingers, she cums. Voice is high in her throat now, desperate sounds flood from her as her lower half stutters up into him. The feeling that overcomes her makes her dizzy, almost nauseous with how fast it rolls through her. The orgasm is quick and powerful and bright, sharp to her senses in a way that makes her cries pitch higher still as he doesn’t let up on her. Still thrusts into her harshly, fingers curl into that spot that has her vision blurred at the edges. Tracers cross the paths in front of her eyes and she loses herself to the moment.
There’s such relief in it. As toes curl, as hands shake, there’s a deep breath she can finally let go in the form of her moans. In this climax, he rules her. Puppets her with each bump of his knuckles against her cunt, drags every possible sound from her as he groans.
Her body still trembling, he coos down to her, “there you go…”
And finally, he begins to slow. Less harshly than it had picked up speed, he calms down. Leaning closer to her, when she can focus her eyes again, he’s smiling so softly. Lazy and satisfied, he tilts down to kiss her. There’s an articulated shudder as he pulls himself free of her and she gasps into his open mouth. He eats up the sound, deepens the kiss. When Mahito pulls away, he rests back on his haunches. Admires his hand, where her wetness mixes with a sickening shade of red.
“You’re all over me,” he laughs. When she fails to blurt out an apology and lays, slack-jawed and flushed, he laughs harder. “Look at you-- Awh, you’re blushing so hard!”
Still unsure of what to say, she shakes her head and hides her eyes with a shaking hand. An apology comes this time. “I’m… S-Sorry?”
“Don’t be,” he chuckles, laughter trails off.
Her hand comes off of her eyes and he’s slowly touching himself while he observes her. The bulge in his ripped slacks strains as he rubs his palm over himself. His head falls forward and to the side with a small groan. She feels almost virginal with the way she finds herself intimidated by him. Though she’s sure he lacks physical experience, his intuition is strong. Whatever instincts had been passed onto him are strong, base and animal, only tempered by his light-hearted nature. So, in an attempt to avoid her nerves, she reaches up at him. Begs him to come closer with a flutter of her lashes.
His eyes squint together just a bit as he smiles, smug. “You want more?”
“I… I want you ,” she confesses.
A deep expression of satisfaction takes him for all of a second before he goes to undo the buttons of his pants. Mahito frees himself, clothes fall to pool at his knees and he’s fast about clearing them off. As he strips bare, she can’t help but watch. His cock, hard and leaking, twitches. Just the sight of it makes her clench around nothing, neediness grows as he shifts back between her legs. One of his hands is around the base of his length now, the other takes a handful of the softness of her thigh and urges her apart. He strokes himself once, twice, before they meet eyes again.
“You really do, don’t you?” He’s teasing her. The smirk he wears isn’t unkind in the slightest and carries a deeper sentiment that’s thankful.
She extends trust to the man she thinks deserves it, “I do…”
Gratified, he laughs softly. “Good,” he starts, leans forward to prop himself up on one hand above her. “‘Cause I want you . Isn’t that lucky?”
The way he cuts through all her gnawing tension makes her smile— sheepish and still excited, she looks up at him like the unlikely savior he is. Odds have always been stacked against her but life feels less unfair in this delirium she faces. The stitches along his cheek raise in a smile and she reaches out to touch them. She strokes along the thick, raised scar tissue where his joined parts blend together. His head tilts into her hand as he shifts between her legs. The sound he makes is soft, surprisingly needy, and his eyes close.
A wave of emotion surges when she realizes this is the first time he’s ever been touched with sincere affection too. Her fingertips slide into his hairline and card through long locks, she guides him closer to her. With their bodies nearly connected, his cock prods at her inner thigh and his eyes flutter open. Flicker down between where they touch. He uses his hand to guide himself closer to her slit before his gaze returns to her.
“ I’m lucky,” he asserts. “Looking at you beneath me…”
She wants to hide her face again but can’t, not with how close he is. He kisses her nose, must notice the brief lapse in her certainty. It doesn’t last for long, as the second he goes to pull away, she pulls him in for another, proper kiss. They meld like this long enough for him to start rocking his hips towards her. Parting her folds with the head of his cock but not yet entering, he soaks himself with her eagerness. She moans into his mouth, has to tear away from the kiss to pant softly. The stimulation is enough to make eagerness turn to desperation.
