A/N: Hello! So, heads up, smut and fluff in this one chapter! Be warned: either you will squirm at the smut or you will drown in fluff.

Chapter 6: Baby and Polka

iMessage

M: You still up for studying together?

N: Of course. 12, in the quad, right?

M: Yeah. I'm ready, so I'm going to head over there now. See you soon

N: I'm already here. By the way, it's chilly. Dress warmly

The weather was getting unpredictable – out of nowhere and unexpectedly dark clouds would gather, to then pour, to then disappear, leaving sunny skies in its wake. And on that Saturday, Mikan and Natsume had plans to study outside together, both having a lot of work. But not even ten minutes after they had opened their books on the outdoor picnic tables, the rain came tumbling down.

"Shit," Natsume gathered his notebook in his bag, quickly so no pages would get wrinkled. "Library?"

Mikan groaned, as she stuffed everything in her bag. "You know I hate the library. Let's just go back to yours. We can study there."

They stood up. Mikan assumed Natsume would heartily agree to her suggestion, but to her surprise, he countered back, "Why don't we go to yours for once? You always come to mine. I've never been to yours yet."

This was true. Every time, they met at Natsume's; Mikan had never extended an invitation to her room. And at his proposal, she seemed slightly reluctant. She kept opening and closing her mouth, unsure of what to say. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide – it was just that she always preferred sharing other people's beds, rather than her own.

Natsume cajoled her, "Come on, it's unfair that my sheets always get dirty. Do you know how much I've spent on washing these past few weeks? … Come on," he was using his bedroom voice, low and pleading, "let's go get your sheets dirty for once."

Mikan sighed. But then, "Fine," she agreed, with a slight smile, "but before you befoul my sheets, we're going to study. I really need to get this done. Come on, let's go. This way…"

He eagerly nodded, promising to be good. He didn't quite show the extent of his excitement as he walked besides her, following her quick steps. He felt fifteen again – he felt the same way he did as when he got invited back to a girl's bedroom for the first time.

The rain was pounding down now, and their quick steps soon upgraded to runs: shielding their heads with their bags, they dashed through Ali-U's campus.

"Here, here," Mikan called, grabbing Natsume's arm, as he nearly missed the corner, "over here."

They weren't drenched, but they weren't dry either. Mikan fumbled with her key, but soon enough, she opened the door to her small and comfortable room, and they both entered, escaping from the relentless rain. Mikan sighed in relief as she turned on the lights, dropping her bag to the floor. Natsume took his shoes off, before he looked up to inspect her room. It was neither the messiest nor the cleanest room he had ever been in – paper littered her desk, but no rubbish resided on the floor. Make-up and hair-ties was sprawled in front of a small mirror. Her perfume rested on her beside table, next to her reading glasses. Here lived Mikan's habits and quotidian lifestyle, in her sweet-smelling room.

He liked her room more than he liked his own room. But he would never admit that; instead, he simply commented, "It smells nice in here."

"It's probably all my diffusers," Mikan answered distractedly – she was currently struggling to pull her boots off her feet, "I'm slightly obsessed. I've got so many."

"You should give me one to put in my room." Natsume casually suggested, as he took his jacket off, hanging it on the door-knob. "That'll stop you bitching about my 'pungent aftershave', was it?"

"It is pungent—oof!" She stumbled slightly after pulling her boots too hard, making her lose balance. Automatically, she grabbed Natsume to stabilize herself, and he grasped her hand to secure her.

"You alright?"

Her boots popped off. "Aha!" she jubilantly cried. "There we go. Thanks." She stepped into her flat, pulling her coat off. "Make yourself at home."

"Do you have a towel?" Natsume asked. "I'm kind of wet."

Mikan shrugged, and to Natsume's surprise (but mostly to his delight), he saw Mikan pull her wet top off her. "Just take your clothes off. I'm studying in bed." As if to illustrate her point, with her folder in one hand, and her other hand tugging her jeans off, she fumbled her way towards her bed. In her bra and underwear, she got into the covers, comfortably nestled in, before placing her work on her lap.

Noticing he didn't follow, she said, "Oh? Would you rather study on the desk? I'll get you a towel—"

"No, no," Natsume pulled his jumper and t-shirt off in one swift motion, and once he had stripped down to his boxers, he slid into bed besides Mikan, with his work in his hand. Her bed was soft and clean. "Perfectly happy here."

