All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 41 – Rematch: Round 2 (Patreon)

I am in Hell.

“This… This offendsme on a deep, personal level,” Haruno says, vaguely pointing at the TV with a wide, sweeping gesture that…

That makes her naked breasts bounce.

It’s… very eye-catching.

“You’re the one who chose the channel,” I remind her.

“I thought it would be interesting to see what it is you modern types go for in competition, but… this.”

This, the thing her disgusted face sneers at, is an MMA match. A welterweight bout with two no-names (not that I would recognize anyone but the most famous in the sport—my thing is boxing) that have, I must admit, horrid footwork.

And why is Haruno, a very naked Haruno, on my sofa, lying against my own chest, and gesticulating at an MMA match?

Well, apparently, after our latest emotional spar, she decided we both needed to decompress. And we were already naked, the two of us, so it would be a good way to engender trust and familiarity to remain naked. Which means Haruno’s short, soft hair keeps brushing between my breasts whenever she moves her head—which is often, and I’m pretty sure that’s entirely on purpose, because Haruno, but, at the same time, she seems really engrossed in the match, or, at least, about criticizing everything in it—which is also something utterly Haruno—and I think I should finish this sentence before I make myself dizzy.

“I mean, I keep hearing all those arguments about how this is far superior to traditional martial arts due to all the ‘pressure testing’ of techniques, but… really? Throat strikes are illegal? One of the most effective ways to incapacitate a physically superior opponent, and it’s illegal?”

“I think it’s because they don’t want any murder,” I pretend to helpfully point out while I keep struggling with what to do with my hands other than letting them rest on Haruno’s trim, warm, smooth belly.

I am lying on my side, reclining against the backrest, my head on a shared throw pillow, and Haruno is playing at being my little spoon.

Except the little spoon is not supposed to wiggle, and gesture, and do absolutely everything in her power to make me focus on her and her alone while I keep having flashbacks of a very cute, very traumatized high school girl who kept demanding all my time and attention.

‘Young teacher, the subject, of schoolgirl fantasy…’

I am awfully bad at English, and yet I keep having that song on loop! Mercy, Haruno! I regret all the times I looked inappropriately at my young student! I regret them all!

…

I mean… students. Plural.

Oh gods, I am literally in Hell, and I deserve it all…

“Yeah, they don’t want any murder, and they don’t allow small joint manipulation, or spear strikes to the face, or pinching, or hair pulling. What is this? Do I need to watch a catfight to see some real action?”

“Huh, they say, when it all started, and it was less regulated, those kinds of techniques very rarely won a match,” I tell her, definitely not noticing the way her chest rises and falls with every agitated breath she takes.

Very, terribly, horror-movie-monster slowly, Haruno turns toward me, her back sliding sideways across my own chest until her right arm is firmly lodged between my breasts.

“Tell me you see the problem with that reasoning. Please, tell me you see the problem with that reasoning.”

I see two pink nipples and very little else, Haruno!

I mean…

“Run me through it?” I actually say.

“The threat! If you know your opponent isn’t allowed to bite your jugular off, that lets you pull all those moronic moves with your neck close to their face! If you know they can’t hit you in the back of the head, the nape, or the spine? Well then, I guess that explains the ludicrous amount of tackles to the leg. Who the Hell tackles the leg if they aren’t sure their opponent isn’t about to break—”

In the screen, inside a thin, black margin, a poorly shaven, well-muscled man tackles another man who fits the same description, his arms wrapping around the right knee before he takes him to the ground and scurries to mount him like they are very aggressive homosexual lovers.

…

Yeah, like Haruno and I…

“That! That! You see? Who would ever train you to go to the ground! You remain upright! Stand, and you live, fall, and you die! It’s the very basics!”

“You’re… really getting into this.”

“You don’t train to fight one opponent! That’s for duels! If you fight, you need to take into account your opponent’s allies, your own allies, how they are positioned, how the environment allows for—”

“Haruno, I reallydon’t think anybody is really suggesting you should dive to the ground in a street fight. Concrete is not that forgiving.” Much less on bare skin. Like…. like the vast amount of bare skin you currently have on display.

“Then why do they train for it!” she asks with eyes wide enough they actually manage to distract me from her jiggling tits as she indignantly points at the TV.

Momentarily, at least.