“I want you,” she repeats, keens. Slow buck of her hips causes more contact between them and it makes her mewl, heavy breaths against him when she can’t control herself.
Mahito’s brow furrows with pleasure, caught off guard by her small movements. “No more teasing,” he agrees with her in his own way. His hand slips between them again and thumb presses against the shaft of his cock to angle himself properly. “I should give you what we want, huh?”
“ Please ,” escapes her.
As his hips slide forward, his mouth slots against hers. He moves all at once. Melting into the kiss, the moan that comes between met lips is marred by their ardor in the most beautiful way. She can’t mind the way the sound is muffled. Eyes flutter closed, she allows herself to dissolve in the moment. This one moment of unity, a marker of the much brighter future ahead of her. She won’t let it be twisted by doubt and as he makes the first real thrust into her, he coaxes a noise of utter submission. She gives in to him. Gives into pleasure, into safety, into comfort.
It starts tender. Lovingly, he shifts his body, and when he withdraws from the kiss, he’s gazing down at her with unadulterated affection.
His smile isn’t nervous but does strike her as less confident than he’s usually been-- “I’ve thought about this since I met you…”
Instantly flushed, she feels the way red overtakes her cheeks. Even her chest heats with blush. It’s a lot at once, she can’t imagine this is true but would never not believe him. So she clarifies instead, “this?”
“Having you just to myself.”
Her head falls back. To be desired is euphoric. To be coveted is beyond that, ascends as she closes her eyes. “You can’t --”
He cuts her off, “Can! And did, for too long,” he chuckles. The sound is more efforted than the giggles before but still light, still makes her smile.
Pumping into her a couple more times, he starts to find a rhythm. She clutches at the back of his neck, fistful of hair holds them so tightly together as he bucks into her. Every movement he makes jolts her, shock to her system even when she anticipates it coming. Moaning comes faster when he settles into pace and sweat builds on his brow. He looks focused, the most intense he’s been in a setting that hasn’t seen him singularly livid with the man that used to be alive. Before her mood shifts, she snaps back into the moment. Focuses on the arousal that pours off of him. Intoxicating energy that has her captive too.
“Mahito,” she calls. Tension on his face is obvious, makes her core twist when it’s so clear how much he’s restraining himself with the slow, intentioned movements. He hums in reply, voice thick. “You feel,” a gasp, “so good--”
“Pretty girl,” he praises back.
Eyes shut tighter when she flutters around him, sensitive to the compliments. He chokes out a sound so she does it again. Constricts around his cock with a breathy noise and hopes it feels as intense for him. She watches his jaw fall open as it had the first time he really touched her, displays his neediness for her transparently. A small spark of ego forms when he’s entranced by the way she moves her hips upwards into him.
His arms, braced above either of her shoulders, flex-- one of his hands scrapes the hardwoods beneath them, fraught with containing himself. It’s clear in the way he moves that he wants more, wants faster, and struggles with restraint when she reflects his desire with her own.
So she whimpers to free both of them, “don’t-- Don’t hold back, please--”
There’s a monstrous groan-- exhale of exaltation-- seconds before he hunkers down. In his adjustment, there’s a new angle he hits that makes her nails scrape at his scalp, electrified. She mumbles an apology but he simply shakes his head. “You can’t hurt me,” he laughs. “But I really should be careful with you.”
“I-I-- I can take it, please, Mahito--”
“Yeah?” He goads her, grinning devilishly, “you think you can?”
Reimi nods rapidly. She loosens her grip on his hair to lock her forearm behind his neck. It links them closer still and now they’re practically kissing again. She begs with her eyes. “I can, I can,” she urges. “ Please .”
There’s a split second where he looks as though he’s deliberating, but his arousal cannibalizes his restraint and he chases hedonism. Sinking in deep, thickness of his cock makes her feel like she can’t breathe until he withdraws. Her head spins but before she can gather herself, he plunges in deeper. Eyes twitch and roll back, gratified, as he lets himself go now too. There’s an animalistic quality to the way he thrusts into her now. His sticky forehead presses against her collarbone, he nudges himself up until he can kiss and nibble her skin there.
