Cheers to an update!

This didn't turn out as good as I wanted to, mainly because I tried to pick up where they left of last chapter, so I think I'll be using the same concept again soon.

I don't own Shugo Chara

Chapter 7: Cravings

Must be the alcohol

That was my only diagnosis, because there were no other reason why Rima would be acting weird and in a hyperactive way, aside from the fact that she is Rima Mashiro – a weird, pretty little girl made up of hyperactive energy, but displays refined lady-like mannerisms.

I feared crossing the line with her a few minutes ago, seeing as there was virtually no functioning reason in my head and the little voice called conscience was already asleep. Add this to the fact that, as she straddled my belly all I was seeing was her fluffy, newly bathe hair on top of nothing to cover the rest of her body – petite, pale, and fresh – I was looking at her like she's freshly baked crème puff. And as she spoke her complaints about her heart racing and mind too awake, all my mind could hear were animalistic mewls and moans which sickened and excited me at the same time.

No, those details weren't really accurate. Like I said, my mind was blank, and it took Rima her own awareness to come to the realization that it was the only thing void of any decent response. The rest of me, more specifically the lower part of me, did make a response albeit a very indecent one. I was rewarded with a very powerful slap. It rattled my brain, but it woke me completely. It hardly did anything to my, ahem, 'response', but it made me aware of the dangerous situation we were in.

"It's an involuntary, muscular response. I'm a healthy boy, after all." I said, feeling the burn on my face, while appreciating hers which was equally aflame under a blush of her own.

I forced her to look at me through a simple, sly, and surreal smile that always renders her to my whim when she is taken off guard. And right now, the embarrassment of feeling someone get excited because of her has completely worn down that guard. I licked my lips and sharpened my gaze into hers. I couldn't control my own blush, nor the race of my own heart. There'd be no point in that, seeing as she has picked up the momentum and would surely dislike backing out of it.

She lowered her head, lowered, and lowered – until the golden sea of glistening honey that is her hair was dangling beside my face, tickling my skin and enveloping my sense of smell with her delicate scent. Our noses touched, our eyes fluttered to a near close, our hands with their own business – mine encircling her belly like it was a small, bubbly cushion, hers raking through the spread of my blue hair.

I always fancied her fetish for my straight hair. It wasn't envy or the like of it, but when she runs her fingers through the strands of my hair her breathing suddenly gets heavy, her eyes deviated with a certain husk. As for me, her entire body, her entire SELF is my fetish. Like a tingling tease that makes me want to do things I wouldn't normally or consciously do with anyone else. Her tummy, in particular – not some sort of a perverted object that gets me sexually motivated like an animal, but her tummy is so small, so slim and so curvy and so soft – like marshmallows.

Goodness! Every bit of Rima makes me think of food. Even her lips looked like two strips of cherry lickerish flattened moist and pink.

Just when she has been thoroughly distracted with my hair, I leaned up and licked her lips. Not an overbearing act, but a simple touch of the tip of my tongue on the soft arc of her upper lip. As I savored the familiar taste, her eyes turned narrow indicating an annoyance being built. She didn't seem to like what I did, but I liked the fact that she didn't like it, so I slurped up from her chin up to the tip of her nose.

I think I heard her growl because of that – the kind of growl you hear from a kitten when it's arguing with its reflection on a mirror. Pushing her buttons doesn't always end with unsavory results – sometimes it makes her annoyed, insulted, and dared. The risk is still there- take the hard slap for instance. But the aftermath further on would give me a Rima that says 'You think I can't do as much?'

"You think I can't do as much?" she asked, converting my smile into a smirk. She didn't like that either.

I was about to say something, like I could read her perfectly well or I just did that to tease her, when she suddenly dived down and started nibbling on my ear. No, not nibbling – she was sucking on the arc of my ear. I immediately stiffened, gasped with suppressed breath and suddenly tightened my hold of her. This kind of result I'm not yet sure if I should consider it savory or not.

