Afterglow
Summary: Their 'after' is just as expected.
A.N: Grr! The umpteenth HachiYuki story! Pandering to the plebs! Artistically impoverished! Yeah, I know.
*
In philosophy, there's a principle called Occam's Razor which states that the correct answer to a question tends to be the simplest one. Wet tarmac indicates the event of rain. My cute little kohai's innocent demeanor indicates Machiavellian machinations in play. The picture of two people lying under the covers indicates previous or possible occurrence of coital activity.
The latter is also a terrible cliche that the unimaginative deities of romcom delight in engineering all too often, hence one I would vehemently oppose by principle.
As it happens, it's precisely why I am lying naked beside an equally naked Yukinoshita on her bed.
Et tu, Hikigaya Hachiman.
Life is like that, upending your convictions with cheery wantonness. Like a sadistic kid you have no control over. You inevitably capitulate to tyrannical forces, be it orange haired ogres or vengeful gods of romantic comedies.
"I understand that our exertions have made you more dim witted than usual, Hikigaya-kun, but your expression for the last ten minutes rather troublingly resembles the aftermath of a lobotomy. I didn't think it was possible for you to look even more idiotic, but I stand corrected. I'd hate to destroy your congenitally endangered braincells."
I turn my head to find Yukinoshita wearing her usual haughty expression. Huh. She regained her bearings quite fast. Last I remembered, she herself looked as if in a blissful narcotic daze.
"You were hardly articulate yourself, unless those sounds erupting from your throat actually constituted an arcane language," I shoot back.
Her eyes sparkle.
"Don't flatter yourself, Hikigaya-kun. Those were purely physiological responses. I assure you those could have been elicited by anybody else just as well, including myself."
Oi, oi. I performed well considering I had no previous experience. Though watching Yukinoshita pleasure herself wouldn't be an unpleasant prospect. Not at all.
"You sure know the way to a man's heart," I grumble to distract myself. Doing the deed has abruptly caused my formerly monochromatic imagination to burst into full colour. Exaggerations apparently fail once you savour the genuine thing. Poor otakus. Slavering over melons when apples tasted infinitely sweeter.
"You should feel relieved, Hikigaya-kun. You can now add gigolo to your pathetically meagre repertoire."
So much for tender pillow talk.
I close my eyes and try not to imagine Yukinoshita engaged in autoerotic activities...
Dammit. It's a lost cause.
My fantasies are interrupted after a little while.
"How would you like to refine your shoddy techniques, Hikigaya-kun?" Yukinoshita's voice is uncannily hesitant.
I comply with alacrity.
*
p.s. Inspired by the penultimate chapter of isko's SNAF U. While I generally skim through lemons, this one felt incredibly genuine, to use someone's cherished word. I could actually visualize it this time. The author has pictured their tryst the way it would most likely transpire given their eccentricities. It's fucking perfect, people. I snort everytime I picture a topless Yukinoshita getting disgusted by Hachiman's drooling face:D
On a more serious note, what's up with the pervasive breast-fetish in anime/manga culture? Ironic awareness is well and fine, but it would only take one so far. A subculture is one thing; getting a general audience inured to it is troublesome. I'm no SJW, but it grates on my nerves nonetheless. Okay. I will stop whining now.