The sound she makes is nasal, high and light and dizzy as his teeth drag along her flesh and up her neck. He’s hungry, bites into the side of her neck to anchor himself to her body. She clings to him openly now. Legs tremble as all she can do is take him. It’s what she pleaded for, satisfaction saturates her as much as the pleasure does.
When he unclenches his jaw, releases her tender skin, his breath is hot on her neck and tickles faintly. “You sound so pretty, pet,” he groans.
“Th-Thah--” She attempts gratitude but it falters, stuttered. “Th-Thaaah--”
“What was that?” He’s teasing again, she can’t see him but knows he must be grinning. Eyes narrowed, shit-eating.
The second she opens her mouth again, he fucks into her so abruptly, her speech is syncopated again. “Th-- Thank you--”
“You can barely speak now! How cute !”
As if to prove his point, he bucks into her again in a way that makes her gasp. Over, and over, he does this. She sputters sound but can’t find the purchase to right herself and produce actual words. There are a few lame attempts but as the heat builds in her core, nothing coherent comes out. Just mewling sounds that sound more wanton than anything she’s ever said in her life. There’s a thrill to that too; experiencing a new height frees her every second it consumes her body.
Her eyes squint and, with great effort, she manages his name. “Mah-Mahito-- I-I--”
“Shhh, that’s okay,” he shushes against her neck. His soothing is somehow giddy. “Just let me love you.”
Reimi whines again. This time is pitched up from the last and thoroughly humiliates her with just how needy she is, hearing the word ‘love’. To be loved is all that she’s ever wanted. And though he doesn’t fully understand what he’s saying, she knows he can’t really love her yet, she can’t help but believe he means it. In his own way, this is love. And he gives it to her. Toes curl as he hits a spot inside her that has her making that high sound again, inebriated by the feeling.
He sounds self-aggrandizing, “you sound like that for me .”
Only you , she wants to say. Only you now . But it doesn’t come out. She’s not articulate enough for it, but the look in her eyes must give enough away for him to understand as he pulls back. He separates their upper bodies to drive harder into her. She grabs up at his shoulders, holds on to anything she can, and doesn’t pay it mind when her nails turn to claws in his skin.
“You’re mine now, aren’t you?”
Feverish, her head goes up and down. Just hearing it is enough to cause wet heat to trickle further between her thighs. Slick sound becomes more present in her ears and, while it’d ordinarily embarrass her to be such a mess, it succeeds only in driving her to the edge. She dances there, flirts with the abyss, as he grins down at her with hazy eyes. For all his ease, she’s frantic, needy, doesn’t stop nodding her head or holding on to him for dear life.
But this doesn’t seem to be enough now. He rasps out a groan at her unravelling, but still pushes her further. “Say it.”
“Mahito--”
“Say it for me,” he insists, almost with a whine of his own.
With utter sincerity, she opens her mouth, and believes the words she lets out. “ I’m yours !”
It causes a ripple through both of them. His head bows and he pants harder, overcome with something she can’t quite place. The feeling of belonging is what washes over her. The joy of being a part of a whole again makes her chest bubble over with heat. Hotness radiates from each nerve ending as she makes helpless, hopeless little sounds. He ruts into her with abandon, almost as if possessed by something beyond himself. She’s close and she wonders if he feels it, the way she clenches around him. The way her body attunes to him, the longer he fucks into her, the more he pins her body beneath him.
He grunts though, a sound she hasn’t heard from him yet. It’s dark and depraved in nature, makes her flutter around him again and his head falls back. Hair cascades over his shoulders and she watches him, enamored, as he gets off on her. He calls her name before he meets her eyes again, she can’t help the satisfaction that comes when he squints as she contracts around him. Mention of her in the most direct way just has a dizzying effect. Makes her feel lighter, closer, and she cries out for him.
“ Again ,” she begs, sobs this plea as she faces the ledge she knows she’s bound to fall from. “Mahito, again --”
He doesn’t give her what she wants instantly. He does react bodily though, pace quickens when he senses just how close she is. Animal instinct drives both of them and one of her hands trails up to the nape of his neck. Pulling him closer, she takes a fistful of hair. Like this, he’s panting against her. Puffs of air come fast, laced with the groans of his arousal, and her eyes slam shut when it sounds as though he’s trying to make out her name.
