A/N: This is independent from all my works. Just like this series' Chapter7 (Sei and Shimako), this belonged to a different plane of existence. Just finish it reading, and please tell me what you think.
HOW THEY WISH IT WAS RAINING
-TheSilentReader-
CHAPTER 9:
After the Tenth Count
Premierière
Ogasawara Sachiko sat rigidly on a sofa at the living room of the Ogasawara mansion, inspecting dispassionately at a pleated part of her Lillian uniform, having confused thoughts of getting rid of them with successive brushes of her palms or just leave it there. The uniform was to be rid for the laundry anyway, so why bother? Before the sixteen-year-old girl was a tall boy smiling so warmly, rolling the contents of his teacup with ease as he laughed heartily by a small, mundane comment made by Sachiko's mother. The seventeen year-old boy, who was finally becoming a man his upbringing had expected of him, Kashiwagi Suguru taught himself that indulging to small efforts of Sayako Obaa-sama would be enough for the poor woman to be rid of more pressing personal matters. It was the least he could do.
If there were nervousness in Sachiko's features, she would not have shown it; if there were exhaustion overwhelming Suguru's lithe, muscular body, he dismissed it by instinct.
However, their minds were thinking of the same intention: it was to rid of Ogasawara Sayako from the living room. It was a proof that neither of them would ever reveal their hidden skin with the skirmish hanging between the two of them. This was a battle of wits, and neither of them likes to remain a sore loser.
Finally, Sayako left them to their own devices—Sachiko talked quite eagerly about the weather that Kashiwagi joined in to discuss the inventive science behind the improvement of biotechnology against declining agriculture of rice in the uplands—it was all humdrum that Sayako chose to leave them at peace. Besides, maybe Sachiko was finally giving the boy a break; she was rather too disagreeable and impulsive whenever Suguru was in the same room as hers lately.
When Sayako closed the doors, the princess finally chose to get rid of those little white lint upon her skirt—a deed she hastily accomplishing in front of an observing Suguru—in a pace that was very unbecoming for a pure-bred lady like herself. Suguru, however, slouched into his seat and opened his legs, and propped his head to his elbow-supported palms, his black hair swaying as if his own short hair had life.
"So, you have moved on." He started.
Sachiko slid her final effort for the lint with a faint snort, "Of course I have. It was as if you're the only man who could hold my interest so effectively, Guru-kun. I was a bit overwhelmed with my fits of tears in our last encounter alone."
"True, Sa-chan. But, I shall correct you. I am the only man who can understand you." He crowed, his voice titillating, like symphonies of angels. "Perhaps the only man you wanted."
It was a stab upon her chest but she neither ignored it nor rejected it. It was a fact.
"That is also correct." She agreed softly, but challenged. "But it is also the same for you, Guru-kun."
The boy smiled as his form of reply. It was enough for Sachiko to feel liquid upon her knees, air in her lungs and stirring in her belly. He stood up from his seat, walked past the table separating them and knelt before her, like a knight for his lady. The whole room seemed to dim as she watched his form before her, relishing of the moment—that somehow, she was momentarily above him in station. She smirked at her thoughts of raking her hands on his soft, ebony hair.
While her right leg was crossed over her left one, she watched his hand cupped at the sock-covered sole of her right foot, then slid his nimble fingers along the skin covering her Achiles' tendon, then her calf. By that time, her smirk had stretched wider when he said, "Would you like me to grant you a favor?"
Then, he kissed her pleated skirt-covered knee.
Sachiko rejected the offer by swinging her left leg to cross above the right. "That would make the efforts too fruitless, would it not?"
"Of course."
He returned to his seat once more, reveling now he found Sachiko finally wearing her own skin before him, in exchange of the prim, straight-laced girl she pretended to be.
Deuxième
Fukuzawa-san returned his smile with a brighter grin of her own. He intended not pamper the innocent girl with his own sickening dose of cheerfulness—that would appear to everyone to be banal and conceited. He found her pigtails very amusing to watch—just the sway of the manes left and right as she walked slowly upon the cobbled pathway—and it made him wonder of the reason this girl was sent for him.
