When I open my eyes, he's still there.
It… It takes me a moment just to take it in. To watch his peaceful face as he rests under me, eyes closed, his lips barely open, just enough for his breath to pass through my hair and fill me with a warmth I hadn't felt in far too long that redoubles when I feel his arm possessively wrapped around my waist.
I can barely see him. He's… shades of grey, harsh lines only hinted at by the slight morning light filtering under my bedroom's door.
My cheek rests on his chest, and so does my open left hand, his warmth and heartbeat reassuring in their presence.
In telling me he's still here.
With me.
Something… My heart clenches before it flutters as I just process it. As I just allow myself to feel that hope I denied myself when he slept here with Iroha and me. I didn't have to with Haruno, not with everything still being untangled, with our relationship shifting and leaving me far more worried than at ease.
['It may not last. But I won't let it end,'] he told me right before he drifted off to sleep while I held him, while I rested my naked body on top of his.
… Sometimes, it's [really] hard to believe he's a teenager.
Which is a good thing! I mean, I'm already in big enough trouble with [Iroha] adding herself into this to even contemplate if I would ever be attracted to actual, regular teenagers, and not…
Not just [them].
But… It was only Haruno. Before them, it was only Haruno.
And she was anything [but] a regular teenager.
Does it make it better? Does it mean I'm at all justified in doing this with them, in letting them shower me with love and acceptance when I know they shouldn't? When I am the one adult in here that should be responsible enough to put a stop to this?
Should.
['Promise what, Haruno?'] I asked her. Yesterday.
['That he would force you to confront your ideals. Your belief in what's genuine. That he would hurt you. Wound you,'] she told me, utterly truthful and sincere in that way only Haruno can be when everything else is stripped away, and lavender eyes look at and inside of me.
So. Should.
Because I hurt Haruno because of a 'should.' Because I first fled from Hachi because of a 'should.' Because I… I hurt myself because of a 'should.'
Yet… I can't be satisfied with such an easy answer. I can't say I'm willing to throw away everything that is right just because of my personal feelings. I won't renounce… my beliefs. Who I am.
And I don't think that's what Haruno wants from me.
Because she… loves me. Haruno loves me, as hard as it was to accept after that first drunken kiss that had so much of Miki and my mistakes on it. Because Haruno fell for Shizuka Hiratsuka, bumbling, grumbling teacher extraordinaire who cares too much for her favorites and keeps crossing the line of what is appropriate when it comes to them, even before that line turned into… this one.
So. Confront my ideals. My belief in what's genuine. Hurt me. Wound me.
They already have. Again and again. Because, if I learned something from Miki and the string of failures that followed?
Only those you allow to be close to you have the power to hurt you.
Hachiman is still under me. Still breathing slowly and shallowly, his breath over my forehead an almost unnoticeable caress.
Still here. With me.
I… I try not to disturb him, not to wake him up from his peaceful rest, the one I wish he could always have, even as I feel like clutching him tighter and closer, my body almost shivering with the repressed need for contact and reassurance.
So weak, Shizuka. You were always so weak.
But I manage. I manage to get a grip on myself and keep staring up at him, my cheek resting on his bare chest, one that is currently embarrassingly well-defined, given what it means for Hachiman to keep up his exercising routine…
I should [not] rub my thighs together. That way leads to less introspection and [definitely] less restful slumber.
So…
So I look up at him.
At the… the peace he exudes. The one thing he so rarely shows while clothed and out of our reach.
And it is genuine.
My breath almost catches in my throat.
Because… these [are] my ideals. Not what I've always been told is right. Not what anybody else would think is. I never cared for that. I only… only wanted to help. To reach out. To allow others the chance to grow better and heal.
And Haruno knew.
Of course she did. Of course Haruno, of all people, would know.
And, even if she acted on impulse or with a second layer of plans and intentions that she could sell to her own convoluted set of issues as something she should be personally invested in… She also acted out of love.
For me.
My eyes sting, and I desperately want to hide my face on Hachiman's chest, to rub it side to side as he wakes up full of confusion and holds me tightly against his warmth.
The way we're lying right now, it feels like he's taller than me. And one day, he'll be.
The thought is still… uncomfortable. That the day is still years away, that he will grow up, yet still hasn't.