It comes.
“ Reimi ,” he moans just below her ear, and like before, she loses herself.
Swimming through syrupy lust, her whole body feels thick with it. Climax of her arousal has her reeling, desperately holding on to her new lover as he growls. He spills inside as she constricts around him, milks him, weeps gratitude as she does. Pitiful noises fall from her mouth as she rides the waves of euphoria as they crash over her, leaving this tingling, numb feeling in their wake. It’s as pleasant as it is strange, whiting out for him. Nothing else matters but the prickling touch across her form. Everything but the convergence of their bodies is nullified as she sings for him. Loud and strong, she doesn’t restrain herself from painting the picture of pleasure he fucks into her.
Mahito pumps into her slower now, punctuated thrusts that make her feel dizzy with overstimulation. The satisfaction he brings to her is raw, unfiltered. Intensity of it crystallizes in taut muscles before they finally relax— tremors course through her as aftershocks begin and she’s whimpering for him again. Tone is softer as he seats himself inside her in his entirety. Her legs quiver as they had before. This time, it’s in exertion rather than nervousness.
And in the comedown, there’s comfort.
For all her trembling, her grip on his hair loosens enough for him to lean his head back. He pecks at her jaw before pulling back further and stares down at her, hazy with release. This is easy. He is simple. The man above her reaches up to stroke some of her sweat-soaked hair from her forehead. It’s followed by a light kiss there too, gentle and playful as he had been before.
For all her fondness of the creation before this night, she’s still surprised by the depth of emotion she feels in the aftermath.
Relief is strong throughout the entirety of her person. There’s a feeling like this was somehow meant to happen. That what she deserved was a happier ending— but like much of her life, it took sacrifice to find that glimpse of peace. Ultimately, her successes have always been bound in grief. Someday, she hopes this will be different. Tonight marks the beginning of a new chapter. Reimi decides this one will be happier. She’ll pursue only what serves her, even if that means her life is less typical than she always thought it would be.
Looking up at him, he seems so blissful. Not pure but happy. She supposes they’re alike in some ways. Tarnished, but better together. His hair falls in his eyes as his head tilts and she wonders what it’ll be like once the morning comes.
This night, like a flash of lightning, is quick with incalculable consequences.
Her distracted introspection is interrupted by a giggle from above her. She quirks a brow, coming to her senses, and he shakes his head at her. Moving slowly, he finally shifts his body to pull out of her and lay at her side instead. He takes a moment to get comfortable before speaking.
“You look busy,” he snorts, sticks out his tongue. “Lighten up, silly girl.”
She shakes her head, attempts a small smile to appease the man. His lighthearted nature makes her tone shades softer than she expects. “I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
Contemplative, she can’t bring herself to look at him. Gazing up at the ceiling, she watches the flicker of the lamp’s flame cast different shadows among the rafters. They sway and dance as her emotions do, somehow both steady and unsure.
“Why did you…” She trails off. It’s still not clear in her mind if she’s more concerned with the kiss or the kill. Staying ambiguous, her eyes shut. “Why?”
He assumes the latter. Murmurs her name tenderly, draws fingertips lightly over the side of her arm, making her shiver. He doesn’t stop even when she does. Trailing his touch down, he finds her hand and laces his through it as he had done earlier. It’s less demanding this time and she holds him back.
“I couldn’t keep watching him hurt you.“
In a heartbeat, her eyes are wet with tears. A torrent of emotion makes her feel like she’s choking when she draws in a shaking, painful breath. There are two main pieces to what he says. An acknowledgment of his feelings for her, and the total validation of what she’s been through. The abuse at the hands of her husband is something she’s struggled to name for most of her time with the man. To have someone else that doesn’t deny what happened shakes her to her core. Gratitude is overwhelming.
He said he protected her earlier, but in the end, it’s more than that. So she swallows down the lump in her throat and bids away budding tears. There’s a smile in her tone when she calls out to him. “Mahito?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you for saving me.”
He takes their clasped hands up towards his lips, plants a kiss on her knuckles. She can feel a grin of his own against her fingers and it signals that he’s back to giddy. Though when he speaks, it’s considerably more tame. As if she’s thanking him for something mundane, all he says is “of course.”