Of course, she belonged to the student council; who would bother to collect him from the Lillian gates except the high school division's student council? Yumi (very interesting name) reviewed his accomplishments like engraved encryption in an ancient rock tablet; he doesn't mind the celebratory welcome this time, unlike back then, when all he heard about from everyone around him was songs of praise from a betraying Judas. This time, the complements felt more . . . genuine and pleasant.
Unlike with other people. Without him bracing for his back for backstabbing.
Steps ahead after the statue of Maria-sama he found Sachiko lurking behind a ginkgo tree—a very unlikely sight for a woman who hated them during spring. She found him unguarded (damn it) before a first year who had been pacing unhurriedly. He prepared a glare so deadly for that prude (retaliation for his forgetfulness that he was in Sachiko's territory) but he found her glaring too.
(What is this?)
He expected her to be smirking, like back when he first made his move on her (oh, that failed seduction at the living room). This is not what he thought of her.
Yumi-san, however, proceeded on talking to him about Lillian's Maria-sama and Hanadera's Shakyamuni, and her indoor shoes, without realizing that Sachiko was watching them attentively. Suguru took his time to reply to Yumi but simultaneously monitoring Sachiko's movements.
He was violating something of Sachiko's possession. Something that she doesn't want him to know. When he searched for Sachiko's face, she disappeared.
"Eh?" Yumi-san whispered, her voice trailing along with the inquiry she was about to share with Suguru. She must have noticed.
Because when Suguru found himself alone with Sachiko, his assumptions flashed true before his eyes. This girl—Yumi—was not like the girls Sachiko chose to ignore before. She was like the lint in her skirt: irritating and omnipresent. No, nothing like that—like an interesting pet?
Naturally growing on you as time flies?
Oh, it was so exciting. Sachiko's slap and his less acrobatic, graceless fall upon ginkgo seeds were not enough to quell his admiration to Sachiko's fascination for that little girl. That little girl who paled at the sight of him stealing a kiss from Cinderella, and who rushed to follow a storming Sachiko toward the auditorium.
"I'm sorry, but Kashiwagi-san won't cut it!" He heard Yumi as she sprang for her teary senior.
(Oh, so now, Sachiko was really crying, isn't she.)
Troisième
"And so, you took her as your little sister." He paused for a confirmation.
"Yes, I did." Sachiko said. She was on her bed; a thick blanket covering until her waist. She did not put down a hardbound novel even when the bed-springs faintly creaked as Suguru sat on the side, looking intently at her. She found no sense in stopping her reading, the boy did not block the lamp on the side-drawers—the only source of light in the large, luxurious bedroom.
Suguru smiled gently as he crooned his complements for the lovely girl in sleeveless sleeping gown. "There was nothing wrong in admitting it, Sachiko. For once, I found a gentle, compassionate heart behind those wonderful tits of yours."
She smiled at the vulgar mention of her breasts. He found Suguru's hand trailing from the side of her waist going to the swell at the side of her chest.
That made the prude drop her book. "Why, thank you. But it's not hard to believe that you acquired those smooth, glib words from the Ogasawara side." She looked at him to the eyes and braved an arrogant scowl. "I've stomped your foot many times in the dance scene but still you're chanting overly-used pleasantries at a constant rate."
"Am I like your father, whose prick is like a broken compass, pointing obstinately on all directions? I object. I discriminate, Sa-chan. And you belonged to that short list of people I want to see their clothes torn," He hovered his face dangerously near to Sachiko's neck; the latter moved her book for the light and pretended to be so ignorant of his attack. She concentrated her eyes on the illuminated page of the book. "Say, Cinderella, when midnight strikes? No pun intended."
She was a fast reader. But the page had not been turned ever since he came to her bedroom.
