A/N: This chapter is super NSFW, and the end might be kind of disjointed because the last 500 or so words were written like a month or so after the earlier parts :/

She came to groggy, waking from a dream that left her more frustrated than well rested, but she was almost used to it now. Still, she felt so comfortable, nestling into the warmth that cradled her, as she tried to drive those thoughts from her mind. She shifted, the arms around her stomach gripping tighter, and her eyes shot open. Shit shit shit shit shit, she cursed silently, wondering how the hell she was going to escape this alive, as she she vividly recalled ordering him into bed with her.

The steady breathing behind her at least assured her that he was still asleep, so maybe there was a chance she could sneak away. That was probably a wrong thing to do, but especially after last night, and then waking up in his bed, with his arms around her... She absolutely, positively, one hundred percent, could not face him now. She could, however, steal just one, teeny, tiny peek at his sleeping face. He looked so peaceful that she couldn't help smiling, and immediately forced herself to stop once she realized she was. This was not good.

Slowly, carefully, she tried to pry off his arms, but he gave a soft, sleepy groan, and rolled closer to her. She froze, the hardness suddenly pressing against her serving as a strong reminder of just how frustrated she actually was, as the memory of him beneath her flooded her brain. Her mouth had gone dry, so much that she couldn't seem to produce any sounds from it, and there was probably no way he'd let go without waking up. She pressed her eyes shut tightly, released a breath through her nose, and reminded herself that she absolutely had to do this.

First, she considered yanking on his hair, and while he might've enjoyed that while conscious, it seemed unnecessarily inconsiderate under the circumstances. Reaching back with the arm not half underneath her, she tapped him tentatively on the shoulder. He responded by letting out a hum and nuzzling against her hair. Next she gripped his arm, trying not to enjoy the feel of the firm muscles beneath his smooth skin, before curling her fingers so that her nails pressed in.

This time he let out a little moan, his hips rocking into her, and the hands on her abdomen began to perilously shift. She squeezed her thighs together as firmly as she could, biting her lip hard and scratching him more forcefully. When she heard his breathing stop, and felt his body go stiff, she didn't know if she was more relieved or disappointed. After a moment, he loosened his hold on her and shifted his hips to the side, so that his erection was no longer rubbing against her.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, the words coiling through her like guilt.

He meant it, which made her feel like shit, because she wasn't sorry at all, even if she wasn't capable of admitting it to herself.

"Don't speak," she whispered, horrified at the words coming out of her own mouth, "unless you want to safe word out."

Was he losing his mind, and this was all just a delusion, or was he still asleep and dreaming? He couldn't think of any other explanation that made sense, because there was no way in hell any of of this would ever actually happen. His chest was so tight he couldn't breathe; his heart beating so fast he thought it might explode. She placed her hand over his, guiding it up to her breast, but surprise or fear kept him from moving. When she arched her back and pushed against him, he finally worked up the nerve to respond.

He gently squeezed, massaging with his fingers; eliciting a gasp when his thumb dragged across her nipple. Was this really happening? Was he actually fondling Mogami-san, his Mistress? She gripped his upper arm again, her nails biting harshly into his skin. He was throbbing, so hard it nearly ached, but he was frozen. How much, exactly, was he permitted to do? Without her command, any advance seemed like a liberty he wasn't right to take, but she told him not to speak.

Her hand snaked up his shoulder to his neck, before twisting into his hair and yanking hard. He growled, his control beginning to fray at the edges. Ignoring the stiffness in the arm she was lying on, he pulled her body flush to his. He should've been worried about taking things too far, but he was flustered enough to overcome his fear. She reacted immediately, rotating her hips to get a better angle, and grinding her ass against him. His eyes fluttered closed, a powerful pulse shooting through him, and he didn't notice his hand had stopped moving.

Once again she was forced to guide him, and his hips jerked involuntarily, when she directed his hand beneath the waistband of her pants. He ran his nose along the shell of her ear, scraping his teeth gently across the skin, as his fingers found her center. She was so wet he could've cum right then, and the urge to bite her neck was overwhelming. He rubbed two fingers over her clit and she bucked, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, to stifle the moans he desperately wanted to hear.

Did she know what she was doing to him? He was going crazy, the feel of her writhing against him so much better than in his fantasies, but was this really okay? He hooked his fingers and slid them inside her, thrusting up and in, as his thumb worked over her clit. Her hips rocked against him while he built her up, fighting his own completion, as her movements became increasingly sporadic. He sped up his pace, pushing into her harder and faster, until she cried out, unable to stifle the sound.

Her nails dug punishingly into his flesh and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his last shred of control from breaking. She panted, her legs shaking as she approached the edge, and her walls clenching around his fingers when she finally climaxed. He allowed himself to let go at last, groaning against her shoulder as he came, with his fingers still inside her. She lazily patted his arm and he collapsed against her, completely spent.

