Michiru looks absolutely delectable when she is talking to me about what she is passionate about. She loves music; she loves art; painting, to be more precise. I mean, I shouldn't be surprised she is doing a double major. But there are days like this one, where she keeps talking about the new techniques she learned in art class and how she wants to try them.

She had set up an armchair in the middle of the room, placed her canvas on her easel, and got her colors ready. And while I stared at her in adoring awe as she talked about the things she wanted to do, I couldn't help but look at her messy form. Finals were upon us, so being a bit all over the place was normal, but Mcihriu never looked messy. She always looked perfect with her luscious aqua-blue curls tied up in a high ponytail, with her paint-stained shirt, her ripped jeans. She was perfect— a goddess.

A goddess that curled her finger at me, asking me to come closer. And so I did. She removed my clothing silently as I watched her with adoring eyes. I took in how her fingers worked over my button blouse, how she brushed my shoulders and pushed it off my shoulders— how she tossed it aside as it was nothing. Then her hands were on my jeans, and she lifted her face to flash me that mischievous smile that sent me over the edge, that made me stop thinking altogether. Soon, I was completely naked before her, and she took a moment to admire my body. I don't blame her. If it were the other way around, I would've taken my time to admire her body too.

"Sit on the armchair." Her voice blew away the arousal that clouded my mind but just for a second. She guided me to the chair, and after I sat down, she moved my body until I was posing exactly how she wanted me to. I never complained. I was hers to do as she pleased.

She moved away from me and tilted her head as she gave me one final look. I was resting my chin on my knuckles, legs crossed. My free hand rested lazily on the armrest. She bit her lower lip as if studying me like her work of art. Then, her hands were on my hair, running her skilled fingers —oh, and they were very skilled— through my blonde strands until they were perfect.

Michiru took a step back one last time until she was happy with the way I looked.

"Stay still." She ordered, and I simply nodded at what she said. She walked back to her easel and sat down behind the canvas. She undid her hair and tied it again, making sure that the loose strands were away from her hair. She grabbed a thin brush, and the look she gave me was intense, electrifying even. She was so concentrated that I felt I would move just because of how nervous I got under her scrutinizing gaze.

"Haruka, you can breathe," Michiru said; her playful smirk made me exhale the breath I was holding. "When I say stay still I mean don't change position. You can breathe, you can blink."

"My nose is itchy…"

She laughed, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach about to leave through my mouth.

"Scratch it then." She said, her blue eyes jumping from the canvas to me, then the color palette, and back to me.

I rubbed my nose quickly, sniffed, and went back to my pose.

"Are you comfortable?"She asked.

Of course, I was. Well, not really. For some reason, the fact that I couldn't change my position made me want to do just that. I felt my leg start to bounce, and I saw Michiru's annoyed gaze turn to me.

"Haruka,"

"I know I know! I am trying not to move."

"Do you want to change into a more comfortable position? I can make a quick sketch and try that pose another time."

I sighed. I wanted to give Michiru the world, but I couldn't even give her a pose she would enjoy painting. I leaned back on the chair, defeated. Little did I know that my go-to comfortable position meant that my legs were spread out, bare for her hungry eyes.

"Or you could stay like that."

I froze then lifted my chin. Michiru was never one to hide her lust for me. She always looked at me as if she wanted to devour me right there and then, and right now, it was no surprise that she had decided to place her brush in a cup filled with water. She stood from her stool and slowly walked over to me.

Before I could react, she sat down on my lap, a cheeky grin on her lips. "I really want to paint a portrait of you."

I nodded, unable to form any words when the most beautiful woman I've ever seen was sitting so comfortably on my thighs.

"But I also want to eat you up."

I smiled smugly. "Decisions. Decisions." I tilted my head and, surprisingly, ran my hand through her hair, undoing her ponytail and watching the curls of blue hair spill over her shoulders and back. Unable to hold myself back, I dipped my face to hers and mashed our lips together. It was soft, tender, but a hint of playfulness drizzled over the gentle caress. My hands found the delicious sweet dip of her waist and held on tightly. She moaned against me, and her hands grabbed hairs on the back of my head as she pulled me down firmly, her lips parting under mine. I pulled away, just enough to see the effect of my kiss on her. Her eyes were hooded, darkened with lust, one hand held to my hair while the other squeezed my forearm. I sighed, bumped my nose with her cheek, and snuggled her closer before asking. "What do you really want to do Michiru?"

She gave me a sly smirk.

"You."