She feigned nonchalance. "And you rejected my offer, before. What a shame. Flattery from my father and grandfather would get them nowhere, but yours strike right through me, Guru-kun."
Suguru dropped his amused façade and enforced a concerned air. "What have they done?" He held her shoulder, as if to take any bad thoughts out her, like a big brother would have done. Sachiko was surprised at the abruptness of his hands, but not his intention.
She huffed, as she put away Suguru's hand. "Calm down. It's not like that."
"I thought they would go that far."
"They are not Ogasawara's if they would stoop that low." She joked.
"This is not a joke." He growled.
"Oh, please." She whined, but it a different matter. His father's philandering habits still tore her insides. He understood. "We may—I may hate my parents, but what you were thinking is not on my list."
He briefly kissed her on the forehead and stood. "I must go and leave you for now. You should sleep early and find time to read in the morning after. Your anemia sprouts from fatigue for staying up late, Sa-chan, not from you waking up early."
Sachiko pouted at the audacity of Suguru striking her flaw upon her impeccable image. "I will. I'll take care of my body just for you, Guru-kun." She said rather sensually, dropping her voice low—a voice Suguru had trouble recovering.
But he had other ideas in her mind. Sachiko had brought him something else interesting. "By the way, I like her, your petite soeur. Would you mind sharing her to me?"
He heard a muffled "You bastard." through the door he had shut.
Quatrième
It was in a rainy, springtime afternoon that she shared her first kiss with someone, let alone with a girl. Although she had touched Suguru's lips lightly in one of their private talks, it was never this full. She had hovered her mouth upon Suguru's, but she forgotten how tired she was when Yumi collected her in her arms and confessed to her.
It was days later after Sachiko's grandmother had died; the only adult in the family that she really cared about.
No one had seen Sachiko they way her grandmother would have. She had known Sachiko's dubious façade at first sight; she had seen Sachiko tend her anger towards her parents and grandfather from a little bud into a groping, rummaging vine, seeping through creases and cracks of Sachiko's perverted mind. It was heartbreaking, the first and probably the last person that truly knew her had been gone to the heavens. God must have such a good companion up there now.
When Yumi kissed her relentlessly, Sachiko did not stop her petite soeur to probe her tongue and touch Sachiko's. Yumi must have sensed that this intimacy was wrong—Sachiko was in the middle of her grievances—and attempted to pull away from Sachiko's arms, but she was stopped. The raven-haired Rosa Chinensis had an iron grip of Yumi's head. Sachiko needed nothing right now except Yumi's attention. Her alone.
And her tongue.
She felt her awareness towards her petite soeur as addictive as her aborted spoils with Suguru. She could have found someone better, a man of greater character than him, but all she had found was Yumi, who had spared her comfort she could not find in anyone. Not even Suguru. Not even his taunting words, or his challenging dares. She was willing to put them away, to leave her past behind, just as long as Sachiko could have Yumi.
In those months ever since she met Yumi, she never thought of love as assuring and fearless as before.
When Yumi broke the kiss, Sachiko could not help but whimper in protest. Seeing Sachiko distressed and unsatisfied, Yumi reached for the ribbons securing her pigtails and pulled them. It was enough. Sachiko kissed her more ferociously, more bravely, from the mouth leading down to the neck and collarbone. Yumi even allowed her to reach her left breast and latched to it, in which Yumi returned with a long breathless sigh.
But Yumi pushed her suddenly—too suddenly. Her face, colored showed desire and wanting, was replaced with embarrassment. The movements of her eyes were fast enough for Sachiko to suspect trouble lurking beside they fateful reconciliation. She turned around, and probed to the direction where Yumi's eyes guiltily wandered.
She found Suguru looking at them. But Sachiko found no disgust nor ostracism. She found his eyes hooded, as if savoring the sight before him.
It was true then, what Suguru had told her—he has a deep lust for Fukuzawa Yumi. She belonged to his short list.