"Rima-chan!" I groaned, feeling a set of teeth contribute to the tormenting pleasure.

"What?" she sat up and asked as if nothing was going on, and as if my insides wasn't being ripped by such sensation.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have licked you." I said after clearing my voice and taking my breath back. But she paid on heed in that, and just went back on the side of my head. My vision got covered by the yellow, curly strings that is her doll-like hair, but it didn't matter. Had my line of sight been clear, I wouldn't have been able to make good use of my senses. The feel of her wet, squiggling tongue probing inside of me was explosive. It numbs everything, other than the awareness that if feels incredibly erotic.

The grip I had on her was turning rather tight. I wasn't sure if she was already feeling the pain, but I decided that I can't have her go on – because other than my mind, something else might decide to explode, and I'm not so sure if I can tolerate this anymore than I can tolerate seeing her naked without getting naughty. My breathless, broken self tilted his head in an attempt to make her stop. She did, and when she returned sitting up on me, she knew she had me.

"That was – mean." I said, shaking my head and squinting my eyes to recover from that. When I came through, Rima has leaned down on me once again, forcing away my hand and staring me down like I was something to be either kicked, or devoured.

I went back to the original concern which is her unsleeping state. How the hell do I put Rima to sleep? I couldn't even move a muscle, I couldn't argue, and I couldn't think straight enough to convince her to just lay beside me and count a thousand reasons why Amu and I shouldn't be a couple. That'll either force her to sleep, or force her to kill me.

"I AM mean. That's how much I like you." She leaned up and trailed her tongue up from the tip of my chin to the plain of my cheek. "You're the only one I can be mean to."

"Can't you be mean to me in the morning? We have school tomorrow."

"I know. That's why I want to sleep."

"Why don't you just lay back and stare at me. People always say I look dreamy."

The bored, uninterested look flipped the joke inside out, making me realize the authority that Rima holds in the comic category. I tried to match the look on her face, but she was too fun to watch, that my forced grimace gradually curved up into a goofy grin. She regarded me with a much fouler facial expression, but I knew her annoyance had a limit, especially when she's leaning her elbows on my chest and looking at me this close.

She stuck out her tongue at me when she could no longer put up such a face. The moment I saw that wiggly thing that was tormenting me a while ago, I felt another twist inside my gut. A craving followed, and then an unknown surge of warmth covering first my stomach, then going up to my chest.

I suddenly had this strong urge to kiss her, and kiss her I did, just when she was about to retract her tongue. My timing was precise, and before she could do anything about it, she was returning the kiss. It wasn't really a normally, lips to lips kind of kiss. At a glance one might even call it messy and rather unrefined – that was because we were simply gliding our tongues on each other, unmindful of the spit and goo flinging all over the place while be battled out who has a more flexible flesh.

The way her tongue moves is incredible. Although it's hardly something you'd hear as a description, she glazes with such ease and agility that I just couldn't keep up. Perhaps because I wasn't really focusing on overpowering her with such act. All I could think of was her name, her taste, and this urge inside of me that was weighing me down, and at the same time pushing me to consume her.

There was no point in playing this game. Her mind was obviously preoccupied with excitement, as reflected by the dark husk in her eyes and a completely red pair of cheeks. I summoned enough feeble strength to grab her face, push the kiss further in and clasped our lips with rough force. She groaned, complaining due to the momentum she was in that I just broke. Amidst sucking on her bottom lip I managed to form another smirk.

My body was quickly gaining some strength, like I was sucking life force from Rima. If I was, she doesn't seem to be diminishing of it. With every second our heads were grinding on each other, she was getting more and more aggressive. We've never kissed like this before. We've never been in one bed before. And for certain, we've never done more than what would otherwise be deemed sick, or psychotic.

But her small body was simply begging for my hands to touch, to examine, to grope. Her taste, her flavor, reminiscent of that glorious accident with the ice cream in the park, make me scavenge her mouth deeper, as if scouring for a meal.