The little aftershocks tingled through her otherwise limp body, that his very clever fingers had just turned into a quivering mess . She should've cared, but she couldn't, too busy floating in a sea of marshmallow bliss. Drowning there would've suited her just fine, so that her brain was too made of mush to think. She could deal with the wrongness of it all later, if she absolutely had to, which she probably did, because she wasn't lucky enough for it to be a dream.

It was kind of a relief though, someone with his obvious experience probably had no trouble with casual, no-strings attached, pretend it never happened, can't tell anyone ever, sex. It was silly to worry that it meant anything to him. Even if he was holding her so affectionately that it made her uncomfortable, with his face buried in the crook of her neck. That didn't have to mean anything. It was entirely possible that he was just a cuddly sort of person. She really, really hoped he was, because if not, this disaster would end up being even bigger than it already was.

Should she try to excuse herself to the bathroom, or stay there, in his arms? After that performance, it seemed only fair to let him at least enjoy the afterglow, before fleeing from his apartment for dear life. Even if she was going further out of her mind with every passing minute, trapped by the heavy weight of his body on hers. At least until he started to stir, and she felt him hardening again, but there was no way she could... It would be wrong, wouldn't it? This was all a horrible mistake, she knew that, even if it felt fucking incredible.

She rolled her hips against him and felt his breath hitch, hot on her neck. One of his hands reached down to palm her ass, squeezing, as he pulled her closer into him and then spread her legs. She bit her lip as his hand dragged down to her knee, lifting her leg higher as he tilted his hips into her, so she could feel him pressing hard against her center. They hadn't even taken off their clothes yet, and she was already aching to have him inside her. She reached between them, trying to free him from his pants, when he stopped her.

"I don't have any condoms," he explained.

She hazarded a glance, looking at him for the first time since he'd woken up, completely incredulous.

"Are you serious?"

"It's been… a long time," he admitted quietly, was he blushing?

For me too, she thought, letting out a harsh breath. She couldn't possibly admit that to him though, lest things become even more intimate than they already were. Where exactly did that leave them then, and was he being honest with her? Someone like him, how was that possible, even with his trust issues. Not that she blamed him for that really, but maybe it wasn't such a stretch. Did that mean this did mean something? Was it wrong of her to hope it didn't, just because she was unable to handle those feelings?

"Should we stop?"

"Only if you want to," he breathed, tickling the skin behind her ear.

"I'm not… worried about me. I... didn't think that this was..."

"You don't have to worry," he assured her, "I'm well aware of what this is and what it isn't."

There was a hint of darkness in his tone, the words sounding like an indecent promise that she desperately wanted him to fulfill. Was he really okay with it, or was he just pretending to make her feel better? She didn't want to know, no matter how bad of a person it made her.

He wasn't stupid, he knew well that this was just physical, at least for her. That didn't stop her rejection from hurting like hell, a jagged blade twisting into his chest, but he'd known from the beginning that it was coming. She'd already given him far more than he could've hoped for, and he was grateful, even if the only thing she wanted was his body. It was better than nothing, he reasoned, eager to drown out the dissenting thoughts with the sounds she would make, when he made her cum a second time. Was she really willing to go further though, to allow him inside her?

"Hold on," he pleaded, grinding one more time against her center.

There was no way he could let go now, especially over something so small. Carefully setting her leg down, he reached for the nightstand and grabbed his phone. His fingers tapped furiously across the screen, as though mere seconds mattered, when he'd be lucky to wait less than half an hour. She didn't say a word, or even move, while he placed the order, and he hoped the moment wasn't broken. If this was all he could have, then he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

"Maybe we should stop."

He pressed his eyes shut and quietly let out a harsh breath. Making her leave terrified him more than anything, but how could he convince her to stay? Where was the limit, and how close was he to stepping over it?

"If you don't want this, I won't say another word, but if you're worried about me, you don't have to."

"I feel like I'm taking advantage," she admitted, pushing the knife in deeper.

"You're not," he insisted.

Was it his hesitation that gave her pause? It would've been easier to act if he wasn't so petrified of doing something wrong, and scaring her off. Worse still, was the risk of letting his feelings show. He didn't know the moves to this game, and trying to maintain a precarious balance left him questioning every step he took. Should he wait for her to act, giving him directions every time, or was he supposed to be more proactive?

He rolled over to face her, and she placed her palm against his chest to hold him back. No matter how much she wanted him, it was wrong, and she knew it. He didn't say anything, waiting for her to respond, but she was too much of a coward to speak. When she finally worked up the courage to look at him, hoping the excuse she needed would be written on his face, she realized she'd made a huge mistake. Before that moment, she'd never known an expression could be so sexually charged, his dark eyes burning into her soul and depriving her of reason.