Cinquième
Yumi would have forgotten her embarrassment of her self-consciousness for Sachiko's cousin, if Yuuki had not brought Kashiwagi-san and Kobayashi-san to the house often these past few weeks. She forced herself not to weaken at the sight of him with Yuuki, too afraid of her brother discovering that his sempai had known more than he'd appeared to be. Kashiwagi was as nonchalant as ever, as if the moment that transpired at the funeral had never happened. But when Yuuki was not looking, Suguru would narrow his eyes and focus on hers—adamant to violate her reticence.
She felt sullied not because of his stares, nor her oblique cheating against Sachiko, but her unwanted, yet undeniable lure for Kashiwagi Suguru.
Somehow, she kind of liked it. His attentions.
Very much like Sachiko, but with a gruff, unexplored, masculine feel. It was Yumi's first opinion as a woman who never been with a boy who irked ever since she was able to think consciously.
Something in the summer must have boiled her brains into thinking of Sachiko's cousin even after a week of being alone with Sachiko in her summer house. Sachiko and Yumi might have hurdled through a silly lot called society, but Yumi did not bother to ask herself questions that would dig more for her building interest about Sachiko's life. She may be honest with Yumi, she may welcome the possibility of answering Yumi's questions, but she may not tell them all. The truth.
She was insecure of how far she could manage to snake out every nook and cranny of how Ogasawara Sachiko lived her life apart from her society and upbringing. Of how far Yumi was prepared to forage Sachiko's psyche, further than the skin that demonstrates The Ice Princess.
Kashiwagi Suguru was one of her shovel.
Sixième
"Tell me. Is it after she became your petite soeur or after your little moment in Oba-sama's funeral?"
"Again, she is not my plaything." Sachiko hissed.
Suguru was reading a book that Sachiko had finished—a genre that Sachiko had tried after she buried her nose to Japanese literary classics, a contemporary romance novel. Whoever has convinced her to read and finish the book was worthy of cookies from Suguru. It was not an everyday experience that a person could easily pursuade Sachiko to accomplish such an inane change. She must have been sick of her catalogue of boring books that even their grandparents would be caught sick reading.
It must be Yumi and her friends in the student council.
It was rather fun. Suguru had been lying on the couch in Sachiko's bedroom, flicking through the pages of this divisive book that reduced Sachiko into a fit of brooding at the corner of her four-poster bed. She stopped fighting to grab the book away from him at the first sight of his hands picking up the book on the top of the bed's side drawer. It was enough to induce a speechless taunting.
"By the way, did you know that Yumi-chan has a persistent stalker at Lillian?"
After a length of silence, she spoke, "I had an idea. How did you know about this?"
"Oh, just one of my kohai reached out to me to be Yumi's boyfriend for an afternoon." He gloated. "Actually, I volunteered. I was lucky enough to overhear the council's chitchat that when they mentioned her name, I abandoned all restraints and beg them to join the discussion."
"And you are, in effect, jovial just with your small encounters with my petite soeur?" She dared.
"Small? I never consider them small encounters, Sa-chan."
"Why don't you stick to your own kohai, Suguru?" Her tone was clipped when she mentioned his name. Was she regretting her words? The boy frowned—Sachiko was not as blunt as she used to be.
"You mean Yuuki-san? I never thought you'd even suggest that. All the more a reason that I believe Yumi-chan is more your plaything, than a serious lover." He prodded.
"I never said names. Shall I suggest Alice-san's or Masamune-san's instead to negate your beliefs?" She warned.
Both Suguru and Sachiko regretted that the kohai was included in the conversation. No . . . everything seemed idle apart from her. Yet, even deconstructing Yumi was enough to open old wounds and tearing down newly-built fortresses around them.
"I am surprised, too. I expected you to give your best shot. But all you've done was just . . . this." She complained. "I expected you to take her away from me the moment you noticed her. I was agitated ever since." Sachiko let gravity draw her body into the soft mattress of her bed. She was prepared to sleep her worries and let Suguru leave without her permission, because she was barely keeping her temper in check at the sight of the boy. It was too long ever since she felt revolted—it was two years ago, when he rejected her advances.