God, she's so thin

Underneath the soft fabric of her night dress I could still feel her body. Surprised she was letting me touch her like this. I normally get a slap or a glare when I put an arm around her waist or just slap her butt for sheer fun. A greater surprise when I felt not pointy, bony torso, but remarkably firm flesh. She is indeed thin, but she's not as skinny as I thought. Clown Drop surely gives herself quite the exercise to have such a nice build. Further up her back my hand crawled, expecting to feel protruding ribs normal for a growing teen. But no – even her back, curved to a deep stretch in the middle, felt wonderfully lean and formed.

Rima Mashiro felt like 5% bone, and 95% muscle. I could not even trace a single part of her worth calling 'fat'. Normally people have this spot in the middle of their belly everytime they sit, or if it constricts, but even that felt like it had a thorough layer of abs waiting to be processed. The only soft part about her is her skin. It's fair and smooth, nicely cushioning my touch, but underneath, everything else is well built.

I can't wait for her growth spurt.

The second she turned my ear into a lollipop moments ago I was already excited. But I can't but be even more thrilled after feeling her body like this. We're looking at a fashion model here, and the outer wrapping of her insanely cute appearance creates the delusion of a fragile child. Yet Rima is everything but fragile. She is one tough meat, one that I would gladly chew in every means necessary until she's nothing but a softened, wet bloob waiting to be swallowed – in a loving way of course.

Other than the heavy gasps for air both of us were doing, we heard another sound. She gently pulled away after hearing an impolite grumble of something, and looked at me closely. We gave it a few more seconds, and then heard it again.

"Have we had dinner yet?" she asked.

I blinked at her a couple of times, then realized the obvious – we most certainly have not. The sudden turn around of our date in the park made me forget about dinner, not that it was part of my plan in the first place. Good thing my body has its own way of conveying a message. The thought of food coinciding with my appreciation of every bit and piece of her pushed the button to signal an empty gas tank.

"I don't think so." I said with a quirky smirk, knowing full well that it was my job to feed my girl. Technically we were eating each other up, so I suppose that puts me off the hook.

We were quick to deviate from our heated enterprise, and she was even quicker to jump out of bed and rummage through my closet.

"Looking for?" I asked her while I was still struggling to get up. Hunger gave me enough energy to straighten my mind out, not necessarily to revive all of my muscles. I still felt terribly heavy.

When she didn't bother answering my question, I assumed that she at least what it is she was intending to find. What she intended to do with whatever she was to find is another story. If she was looking for porn mags, I would gladly say I never needed them. As perverted as I am at times, I do enjoy a certain doze sobriety which more or less separates me from the rest of my fellow males.

"Can you turn on the lights for me?" she asked, still not with the item in search. I snapped a few bones on my shoulders and my elbow and lazily walked towards the switch. The light filled the room and stung my eyes a bit. When I came through, I saw her pulling down her bottom.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" I asked, a bit alarmed. All of a sudden, her stripping in front of me was a big deal. There's not much there I haven't seen, but still – having a girl remove her clothes in my room is a bit unbecoming. Besides, seeing a girl like Rima butt naked doesn't necessarily excite me as much as it triggers my appreciation of her. It's amazing how eroticism and aesthetics often go hand in hand.

"I'm want to cook." She said in that small voice. "Teach me."

"Okay, but can we do it with your pants on?"

"I'm going to be moving around. I need something lose." She said happily, holding up what looked like a pair of boxers. "Lend me this."

If she wasn't smiling at me like frisky girl I would have had stared at her all night long. The lose pajama on top of her was the only thing covering her body. Underneath – well, I swore I saw her wear panties, but even with that fact in mind, seeing her bare, tempting legs makes her look so darn erotic. So much for appreciation – I think I rather see her naked without malice, than look at her now and risk a nose bleed.

"Alright, alright - put it on, in fact put anything on."