She smiled. "Good. Let me know if you want something to drink later on." She then picked up her reading glasses from her bedside table, preparing for her study session. Soon enough, her eyes were gazing at her notes, her breathing steady, as she fell into a studious silence.

But Natsume couldn't throw himself into his work as successfully. He kept on glancing at her, hoping that he would catch her staring at him. But she didn't – her eyes remained firmly on her notes. After five minutes, his restraint snapped, and he voiced out, "You're asking a lot of me, you know."

"Hmm?" she absent-mindedly hummed.

"How on earth am I supposed to study with you half naked in bed? … With your leg on my leg?" On cue, he nudged his leg against her's, rubbing their skin together.

He felt victorious when she looked up from her work; he adored the sight of her in her glasses, with that slightly annoyed crease between her brows. "You're also half-naked but I can study perfectly fine."

It was time to use his bedroom voice. "Mikan…" he edged closer to her, "can't we study after we—"

"No." Her voice and tone was firm. "Natsume, I told you I needed to study! If you can't start thinking with the right head in the next five minutes, leave. Leave me to study alone, and I'll see you later."

Her words dismantled his libido. It was his turn to frown. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave Mikan's room (he had just discovered it!), but he couldn't help but feeling grumpy at her words. Petulantly, he shifted his leg away from her, before he mumbled childishly, "I'm not leaving."

"Good. Because I don't want you to leave." His scowl waned at these words, and he had to press his lips together to stop himself from grinning when Mikan nestled her head comfortably on his bare arm. "Now study."

After an hour and a half of successful studying in her bed, Mikan yawned, then stretched her arms out. With a groggy groan, she pulled the covers off her and stood up from her bed. "I'm making tea. Do you want some?"

Reading Spenser for an hour completely sobered Natsume up. The right head was definitely in control at this point. "Hmm?" He didn't quite hear her question – some knotty few lines preoccupied him. He looked up abruptly. "Sorry, what?"

"Tea? Do you want some tea?"

"Oh. Yeah, thanks."

Soon, she came back with two cups, and handed a steaming cup to Natsume. "Thanks."

Feeling a little hot, Mikan climbed back into bed, but instead of burrowing herself in the covers, she lay on top of her duvet on her back. She had finished all her work for the day – she glanced at Natsume; he was still studying, so she just comfortably waited for him to be done with his work. Her eyes lazily shut. Knowing that it was raining outside whilst she was inside, toasty warm, comfortable on a bed with Natsume made her feel serene.

But then, next to her, she felt Natsume abruptly spring off the bed, cursing, "Shit."

"What?" She peeked her eyes open to see what was wrong.

He was rummaging through his bag. "I…" he didn't say anything, too focused on trying to find what he was looking for, "…I have to write a poem… for our meeting." He finally pulled out a pen and a thin notepad.

Mikan shut her eyes again – she had thought that he had spilled his tea on her bed. She felt him climb back on the bed. "Surely if you have to write a poem, it goes against the conventional spontaneity of poetry?"

"Not necessarily. I mean, Shakespeare wrote most of his sonnets for his patrons. He was paid to write them. It wasn't like he just strolled out one day and decided to write about a good-looking Earl. Besides, our meeting is in two days. I don't have time to write a short story… so poetry it is."

"What are you going to write about? The rain?" She could still hear the pounding rain pour outside her window. It was therapeutic, especially when he eyes were closed, her world black, but the sound constant.

"I'd never write about the weather." Natsume snorted, in mirth. "Besides, I thought we hate small-talk. We don't talk about the weather, remember? We're big-talkers."

Mikan laughed lightly. But then, she gave an unattractive 'oof', for Natsume had just unexpectedly placed his notebook on her lower stomach. Her eyes flew open, and she examined him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable. Getting inspired." He grinned at her. He was now crawling his way to her.

His notebook stay rested on her stomach, but he had moved himself so that he was currently positioned between her legs. While she was on her back, he lying on his front. They had been in this position many times before, but this time, Natsume was holding his pen instead of kissing her between her legs. Natsume was simply using Mikan's stomach as a desk – he rested his chin above her panty-line, and she watched incredulously as he started to scribble out a poem upon her stomach. She could feel the pen scratching the shaking paper on her stomach. She could also feel his warm breath by her belly button. She wondered briefly whether he was comfortable, and so opened her legs to give him more space. He burrowed himself appreciatively in response.