"I tried."
Sachiko, who was already lying down (her back at Suguru), tried not to jerk. He murmured, "I tried to kiss her. A stupid suggestion to make the act more realistic. But she threw that option to the wind. She said that it was not a good idea, particularly when there was someone watching us."
"Then, if the girl—whoever that sow is—were not keeping her eyes on you, Yumi might have accepted?" The question was as painful as pealing off the whole layer of skin.
He lied down next to Sachiko, and embraced her from behind. Even though both of them were fully clothed—he was in his long-sleeved, collared shirt and black slacks, while she was in her ankle-length nightgown—they were naked to each other as their fully reciprocated, unadulterated honesty.
His breath warmed the hood of her ear when he said, "Who knows. Why don't you ask her?"
There was no seduction in his words, only uncertainty.
Septième
"Now, explain to me why he hasn't done anything." She stonily insisted. They were alone in the greenhouse.
Her question was more of a conundrum.
Too much time had passed before Sachiko had the courage to ask her about Suguru. She knew that her cousin did attempt to chase her petite soeur since Kanako's overzealous obsession over Yumi. Even after the Yamayurikai play and the school festival had passed, Sachiko had too much on her mind that striking a supercilious dominance over her lover was too tiresome and straining, just imagining it.
Their meetings in the greenhouse were never calculated, as well as Sachiko's question after their heady make-out session. Bringing up Suguru was always the deal-breaker. It ruined perfect conversations and the mood for heavy petting.
"Onee-sama, I don't think I would allow him to kiss me, even though we were just pretending." Yumi meekly retorted, as she pulled herself away from Sachiko's embrace.
It was true, then. Suguru proved himself to be fully honest with Sachiko. Yumi chose not to run away from Sachiko's concern; uncharacteristic of her to do. It became a nagging thought that Yumi was having a confused impression of Suguru, besides her early assumption that her petite soeur hated Suguru because he rejected her two years ago.
"I told him not to." Yumi repeated, force overtaking her timid voice.
"Be honest with me." Sachiko frowned at her audacity to demand answers as if it was Yumi's fault.
"I . . . I ask you the same thing." Yumi clenched her hands into fists. She was trying her hardest to look straight to Sachiko's eyes. It was her turn to raise her voice. "I can feel that there is more of you and Kashiwagi-san than most people know. More than anyone knows. More than I know."
Sachiko deferred from winning. She knew that both she and Suguru made this happen. "I won't deny that he has the worst of faults, that he has what I hate the most in men. Yes, he is manipulative, he is almost cruel, but at the same time, he is sympathetic. He doesn't lie to me. I trust him."
The contrasts were appalling. The girl in pigtails declared in struggling menace. "You still love him."
Sachiko shuddered. She whispered, almost disoriented to breathe properly, "Do I appear as the worst woman you've ever met? Because I don't blame you at all. Not a bit." Then, she straightened her posture, ready to face all consequences. "As a matter of fact, I drove you into this. I've let you seen too much. Suguru and I have become disfigured before your eyes."
"I won't be surprised if you don't want me anymore." Sachiko stifled a faint cry as she mewled.
Yumi never felt guilty in her entire life. She was confused about Suguru, and if they had the same conversation, it could turn out like this. It was her wishful thinking—that his grace of being honest to his friends would be extended to her. But Sachiko could read her, like a lover and sister should. And Sachiko understood. Because they were similar.
In silent tears, Yumi shouted before Sachiko caught her by her back to embrace and kiss her again. "I don't understand why I couldn't even become upset. Why couldn't I?!"
Huitième
She was inside Sachiko's bedroom, right after the doctor was dismissed after the general check-up on the Ogasawara heiress' health. The moment the door was closed and locked, Yumi ran to Sachiko's bed and took her lips in a languid kiss.