Her pulse spiked, burning heat pooling in her belly and shooting straight between her legs. She wanted to turn away but she couldn't, as she tried and failed to stop the corners of her lips from curving upwards into a smirk. The fingers on his chest curled inwards, her nails pressing into his skin, and he smiled back at her like some kind of emperor of the night. That grin was obscene, holding back all the indecent promises ready to spill from his lips. Her thoughts raced with all the filthy things he could do to her, until she forgot why she was supposed to say no.

"Mistress," he whispered.

She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for some friction.

"Yes."

It was supposed to be a question, but it sounded more like a plea, her voice tiny. She'd have been embarrassed if she wasn't so worked up, but she couldn't think beyond the overwhelming need to touch him. Her nails left a trail of angry red marks as she dragged them down his body, stopping to play with the hem of his pants. His muscles tensed as she teased him, but he didn't move, waiting to see what she would do. That was how it worked right, she was supposed to take the lead? Except she wasn't Setsu right now, and Mogami Kyoko would never do this.

She wanted to go back to the position they were in before, where she could face away from him and not feel so exposed. Tilting her head to the side, she closed her eyes, and palmed him through the silky fabric. He pushed against her hand and she gently squeezed, as his nose traced a path up her neck. She should've fled right then, while she still had a chance, recoiling from the intimacy of his touch. He seemed to read her mind, his hand deftly working beneath her waistband, and tugging on the elastic.

"Mistress," he whispered against her skin. "May I taste you?"

She bit her lip, eyes still closed, and nodded after a moment's deliberation. She lifted her hips so he could pull her pants down, and he tried not to notice how she kept refusing to look at him. Still, he was damned already anyway, and she was really letting him do this, so he'd use the opportunity to the best of his advantage. If he could satisfy her enough to where she'd desire his touch, then maybe he could hold onto her a little longer. That slim hope was all that kept him going.

He dragged the fabric slowly down her legs, chuckling to himself as she fidgeted in frustrated impatience. The pants he discarded, as he grabbed beneath her knees, and pulled her forcefully to the edge of the bed. She tensed, jumping slightly in surprise, before he pushed her legs apart. His heart beat furiously, as he towed perilously close to crossing the line, and he knew he had to act without having a chance to properly admire her. There was no taking things slowly now, not when it meant giving her an opportunity to change her mind.

She looked so beautiful splayed out before him, squirming as his lips grazed her inner thigh. He smiled to himself, before licking a path up her center. She wriggled, moaning softly, and tried to stifle the sound with that obtrusive hand of hers. He parted her lips wide with his fingers, licking once more before slipping his tongue inside her. Her hips bucked against each little thrust, and he lost himself in the perfect taste of her, until she was practically fucking his face..

He could never tell her exactly how much she affected him, because he'd definitely lose her forever. Part of him wished his name would pass her lips in a moment of ecstasy, but what would it matter, the name that wasn't really his? Even now doubt was clawing at his mind, and he thrust harder, his tongue working faster, desperately hoping the sounds she made would drown out the intrusive thoughts that were always trying to bury him alive.

She whimpered when his tongue slid out to flick her clit, and moaned loudly when he sucked it into his mouth. Two fingers slid easily inside her, moving increasingly harder and faster, as his tongue worked against her clit. She could feel his eyes, fixed on her face, but she wasn't brave enough to meet them. It was so much easier to just pretend; to give into the pleasure he gave her, as her back arched and her fists bunched into the sheets. He overtook all her senses, and she felt like she was drowning in the frenetic atmosphere, her whole body trembling.

It didn't matter that it was wrong or selfish or even unprofessional. His fingers and his mouth had taken over all her senses, and she couldn't hold on much longer. The sensation was almost too much, too strong, but she couldn't fight it. She found herself completely lost in the overwhelming pressure, building her up higher and higher, heedless of the indecent sounds spilling from her mouth. He set her nerves on fire, tingling all over, until she suddenly tensed before everything exploded inside her.

It felt like she was floating, her every molecule made of air, weightless. Her eyes fluttered shut in sweet and perfect surrender, the kisses pressed to her ankle barely registering as her thoughts all drifted helplessly away. She lied there, blissful, the world too far away to interfere, while she basked in the afterglow. Consequences? She couldn't have possibly cared less right then. None of it mattered. The sound of the doorbell, and his assurance that he'd be right back, none of it could reach her. She hadn't yet returned to earth, and she never wanted to.

A/N: I apologize profusely for the wait. I've been under a mountain of stress, and it's given me horrible writer's block. Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things soon. Infinite thanks to Daamile for all her help and support, and thank you everyone for reading! 3