I want them all to be adults and for this tortuous knot of feelings to untangle into love and acceptance without any of the guilt.
But, in the meanwhile…
I look at him.
At Hachiman.
At my lover, the one who is doing for me what I've tried to do for so many others as I chased after broken people and lent an ear or a shoulder to my wayward, favorite students.
At the man I love.
And it is genuine.
Isn't that right, Haruno?
I close my eyes, allowing the last dredges of my own sleepiness to come back, to wash over the complicated mess of emotions still welling up inside of me at waking up in the embrace of a man who loves me and who I know would never lie to me about it.
The smile comes to my lips without me even realizing it. Not until my cheeks strain.
I still feel a bit like crying, though.
Because I'm Shizuka Hiratsuka, Christmas Cake, the Dark Teacher With a Dark History, and I shouldn't be this happy.
I…
I remember my call with Miki. When I told her.
How she laughed, how we cried, how we still left so many things unsaid.
How she told me to take them and never let go.
So I allow myself the small selfishness of moving my arm over Hachi's chest and grabbing his shoulder, hugging him as tightly as I dare as I move my thigh over him to [feel him], to [know] he's there in the clearest way I can—
…
He's hard.
[Of course he's hard].
It's morning, and he's a young, increasingly fit man who should have somewhat recovered from even yesterday's exertions, and [of course] I just brushed the inside of my left thigh all over the underside of a shaft that beats and throbs, and—
…
I… haven't done this in a while.
Because I didn't feel like it. Because a part of me screamed at me not to show this much intimacy and eagerness to men who didn't return it. Because of a lot of reasons, but mostly because the last time I did, I regretted it after the way Takeda looked at me changed. How he seemed to think less of me just because…
I hold Hachi closer for a brief moment.
And then, slowly, I untangle myself from him, his hand falling from my waist and trailing down my lower back almost making me shiver, and, careful not to wake him up, I…
Crawl down his body.
I settle by his side, perpendicular to him, on my elbows and knees.
And I look back up at him.
His head is still turned toward where mine was a moment ago, and that alone makes me smile the silliest grin I've had since I was a teenager myself, but…
But in front of me is Hachi's cock.
I told Iroha it was more than big enough, that first time the two of them managed to get me naked and eager. And I would blame myself for it, but, really, I was [not] ready for what the two of them can do to me when working together. I swear, sometimes it's like they act in unison without even meaning to.
But that time… When Iroha looked at me, entranced, as I explained how to take care of…
I brush a strand of hair back over my right ear, lean forward, and smell him.
He showered after yesterday's events, of course. The bedroom needed quite a bit of airing before I could step in without feeling lightheaded, and all of us took turns in making ourselves presentable.
So I'm not smelling any traces of Haruno or Iroha on him. I'm not smelling their sex, their saliva, or their sweat.
I'm not smelling mine, either.
Which is a bit of a shame, because there's something about having his smell and mine combined that makes me… Well, it makes my nipples stand firm, my thighs tingle with the need to have something, [anything] brush between them, and a liquid heat below my navel spread inside of me until my labia wets, and I [yearn].
So, basically? It makes me feel like I'm already feeling.
Just at his scent. At that deep, entrancing cloud of sensation that enters my body and takes over my mind. At a man that smells like black earth being poured between spread fingers under a summer sun. Like something that used to be wet and gentle, but is now dry, and powdered, and scrapes at you, makes you feel [raw].
He smells like he could bury me. Like he could drown my thoughts until only he remained. Like he could take over everything of mine, and I would give it to him.
He smells like a selfishly selfless man who is about to get a very enthusiastic 'Good morning.'
So I allow my eyes to lid as I come closer and closer to his glans, to the almost velvety touch of his currently dry tip, and I purse my lips before blowing a gentle stream of cool wind over it.
He twitches. I smile.
And then I lean farther forward and gently kiss the side of his tip.
He still sleeps, even if his eyebrows are scrunched closer together, and that makes a thrill go down my spine and my smile widen, so I decide to stretch it out. To prolong the game as much as I can.
I turn my head, my hair spilling over the taut line of muscle that runs down from the crest of his hip, and I open my lips just enough for the very point of my tongue to pass between them and trace a line of saliva up and down his shaft, tasting his skin before I press my lips against it and keep moving from the ridge right under his head to the dark, curled hairs below.