All was said and done. Sachiko wanted Yumi to hold her hand. Kashiwagi might have known her all her life, but it was Yumi who she wanted to be with when she was weak like this. Sachiko gave her assurance but it did not erase the fact that when Suguru came into Sachiko's rescue, his face soften and his arms sturdied—his strength was more than enough to carry Sachiko. His face showed more than concern that a brother would show. When he noticed Yumi watching him, he entrusted Sachiko to the younger girl, without hesitation, without jealousy. He just demonstrated how to be selfless.
Weren't they competing for Sachiko's love?
Were they really?
Because after Kashiwagi drove Yuuki and Yumi back home after a long day in the amusement park, after Yuuki gave him a glare as he strode into the doors when Yumi wanted to talk to Kashiwagi alone, and after their heated discussion about jealousy, types of love and insurance, Yumi found Kashiwagi's teasing about not minding to be Yumi's fiancé not a fucking joke. He intended to get into Yumi's pants. Just as she thought that she could imagine him going down on her, eating her, like Sachiko have done gladly.
Neuvième*
"Are you prepared to accept her?"
Yumi was astonished at the question. It was a question related to Touko, but the spotlight was immediately shared with Sachiko. Everything was clouded to hide secrets, to keep them at bay from prying, questioning eyes. Even Yumi, who had nothing to conceal before, had troubles keeping the act that nothing about Suguru would rattle her.
Suguru tore off his sunglasses. Then he turned off the engine of his sports car and slumped his shoulders to his cushioned seat. Whatever he knew, his sadness emanated in his tired features. Before Yumi could stop herself, she reached out beyond the window of the car. The urge to comfort him got the best of her. Alarmed, she retreived it and settled her hand at the frame instead.
"I . . ."
There was too much to consider—accepting herself, Touko, Sachiko, and even Suguru. If it were just a small matter, Suguru would not be as greatly affected, as he would show. If Suguru prefered to keep his feelings for himself, then the exposure of his distress was just a fraction of his emotions inside. He must have been restraining himself.
"For your sake, and for Touko's sake, think about it once more before asking me." He said as he looked at "If I'm asked again, I'll answer you."
She watched his car sped away. But she felt his concern for Touko still saturated from where he left. His concern for his cousin had blown her tremendously she felt so little compared to him. Even though they were just cousins, he understood Touko as any loving brother would.
Sachiko had been right. He was very perceptive.
Dixième*
"You love Yumi, don't you?"
Kashiwagi made a comical face as he objected and shook his head. "What are you saying? I . . ." Suguru stiffed mid-sentence.
"I see. I'm sorry." Sachiko looked away from him as she muttered her apology.
It had been all too peculiar to see Suguru denied his feelings for Yumi in front of her. She could never remember the boy reluctant to tell her the truth, no matter how hurting, how small or great it was. He had nothing to hide from her, as well as she from him. There was no point in lying. Many a reason be possible for his unwillingness to deny his feelings, but somehow, he became much simpler to understand. Looking at his point of view, she knew.
He stopped playing the game. Their game. She had stopped long ago, when Yumi and she became lovers. He stopped playing when he realized he became attached to Sachiko's lover more than he wanted. He frowned. "I know. I should have laughed and said, 'Yumi-chan's a good child, so I love her.'"
Yumi was not a plaything, a bet. Yumi loved Touko and accepted her regardless of Touko's past and insecurities. Just this effort for Touko was enough for Suguru to surrender.
Sachiko could not laugh at him. "Something like that. I may have not understood you in the past, but recently, I began to understand things."
It was a momentous revelation in a very inappropriate location such as a comfort room in the Ogasawara mansion.
Neither of them could taunt the other. This was supposedly Sachiko's triumph over their little teasing about that peculiar pigtailed girl named Fukuzawa Yumi, but she felt she did not deserve even an ounce of Yumi's affections.
Yumi understood Sachiko and Suguru's closeness . . . far more than Sachiko ever expected of her.
