.

.

She's sleeping when she feels it: an unsure hand brushing against her stomach.

A moment passes. Quietly she feels him shift behind her, the hand on her stomach caressing her with a firmer touch. She feels him lean her close, then press a feather-light kiss on the nape of her neck.

Chiyuki holds her breath. They've been doing this sort of thing for a while now, but Chiyuki's always been the one to initiate it. ("You know, you're allowed to," Chiyuki told him, but Decim just reddened and stammered that he would never want to trouble her.) She feels an obvious and growing arousal pressed up against her, and she grins, giddy as a school girl.

And then he stops. Chiyuki wants to yell at him to keep going, but she's curious to see how far he'll go.

So she doesn't move. Fingertips trail down the side of her waist and over her hip, and he's leaving small kisses into her hair.

Chiyuki shifts. It's impossible not to squeeze her thighs together, not to grab his hand and press it between her legs (which would undoubtedly mortify Decim, who would freeze and stop everything he's doing and just lie there, at least until she would sigh and shake her head, climbing on top of him), but she manages a modicum of self-control, steadies her breathing. She feels his hand move, making a hesitant trek up the side of her waist and over her breast; he hovers, then lightly circles her nipple over the fabric of her shirt.

Chiyuki quivers. She feels him shift her body closer to him - wow, he's really hard - and run his hand down from her breast back to her stomach, gently sliding between her legs. He kisses her shoulder, and she feels the pad of his middle finger pressing against her clit, stroking her over her panties.

He's getting good at this, Chiyuki thinks, and she closes her eyes, rocking her body against his touch. He's stroking her more firmly now, and as she arches into his hand, her body gives an involuntary jerk jerk, and Chiyuki inhales sharply.

The sound startles him. He snatches his hand away.

"I-I'm terribly sorry-"

"It's okay, I liked it. I was going to come." She turns around to face him. He's lying completely still now, keeping an embarrassed space between their bodies. Chiyuki kisses his cheek and cuddles against him, reassuringly. "I like it when you initiate this. You should do this more often."

"I did not mean to wake you," Decim says, and Chiyuki sighs hopelessly.

"Decim, I liked it."

"You were asleep. I am ashamed."

"Feel this," Chiyuki says, and she grabs his hand. "See how wet I am? My underwear is soaked."

"I'm terribly sorry," Decim says again. Chiyuki sighs and flops over, next to him.

"What are we going to do about this, then?" Chiyuki says, and she pointedly grips his erection over his pants.

"Please do not trouble yourself," Decim says. "It will go down momentarily."

He looks pretty ridiculous, lying stiff and straight with his erection poking out of the blanket. Chiyuki wants to laugh, but she knows it will hurt his feelings. "Can I ask you something?" Chiyuki says. She leans against his arm. "Did you ever get like this when you were an arbiter?"

"On occasion," Decim says. She brushes her thumb along the ridges of his hardness, thoughtfully.

"I guess that makes sense. You guys had to eat and use the bathroom." She remembers how Decim would bow and apologize before using the toilet, asking her to watch over the bar. "Did you ever masturbate?" she asks. She's tugging at the waistband of his pants.

"No," Decim says.

"Really?" Chiyuki says. "I guess that makes sense."

She frees his erection, which is hard and throbbing, a thin pearl of milky liquid beading up at the tip. She rubs her thumb along its head, spreading the wetness. "You're pretty hard," Chiyuki says.

"I'm terribly sorry," Decim says. She dips down and takes him into his mouth, hears him exhale, sharply.

He comes quicker than Chiyuki anticipates: a few sharp strokes of her mouth before he pulses suddenly; she makes a startled noise, swallowing quickly. Decim, for his part, seems mortified.

"Decim?"

"I-I'm terribly sorry. I did not mean to. I-"

Chiyuki cracks up. She laughs hard, hands on her belly and doubling over, as Decim looks at her, a parade of emotions on his face (embarrassment and mortification, mostly), and she allows him the dignity to pull up his pants.

"See? All you had to do is initiate." She leans against his chest, fondly. He rests his hand on her head.

"Would you like me to go down on you?" Decim says.

He always asks that question with full gravity and seriousness. Chiyuki grins and shakes her head.

"I'm okay. I think I need to change my panties, though."

"I'm terribly sorry."

She gives him a quick kiss and hops out of bed.

xXx

.

"I would like to initiate it," Decim says. Chiyuki raises her eyebrows.

"I would like to go down on you."

"I just changed my underwear," Chiyuki says, but she's smiling. He waits politely as she pulls off her shirt and undergarments, watching silently as she lies back on the bed, waiting for him.

Her body is fascinating to him. Her breasts are pleasantly soft, and he enjoys rolling her nipples with his thumbs. It's soothing to him, in fact. Like polishing a wine glass.

She's shifting her legs, and carefully Decim positions himself between her thighs. He takes a moment to study the wet pink slit in front of him. The nub of her clitoris. The soft pink folds. Gently he probes a finger into her vaginal opening and is pleased to feel its slippery wetness. When he pulls his finger out, there is a string of wetness that reminds him of one of his puppet wires.

"What are you looking at?" Chiyuki says. He lifts his eyes, sees her craning her neck to look at him.

"Oh. Forgive me, I was distracted." He leans in and gently mouths her clitoris. He hears her fall back, moaning softly.

She has a pleasant taste, salty and a little bitter, and as he gently sucks he notices how her clitoris hardens like a little nipple, growing pink and flushed.

She's rocking against his mouth. He takes that as a sign to press his tongue flat against her, pressing harder. Her breathing becomes more urgent. Taut. He feels her hand stroking his hair.

There is a series of strong, irregular contractions whenever she orgasms. It's interesting to him, watching her body arch and arch and arch until something snaps inside her, and she tips over into a paroxysm of rapid movement. Her stomach and hips jerk harshly, her head thrown back. Her mouth is open and slack as she orgasms, the top half of her body contracting forward. If she were a puppet, he would replicate the motion by pulling on a string once, twice, three times in rapid succession, waiting a moment, and then repeating it. An irregular staccato of movement. He watches until she falls back on the bed, panting quietly.

He delicately wipes off his mouth, then returns to his position on the bed. She feels warm when she leans into his arms.