She let him write for a few minutes in comfortable silence.

Then, she nudged him with her foot. "What are you writing about?"

"I'm writing," he then glanced up at her with a wolfish smile, "about your cunt."

Her abs did more work than they had in years after hearing that: her torso lifted off the bed quickly, as she cried, "What!" She gasped, glancing down at Natsume, who was now pulling himself up on his knees, kneeling in front of her on the bed. "You are not!"

He laughed, before grabbing her, pulling her back down to the bed with him. He rested her back on his torso, and lifting the notebook up, he showed her the page as he read his incomplete poem out loud:

"I drill, I dig,
Fast and steady
To find the spot that will make the cave groan and heave.
I seek treasure; treasure that spills
I drill and dig to find the fountain of life.

The sweet land of Milk and Honey
Was just a wet, wet valley.

And when that spot is found,
The cave imitates the Shakespearian Rag
O O O O
Before the final elongated cry
Before the gushing liberation of the treasure

The sweet land of Milk and Honey
Is just a wet, wet valley.

Sometimes I feel like I'm going to drown in Milk and Honey,
But surely there is no death sweeter.

… it's still a work in progress." Natsume grinned down at her, only to snicker at her incredulous expression.

Mikan gaped at the words. Her voice found her sooner rather than later, however. "You cannot show that to your friends!" She then pulled herself forward, so she could point an accusatory finger at the title that Natsume had scribbled at the top of the page. "'Mikan's Cunt'? No, no! Change the title!"

"I can't. It's about your cunt, after all."

"No, no!" She whined. "Just call it Cunt then!"

"It's not just a cunt. It's your cunt."

She cried, "Agh! I can't believe you're comparing my cunt to a cave. And called it a wet valley. … And I hate milk. You're putting me off my own vagina!" Natsume laughed heartily at this. She continued, "But even worse, this one dirty poem will traumatize your Literary Club—"

"Nonsense," Natsume nonchalantly replied, smirking slightly, "they'll all be salivating at the thought of your wet cunt." But then he frowned, and added as an afterthought (in that same wisecrack voice), "Hopefully not Persona. Bit of a gross thought…"

Her face scrunched up in disgust. "You're gross," she refuted, as she struggled to break free from his tight hold, in attempt to grab and destroy the poem, "your friends are never going to look at me the same again! When they see me, they're only going to think of milk and honey!"

"Nonsense," he said again, "anyway, everyone already knows that you're regularly sleeping with me. You're already tainted by association." he joked, now pressing his cheek against hers. After she sniffed distastefully in response, smiling, Natsume trailed his lips up to her ear to murmur, "Besides, you love that I love your cunt."

She was still held against his chest, and she watched as he placed his smutty poem on her bedside table. She was still eyeing it disapprovingly when she suddenly felt Natsume's hand trace its way down her stomach, straight to her underwear. Her attention diverged as a result – looking away from the offending poem, she now gazed up at him, and saw that he was smiling mischievously at her.

She knew exactly what that mischievous smile meant: he was about to remind her how much he loved her cunt, and consequently, how much she loved that he loved her cunt.

And when his fingers tickled their way down from her pelvic bone, down, down, Mikan heavily closed her eyes and sighed contently. Her body reacted by opening her legs for his wandering fingers.

His fingers pressed against her underwear as he languidly stroking them across the silky material. Up and down, up and down… Mikan could only mewl appreciatively in response, curling her back like cat, throwing her head deeper against Natsume's shoulder. She now moved her hips, in a desperate effort to shift his firm fingers towards her clit, but he purposefully did not touch her there (not yet, at least).

Her head started to thrash, and her hair brushed against his face. Automatically, his lips kissed her hair softly, repeatedly, as he continued touching her below.

He felt the effects soon enough: the fingers pressed against her silk underwear detected a hot stickiness beginning to stir from beneath. She was wet; it was time.

His fingers suddenly retreated, and her eyes snapped open. She felt confused and sluggish as he suddenly shifted his position. "Natsume," she called, but he softly shushed her, as he moved away from her. She was no longer lying on his chest, but instead lying on her own bed, as Natsume now made his way down her body.