He broke the silence with a half-baked joke. "If you have to put my love on a balance, I love you far more than Yumi-chan." His face showed he did not even like what he was saying.
"It's a different type of love, right?"
"Yes, you sure are smart, Sa-chan."
The conversation sounded so foul he gritted his teeth. "I should be going. If we stay in the restroom for too long, even Oba-sama will have strange thoughts."
Sachiko took his hand, just to make sure if everything that happened here—his distaste of their conversation tonight (he enjoyed them before), his failed confidence (he executed it perfectly before)—were all truths. When she felt his hand cold and shaking lightly, she knew he was afraid of his change.
He was afraid because he was not in control anymore.
Sachiko looked for an excuse just so not to embarrass Suguru. Even though they were alone in the washroom. "Wait. You forgot to wash your hands."
Èpilogue
Sachiko's room has large windows, but seldom had its curtains been opened completely. On Sachiko's bed, Yumi was lying on her stomach, her lithe back exposed up to the cleavage of her buttocks. The sheen of sweat present hours ago had evaporated, minuscule hairs gently rising. The owner of the bed was standing before the tall windows, gazing at the cloudless, star-studded sky, wearing nothing but her skin. She did not bother covering.
She had received her diploma, and that weekend, she wanted nothing but to be with Yumi. Alone, in this very place she considered her home. The size of the summer house did not match the Ogasawara estate, but she can breathe easier here. Hallways and staircases may be smaller and narrower, but she was not suffocated. They had the house by themselves. Not even the housekeeper took her time to leave them at peace.
It was too silent that even the smooth revving of a car could be very loud, that Yumi shifted in her sleep when Suguru's red sports car parked beside Sachiko's black sedan. When Suguru got out, he immediately looked up to the lightless window and smiled warmly at the sight of a nude Sachiko bathing in the blue moonlight.
He knew the way: the spare key (beneath a pot of cactus before the porch), Sachiko's room, closet, bed. He deposited his suitcase beside the bed, and grazed his eyes at Yumi's naked backside. Sachiko remained by the window, watching Suguru sat beside Yumi, as he smoothed her nape and kissed it gently. Yumi stirred and turned her back to the bed, just so she could look up to the man, who combed her bangs away from her forehead and leaned down again to kiss her there. It trailed downwards—to her cheek, then on her opened mouth.
Sachiko drew to the bed, and burried herself beneath the thick covers. Tonight would be Yumi's first time with a man, as well as Sachiko's. Yet, she contented herself to watch for now, to look at Suguru from a different angle . . . with her woman. Perhaps he could never bestow such unique, longing scrutiny to Sachiko as he would for Yumi, but at least Sachiko had witnessed it. As well as Yumi's wonderment when she reached with her hand and carressed Suguru's cheek.
It was the same as Sachiko's severe honesty to Suguru, or Suguru's complete understanding of Sachiko, or Yumi's exalted worship and adoration for Sachiko.
Or Suguru and Sachiko's warped, incomparable, ceaseless desire for Yumi.
And the other way around.
Yumi broke the kiss and look away to search for Sachiko's eyes, but the latter just closed their lids to settle the girl's doubts. Then, Yumi gave in to her instinct, and unfastened the buttons of Suguru's crisp shirt.
Perhaps three had been a crowd.
But, no matter. The bed was large enough.
END
* The conversations in Neuvième and Dixième were ripped off from (Maria-sama Ga Miteru, Fourth Season) episodes 6 and 10, respectively. I changed the way they acted during those two different scenes.
A/N: OOCs everywhere. There is an unabridged version of this, if you must know. My sister insisted that I should publish whole thing, but I defended that not everyone likes a detailed rundown of what happened exactly, when this threesome was so guaranteed. But sex scenes are important too.
Implications are enough, but not wholly satisfying. I wish I could write as beautifully as the top writers in this fandom... PWP or not. Because having a PWP fic with tweaked characters for some subtle character study is one hard thing to do. Please, tell me if I nailed it?
Cookies for those who will send PMs and reviews!