“I mean… would you really say somebody who doesn’t know what to do if the fight goes to the ground is a better fighter—”

“That’s not what I’m saying! Of course you need to know what to do at every eventuality, but—look, you need to know how to regain control of your car if you slide over a patch of ice. That doesn’t mean you go looking for ice to slide on—”

“That’s not at all—”

“It’s stupid.These… these athletes say their art is better than mine, and thisis what they offer? Sure, they have twice my weight in muscle, I can’t see myself winning by their rules, and they’d obviously have a better sense of timing and distance, if only because of all the actual sparring, but if we’re talking technique? No way. It’s ludicrous to even consider. This is a sport, not a martial art—”

“Haruno, I really, really think you should take a deep breath—”

“Oh, no, that’s you,” she says, her volume drastically dropping at the same time as the manic energy abandons her face.

And is replaced by thatsmirk.

“Huh?” I intelligently ask.

And only then do I realize that small joint manipulation is precisely something Haruno excels at. Small joints like, you know, my wrists.

“You are a treacherous, cunning, backstabbing—”

“As your Hachiman would say: praise me more,” she cuts me off before I can make it to the halfway point of my list of adjectives.

Immobilized, Haruno’s arms around my waist and her hands keeping mine pinned behind me, I arch an eyebrow.

“My Hachiman?”

And, in one of those very rare instances I always try to treasure, I see Haruno’s mocking grin quiver.

“He’s definitelyyours,” she adds, trying to cover her slip.

My eyebrow perks up.

“I think you already know I’m in a sharing mood,” I tell her, lowering my voice as I lean slightly forward. Her arm is no longer lodged between my breasts, because she managed to use her weird MMA rant to maneuver us into our current situation without me noticing, but that just means her chest is in front of me, touching me, and that I can increase the pressure as I do my very best to have my voice become something short of a growl, because there’s only so much I can take before I learn a thing or two about what it is that Hachi does to make my knees quiver.

And now Haruno’s smile is… straining.

“I… may take you up on that,” she comments, still pretending to be in control.

I wonder if licking my lips would be taking things a step too far?

“Oh, no, that won’t do. Not when Iroha is convinced we need to break up your ‘alliance.’ Really, I think you and Hachi are… close enough to…”

Haruno’s eyes drift down to my lips.

I lick them.

And she closes her eyes, and I’m pretty sure she tries not to whine.

“Haruno… I think I’m winning,” I whisper.

Her eyes shoot open, some indignation back in them.

Which is when I kiss her.

Her grip on me slackens, and I get my wrists out of her hold to grab her cheeks as my new freedom allows me to go from a soft, tender peck to an actual kiss. To the kind of thing that needs me keeping her steady as I push forward, our chests shifting outwards as they are pressed together, and my tongue darts in to meet hers.

I lick it, Haruno’s tongue, her flavor still fresh on my mind after earlier, after our first bout of the day, but now she’s more… pliable. Defenseless.

And…

Well, if she’s going to be on such a martial arts kick, I definitely should take advantage of any openings.

So I shift forward, my right leg going over her hip before I drag her to me, to my yet again drenched panties, the only piece of clothing I’ve yet to take off, and Haruno follows my lead, her body sliding against mine, her own sex seeping wet heat against the front of my left thigh as her whole body arches against mine, her head tilting back, shifting the throw pillow we’d been sharing while she pointlessly pretended to rage at the TV.

Her hands slide up and down my back, threading my hair and pulling me further into our kiss as she digs her fingers into my ass and squeezes, making me whimper into her mouth right before she shivers, and I feel more of her wetness on my thigh.

I pull her against me with the leg that surrounds her as my arms tighten, as I wrap my whole body against Haruno, our skin flush, our heat becoming one as our breaths mingle from one hungry mouth to another.

And then I stop.

Because I deserve to be in Hell, but…

She doesn’t. Never did.

I force myself to pull my head back and away from lips softer than I imagined that time she brought me a can of coffee while I was going over the latest tests. I joked that that wouldn’t improve her chances of passing, and then she arched one of those wondrous eyebrows of hers and told me it was hardly practical to raise her chances over a hundred percent.

And she smiled with the beginnings of that smile she would later hone and sharpen, and I found myself staring at her lips and hating myself for it.

And now I stare at those very same lips, shining pink with our mingled saliva, and I hate myself for not taking them sooner. When she offered.

When she showed me she needed me.