Mikan moaned as he peeled her dampened underwear off her. "Natsume…"

She knew what he was planning to do when he spread her legs apart and bite her inner thighs. She loved it when he gripped her thighs like that. She loved it when he placed her legs on his broad shoulders. He loved it when her legs pressed pleadingly against his shoulders and back.

He breathed hotly against her cunt; she moaned in anticipation.

Natsume licked his lips before his mouth sucked her cunt, as he trailed his tongue heavily and hotly against her sex, up and up, exploring every fold, feeling the heat against his tongue, licking his way up towards her clit. Her moans soon became cries: "Ah, ah, ah! Natsume!"

Her eyes were closed tightly and her hands, which were previously gripping her sheets, now found themselves gripping Natsume's hair. Desperate to feel more, desperate to be closer to him, she pushed his face deeper against her.

It was Natsume's turn to groan; he groaned against her wetness. There was no space to breathe, but ironically, he never felt more alive. He gripped her thighs tighter in response, wordlessly telling her that he wanted to be close to her too, as he passionately continued to suck and lick her cunt and clit.

Mikan's breathing was become more shallow and frequent, and she started to buck slowly and steadily against Natsume's face rhythmically. Her body felt as if it was humming, whilst her mind was buzzing. With Natsume, she could forget everything: he made her feel as if she was the centre of the universe, as if she was the only thing existing. It was as if he made her see colours that only existed in a different dimension – colours were bursting in her mind as she focused solely on the way she felt (the way Natsume made her feel).

He was right: she did love the fact that he loved her cunt, and when she hazily opened her eyes to gaze down at Natsume, she felt all of a sudden incredibly emotional. She felt as if her heart was going to burst… maybe even cry or sob. She couldn't even see his face, but just seeing her fingers entangled within his black hair made her heart sob.

His tongue stopped roaming and entered her centre. Mikan screamed, throwing her head back in her pillow, and the gentle bucking of her hips now become frantic. Natsume darted his tongue around, exploring her insides, tasting her. She was hot and tight; it was hard to maneuver his tongue skillfully inside, so he just continued to stretch and push his tongue as far as it would go.

"Oh, oh, ohhh, oh God, Natsume!" Mikan moaned, and moaned some more, "Ah, ah, ahhh!" Every thrust of his tongue made her cry. Her face was completely flushed: she was so hot, molten even, and she felt the first spasm shake her, signaling that her orgasm was close. "Natsume, Natsume," she breathed breathily, clutching his hair, "I'm going to come, Natsu—mmm—ahhh!"

She couldn't finish her sentence – words seemed impossible for her, as Natsume pulled his tongue out, only to replace his warm, wet tongue with two rigid, strong and long fingers. His fingers stretched into her deeper and harder, making her scream, and he pumped his fingers in and out of her feverishly. Her grinding hips made her bed squeak and thud against the floor as he fingered her hard.

"Deeper, deeper, please, please," Mikan chanted hoarsely, then crying, "ah!" She cried not only because he listened to her pleas, but also because Natsume's tongue was now stimulating her clit; his soft tongue pulsed against her clit whilst his stiff fingers pushed deeper, so that they were knuckle deep.

The two combined sensations brought about Natsume incessant fingers and tongue made Mikan come almost immediately: her back arched off her bed whilst she tossed her head back, embedding it in her pillow. "Oh, Natsume! Mmm!" She panted heavily as her treasure spilled. She kept calling out his name, feeling infinite.

Natsume pulled his fingers out of her, allowing the treasure to seep. After he kissed her clit one last time, he shifted down slightly so he could suck up and lick her release. His tongue lapped against her swollen, quivering folds. He listened carefully to her labored pants that were accompanied so sweetly to the wet sounds his tongue made against her. It was perfect harmony.

Mikan had seen bright, beautiful colours when she came. Now that was descending from euphoria, the colours were melting away into darkness. She slowly opened her eyes, and out of the darkness came Natsume's face. His body was crawling up to her, and she opened her arms to welcome him back up. Mikan pulled him into her arms, letting his weight crush her. She laughed from underneath him. He laughed too, but soon shifted so they now faced each other in her bed.