Then I bury my nose in them and inhale.
My lower lips clench around nothing as I do, as more of him fills my head, and it takes me a moment of fluttering eyelashes to pull away and up, to turn my trailing lips into soft, intermittent kisses that keep spreading my saliva over the left side of his shaft until it glistens even with what little morning light comes under the door on the opposite side of my bed.
Part of me wants to straddle him. To rub the underside of his cock along my sex, spreading my juices on him until I can glide along the path his cock would set me on, every tilt of my pelvis pushing my clitoris right against hard, throbbing flesh that would feel even more wonderful inside of me, spreading me open, [stretching me].
But… I want to do this before. I want to shower his cock with tenderness and devotion.
I want to care for him.
I look once more at his still closed eyes, and his mouth is open wider than before, his breathing both deeper and faster as his chest [moves,] and I remember once again the way I felt when he bought that set of dumbbells just to…
I imagine Hachiman, taller than me, his shoulders a bit wider than they now are, his eyes as intense and burning as ever, and his hands grabbing me below my knees, lifting me above his cock before smiling that arrogant, [insufferable] grin of his as I panickily grab hold of his neck before he lowers me and…
I really, [really] want to fuck him right now.
Well, no, that's a lie. I really, [really] want him to fuck me right now.
But it's not the time.
Now is the time for me to go back up and gently suck his head into my mouth, both because I want him to wake up feeling as good as I can make him feel, and because I need something to keep myself silent before another mental image hits me and I whine in need, and craving, and…
Only half his head is inside me, and my soft tongue lies on top of him, the first drop of precum already coming out of him and making me yearn for more of the salty proof of his enjoyment of me.
And that would be enough. [Should] be enough.
But I look from the side of my eye up at him, at Hachi, lying on my bed, sleeping with an unguarded expression only marred by the sensations he's now feeling as he nears consciousness.
I look at the boy who made me feel loved. Whole.
Who brought me back together with one of my worse mistakes, giving both Haruno and me a chance to heal.
Who chased me when I fled. Who grabbed me and didn't let go, even as so many others had pushed me away.
I look at him, and there's the arousal, the desire.
But, more than anything, there's the… the feeling of warmth growing and growing inside my chest until it reaches my throat, and I feel like I can't breathe, like I will suffocate in love.
"Shi… Shizu?" he asks as his eyes finally open in narrow blinks.
My cheeks burn.
And I dive down and swallow half his shaft until his head rushes right past the opening of my throat.
"Holy [fu—!"] he says as his hand clenches the trail of hair I left behind me when I climbed down his body, and his hips barely twitch up before he restrains himself, not wanting to hurt me.
Despite the thick shaft spreading my lips open, my smile comes back.
Because Hachiman cares enough about me not to take advantage even right after waking up. Because his first reaction was to reach for me and then to avoid hurting me.
Because he loves me.
And being woken up with a blowjob has, apparently, not changed that.
I slowly lift my head, twisting around it to face him, feeling the hard flesh brush past my lips and pull at them counterclockwise, contorting my smile until I reach the ridge of flesh marking the start of his glans, and I increase my suction even as I keep moving up until the very tip of his cock audibly pops out of my mouth.
It's glistening with my saliva and his precum. With our mixed scents.
So I slide my left hand over his thigh to rest my elbow between his legs and grab the base of his shaft, holding the throbbing member still in front of me before I tilt my head to the side and, looking straight into his now wide awake eyes, I lay the gentlest kiss I can on his frenulum, sucking the taut line of skin between my lips and kneading it between them before slowly leaning away, stretching a thin thread of glistening spit between us until it snaps.
"Good morning… [Hachi]," I tell him with my sultriest tone, one that I will need to practice a bit more now that I finally have a use for it.
Now that I'm free to use it without shame or remorse.
And, as soon as his mouth drops open, I swallow his cock yet again, just to get the immense pleasure of, for once, silencing the insufferably witty man.
All the while, my cheeks strain with an unbidden smile.
One full of love.
==================
This work is a repost of my second oldest fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/all-right-fine-ill-take-you-oregairu.15676/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 92 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).
Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Brain-chan's intrusions into Hachiman's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance
Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: aj0413, LearningDiscord, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and help me keep writing snarky, maladjusted teenagers and their cake buffets, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!