But…

We’re both panting, our breathing harsh and rough, and it takes me a moment to find the words. Not the right words, just… words.

“I love you. Please, please, know that I love you, but… are you… are you really sure? About this? About me? Us?”

Something hitches in my voice mid-line, but I push past it. Because I’m not letting myself stop and hesitate. Not anymore.

And she looks at me, vulnerable as she so often is and so rarely shows.

And she pulls back.

Haruno stands up from my sofa, the cushion beneath me shifting with her departing body.

And then she takes my hand and pulls me up.

“Years,” she whispers as she makes me stand in front of her, and she takes my other hand while her eyes remain on mine, the lavender as captivating as that time on the school’s roof, with her hair swaying in the breeze and glinting with the setting sun. “Years, Shizuka… And you think I’ll hesitate now?”

She steps forward, and the sofa’s right behind me, so I can’t back off. I can just stand there and let her naked body press on mine, making the two of us shift with the movement.

“It’s… I don’t want you to regret anything. If you need more time—”

She laughs.

“Any more time and I would’ve broken,” she tells me with a bitter smile.

My fingers tighten around hers.

“Please… please, don’t even joke about that,” I beg her.

She tilts her head to the right the tiniest amount, just enough to convey her curiosity, and then the smile loses the bitter edge.

“I lied. I wouldn’t have broken.” There’s… relief at that. Something falling from my shoulders I didn’t notice I’d been carrying. “I’d given up. On you. On us. I’d given up, and I still couldn’t help feeling what I feel for you. And now… Now we’re here.”

The smile shifts yet again.

It’s a frail, tender thing. A dream fading with morning light. Something unique, unrepeatable.

Except…

I lean forward, and meet her lips again, barely brushing against them as my whole shifts in minuscule amounts to make the moment possible.

And this is also unrepeatable.

I let the kiss fade and lean forward, whispering in her ear that I love her, that I don’t want to let go, that I was always afraid to tighten my hold on her and damage something that couldn’t be fixed. And she tells me I’m an idiot, a moron, that she loves me, that she never wanted us to drift away.

And this is also unique.

She takes a step back, never letting my hands go, and she pulls me with her. I don’t know how, but my right hand is now resting on her hip, my left raised to the side, and Haruno twirls, pulling me with the movement into something that reminds me of that Aikido thing she once tried to teach me, speaking about leaving a vacuum that the opponent needs to fill. But it’s not.

It’s not an attack; it’s not anything other than Haruno moving and me following. And the motion dances to a silent music that I can feel in my chest, the same as I felt on that sunset-lit rooftop as she stared at me in what I couldn’t accept to be the beginnings of love.

Haruno and I dance over the wooden floor of my sparsely decorated living room, my feet dragging over the smooth grain as we spin, as I see the TV give way to the balcony door, then to my gray sofa, then to the small hallway that leads to my bedroom, the dining table that has four chairs around it that I still can’t believe will no longer be perennially empty, and finally my speedbag and weights rack before we spin yet again.

I never learned to dance. I am just following her lead.

Like maybe I should’ve been doing all along.

Our bodies are tangled, brushing against one another, a slight layer of sweat building up not because of our exertions, but because of our closeness.

She’s, as always, breathtaking.

And this is unique. Unrepeatable.

And something that, if I have my way, if I don’t screw it up, if I don’t manage to sour it like every other time I’ve felt like this… Something that we’ll do again and again, until the day we’re gray and old, and we can only laugh at the childish exuberance of our past selves rather than keep at it. Until the day we can sit together, our hands clasped, and feel content that we had a life full of these precious, unique, unrepeatable moments.

She’s loved me for years. I… I can hope.

Her cheek is warm against mine, her chin lightly resting over my shoulder, her voice a caress as full as that of her naked breasts, bare thighs, deft hands.

“Don’t cry. I’m here. I’ll stay here,” she says.

I don’t cry. But just because she asks me not to.

And then a kiss gets added to our dance, yet another rhythm added to that of my beating heart as she pushes me back, and we end up in my bedroom.

She pushes yet again, and I topple over my bed, dragging her with me, the mattress bouncing with our weight as she settles on top of me, taking that mounted position she decried earlier.

Our fingers are still interlaced.