She kissed him, before nipping his lips, pulling at it tenderly with her own lips. He kept his lips passive, as he just watched her play.

Natsume had gotten hard when he gave her head, but now, the fire in his loins was put out; instead, it was his chest that burned. It burned so painfully and weightily as he gazed down at her, watching her kiss him so sweetly.

He groped for the blanket before pulling it over them.

Mikan raised her eyebrows. "Done already?" Her voice was soft. "I thought you were planning to dirty my sheets."

His voice was just as soft. "Let's just… you know," It was as if they were whispering to each other – a complete reversal to the earlier moans and cries that echoed in her room; now they wanted to keep their conversation between themselves.

"Cuddle?" she offered.

He nodded.

She smiled warmly at him as her hand began to caress his back, drawing wispy and gossamer patterns with her nails. "You're really good at that." She said, clearly referring to his earlier activities below.

He didn't respond; instead, he simply gazed at her as his own hand began to stroke the hair close to her ear.

"What's the matter?" Mikan gently questioned. "Where's your usual boasting? Your snarky 'I may not be a doctor, but I'm an expert on human anatomy' comments?"

Natsume shrugged, still stroking her hair.

Mikan now looked marginally concerned by his lack of verbal responses. Words, after all, were his specialty. She stopped stroking his back, and pulled herself up slightly. "Are you okay? … Did I make you do something you didn't want to do?"

He pulled her back down, before pressing her face and body against his chest entirely. He thought he felt her heart beat when he hugged her, but he was unsure whether it was just his own heart. Maybe both – he couldn't tell anymore. "Don't be silly. Of course not." he reassured her, "I'm okay. I promise."

He just didn't have much to say. Because words were failing him. Because words could not possibly truthfully convey how he was feeling. Because words suddenly seemed paled to his feelings.

"I'm fine," he promised again, as he saw her peek up at him, curiously and dubiously, "I… I just want to do this."

"Cuddle?"

"Yes, cuddle."

She smiled. "Alright, baby…"

"Baby?" He was surprised – pleasantly so. Was 'baby' to be his pet name? He felt his ears heat up.

"As in baby. Like babies. Like a small human that cries like 'waaah-waahh!' when it wants food or attention."

Natsume's hot ears turned cold. "You think I'm like a baby?"

She heard his disappointed tone. Usually she would have replied with a witty and cheeky one-liner in response. But right then, despite his promises, Natsume didn't seem to be entirely fine to her. It's no fun being witty when your partner isn't feeling witty. Deciding that this was not the time to display her wit, Mikan kindly replied. "Babies are cute. You're cute." But she saw this was not to response he wanted. She tried a different, more intimate tactic, "… I think it's a good pet name for you. … If you're into that sort of thing?"

For the first time in a long time, Mikan felt vulnerable. Some part of her immediately regretted her words, but another part of her held its breath as she waited for Natsume's response.

"Okay," he agreed (she exhaled, feeling both jittery and relieved), "what… what do you want me to call you?"

"Considering I chose yours, I think it's only fair you choose mine. But choose wisely!"

He gazed down at her, seeing how she was pressed against him, her eyes looking up at him nervously. This was new for them: they had never been shy or nervous around each other previously, no matter what they did, but now, as they simply cuddled, both were scared of saying the wrong thing.

Natsume stroked her hair, cradling her. "You're Polka-Dots."

"Polka-Dots?"

"Polka for short."

She seemed confused. "Do I remind you of Minnie Mouse or something?"

He laughed. "No. I'm paying homage to our first night."

Mikan remembered her polka-dotted underwear. "Trust you to come up with a unique pet name that's both perverted and sweet."

He was tentative. "Is that a yes or a—"

"Yes!" Mikan interrupted quickly, not wanting to hurt him. "I won't mind being called Polka by you. It's… personal. I like that." It felt strange to have to constantly reassure Natsume, as he was usually confident with his words. She could tell something was bothering him, and wondered what made him doubt his own words.

(Little did she know that Natsume had simply just realized that he loved her cunt because he loved her and everything about her. He loved her. He loved her.)

"Spend the night here with me, please?"

"Of course, Polka."

A/N: No individual review-replies today, I'm sorry! But thank you so much to the wonderful quartet who did review! I appreciate it so much.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Will try to update asap.