I don't know what it was to beam about, but she did beam at me, exposing her dimples and enlivening the shimmer in her eyes. She then pulled up my underwear and twirled around to feel the freedom of movement. Ridiculous, but awfully sweet. Only Rima can trigger my switches in such a swift fashion. First she was making me feel so perverted and cautious, and now she was looking adorable in that childish regard for her appearance, giving me a fuzzy feeling inside.

"This feels nice." she absentmindedly rubbed the curve of her butt as she said that, really enjoying the soft fabric and, as always, completely unaware of the kind of show she was giving me.

"Yeah, I know. You look really good in it. Let's go down to the kitchen, shall we?" I pulled her out of the room before she could verify the comfort of such shorts by roaming her hands in places I've always wanted to touch. On the way to the kitchen, I was still discerning whether I should tell the purpose of such comfortable shorts. I was certainly not at peace with the thought of my thing and her thing indirectly touching, and it was making me blush mad. Darn, I've seen my girlfriend nude, kissed her in all torrid means possible, yet still couldn't stand the concept of her using my underwear. What the hell is wrong with me?

"I want to be the one to cook for the party next week." She said, putting an apron on. The way she posed in front of me while I was getting some ingredients from the fridge gave me the clear notion that she was intentionally teasing me. If only she knew – everything about her is a tease, and she doesn't even have to put much of an effort to be one.

I set the 'underwear conspiracy' aside in light of a greater challenge – cooking with Rima. All efforts to make her spend time in the culinary room at school have failed so far, so I wasn't really confident about a decent meal tonight. We decided to go for stew, or something close to it at least – anything that involves putting everything in and leaving all else to the stove. That will definitely save us time, and prevent all foreseeable chaos.

The clock showed a quarter pass 8. We should be asleep at least before ten if we want to be focused at school. I took more of the vegetables from lower bin, considering the idea of serving Rima a really hearty dinner to force her body to sleep. I stood up, items in arm, and was about to get the spices running, when I saw Rima by the sink.

I was slight expecting her to be a wreck in this part of the house, or just ask repetitive questions and not understand a single answer, let alone cooperate with any instructions. Needless to say, I was underestimating her, but it would appear she deserves more of my trust in housework.

She was considering the potatoes I have placed by the counter, inspecting each one slowly and carefully. When she had three satisfactory crops in hand, she took hold of a small knife and began peeling it. It was terribly slow, but it was also remarkably accurate – the skin having been removed well and thin. The serious look on her face and the cautious use of that utensil told me she had done it before.

A strange scene appeared in my head – of a much older version of her, wearing the same apron, cutting vegetables in the same kitchen, bearing the same beauty as I know she would always have, using the same elegant hands, with only a silver wedding ring to mark the difference. She'd look at me, maybe smile, maybe stick out her tongue, maybe wink, but she'd definitely look at me, and I'd walk behind her, place arms around her slim waist to squeeze her tight, and steal a quick peck on her cheek. After a while, when she had made enough noise from my kisses turned playful, a pint size angel would run into the kitchen calling out to mama and papa.

"A little help here." Her complaint slash back-up request broke my thoughts before I could figure out if our first kid would be a boy or a girl. I looked at her work, and became certain that I was really, REALLY underestimating her. The potatoes were peeled quite well and cut, along with a couple of onions I didn't even see her handling.

I'll be sharing my vision with her later. In the meantime, I would make do with at least a portion of it.

While she was busy remembering the next few steps of the recipe, I snaked my hands around her small body and gently pulled her to me. When she looked up, I stole a kiss on her cheek, further reddening her face and narrowing her questioning look.

"What is it?" she asked, looking quizzical and cute.

"Nothing. Let's continue with where you left off."

The next few minutes went by without a single misfortunate event, other than her occasional frustration with the right sauce to put in, and her premature measurements. Other than that, everything went smoothly, and without my earlier prejudice. After seeing her diligent attempt to make a finer lady out of herself, I thought she deserves more credit and trust.

We had a nice bowl of thick beef stew and large portions of rice at the end of the hour. The cozy feeling coupled with warmth and the wonderful company of her decorated the silence with definite comfort. We sat and gave courtesy for the food, and then began to ravage through the courses. That sudden energy I catered for myself before going down went up full force as I took immediately large portions, unmindful of the considerate girl beside me.

"A bit too salty." She softly declared, more to herself. Her face turned into a mild grimace as she considers a probable mistake. She obviously had her own expectations of herself which weren't met. As for me, I wasn't really expecting anything good to come about this kitchen venture, hence I was quite surprised when the food turned out exquisite.

I particularly like the flavor seeped in the bite-sized potatoes, other than the fact that I adored the very fingers that held them moments ago. I lowered my pace to take my sweet time looking at my sweet girl, having such a dissatisfied look on her sweet little face. Her standards are amazing sometimes to the point of being scary.

She finally caught the unreasonable smug smirk on my face while I was still busy chewing my food. The scary self-ridiculing gaze she was stabbing on her food just now turned to me, and I was left to justify such an arrogant, satisfied expression.

"What?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow for emphasis.

"Nothing."

"You're strange, you know that?" she declared, having deal with another phenomenon unanswered.

She made a subtle 'hump', airing proud and superior amidst the obvious insecurities she was carrying. The blush on her face says everything. She knew she couldn't handle things like this, and at some point she realized she might not be enough. THIS was not enough, taking into account the simple meal that rattled her brain with the mere preparations.

"I… I'll be better." She said, eyes softening into a pleading curve, "I promise, Nagi. Give me some time and I'll figure my way out. I'll know how to cook, how to bake, and all other stuff you do in the kitchen."

Was that panic I was hearing? Is she really that fearful of being insufficient? I suppose for a girl who wants to satisfy her boy to the best that she can, being unable to at least fill his belly is dreadfully insulting. There was little to say in this regard, because she wants to do her best, but I want her to know that she is more than the best that I could ask for.

A grain of rice managed to escape the grace and manner with which she eats, and got stuck beside her lips. While I stuck to the smirk I had been wearing ever since I took my first bite, I still was able to give her a warmer look, leaned towards her, and nibbled on that part of her face where the freeloader was hanging.

"I'm sure you will," I said, stroking her chin with my thumb, "But don't ever think that I would ask for anything more than what I have, and I have you, Rima. That's all I'll ever ask."

"Really?" her eyes twinkled with encouragement, which I pushed further on with a nod and a quick, soft kiss on her lips.

She started eating normally after that, sharing a flustered smile with me as she did so. While she was having her second serving, I carefully scanned her skimpy appearance. I almost forgot the boxer shorts that added compliments to her fine legs, so much so it severed decency from my thoughts completely. I would definitely be dreaming about this later tonight, and in all other nights to come. I might even add this up to the fantasy I just had earlier.

The fuss about cooking and being a better person to be the better half is so complicated, something I don't think she should be bothering about. Besides, even now I always have my fill of her. She's basically the finest dish I could ever have, and I can't wait for the day she becomes mine for the full, ravenous taking.

My simple, meaningful smile began to convert its meaning into mischief as my head began to showcase all possible things I could do to her with an apron, my boxers, and nothing else. Even with my belly almost full she's working up my appetite, and I had to stop myself from pouncing on her while she licked her lips in such a sultry fashion I don't think she's aware of. But she doesn't need to be aware of that, nor of the fact that she always makes me hungry, one way or another.

I will always have cravings for her, because she's all that I will ever need, and all that I'll ever want.

End of chapter 7

I hope you enjoyed that.

Thanks for all the reviews and comments.

Next few chapters will have several parts, a bit of a shift from our earlier settings.

A bit of AmuXTadase and AmuXNagihiko too... tell me if it seems overkill already (^_^)