“I… I could act smug, tell you that I win, but… But I’m here, with you. After… I dreamed about this, Shizu. I dreamed about you accepting me, saying you loved me, and I would wake up from those dreams… Wake up. So… Yes. Yes, I win. Because this is… this is one of the very few things I ever cared to win, to earn. And... and I hope you are also… that it’s a win for you too?”

There’s no trace of her mask.

This is Haruno.

Raw, bare.

Genuine.

So I pull on her hands so she falls forward. Her center of gravity is slightly over mine, but not as much as it would be if she knew what she was doing, so I bend my legs to firmly plant my feet on the mattress, hooking my left ankle to keep her right leg in place before I shift my hips below her and push to the left and up.

Haruno lets out an undignified squeal as she spins to end up on her back, with me above her and between her legs, my face lower than hers, almost right over her breasts.

“Yes. Yes, I win,” I tell her, my voice yet again hot and growling before I dive down and finally take into my mouth one of those pink nipples that have been driving me crazy with her every exaggerated, sweeping gesture.

She moans, throatily and without any hint of trying to hold back, and her back arches to push her chest against me. Against my lips, my tongue.

I’ve never been with a girl before.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

“Shizu…” she moans, her voice a soft purr that makes the short hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

… All right, I mayhave a slight idea.

I squeeze her right hand as I let go of the left one, and I trail the tips of my fingers over the inside of her arm, feeling the toned muscles shift. She isn’t bulky, not by any means, but her grip is the one thing she’s trained over and over through the years.

I would make an almost profound remark about how it shows she never wanted to let go, but… That’s been made painfully obvious since I let myself notice it.

So I keep kissing her left breast, keep twirling my tongue around her stiff nipple as my free hand finds its twin, and Haruno’s legs wrap around me, her ankles hooking behind my lower back like she’s asking me to penetrate her.

Good instincts. Hachiman will appreciate them.

Still, while I’m not Hachiman…

I move to the center line of her body, leaving a trail of peppering kisses on her quivering breast as I do so before I tighten my grasp on her right one slightly, just hard enough that I hear her sharp inhalation, and then I turn aside and languorously kiss it as if it was her lips, her soft flesh yielding to my touch and probing tongue as Haruno’s legs travel up and down my sides and her shoulders writhe on top of my lilac covers, the sheets bunching around her, tracing her silhouette in wrinkles and furrows.

I close my eyes for a moment, just taking in her scent, her wearing lavender perfume, of all things, and I once again tighten my hold on her stretched hand. Then the one I just freed comes up and lies on my head, tenderly caressing me, her fingers parting my long hair and tracing tingling, heart-clenching lines above my ears, over my nape, on my temples…

Just… I am kissing her breasts, caressing them, lying on top of her body.

And she just plays with my hair and makes me melt.

She’s never been fair, has she?

I go back to the middle line of her body, to lay a wet kiss on her breastbone before dragging myself down the soft line between muscle that’ not evident but still there, still toned and jumping at my first kiss above it.

Her hand goes from caressing to grabbing a fistful of long hair and wrapping it around her wrist as I hear something almost mournful leave her lips, and I kiss around her navel on my way down, past it as I feel her hand tighten her hold on mine and I pull her breast up until her nipple slides into my grasp.

“You… You don’t have to…” she protests.

I almost don’t hear it.

Because…

This isn’t lavender.

Her scent is heady, penetrating. Something that goes straight from my nostrils to the haze around my brain and from there right to the pooling heat between my legs.

I can’t help it: I squirm, rub my thighs together.

There’s… There’s always been something about this, about being so near to someone being so open and vulnerable and taking in what they smell like…

Hachiman made me drenched.

He could bottle that up, spray it around, and I would be unable to do anything other than crawl on all fours and nuzzle his crotch, wordlessly begging him to take me…

Iroha seems to appreciate it, but… It’s not that debilitating. Something she likes, rather than something she needs.

And I was so afraid I wouldn’t feel like this with a woman…

But here I am, just… just barely above Haruno’s sex, above the wet trail of sparse dark hair pointing toward her sex, and I can feel my pupils dilating as I take her in, as her essence comes inside my lungs and tries to coax a needy whimper out of my throat.

I wanted to be sensual and delicate. To nibble the inside of her thighs, circling around her lips as she got ready for me, giving her small teases along the way until she begged me to dive right in and take her.

I can’t.

Barely holding on, I flatten my tongue and lick up the patch of glistening skin on her right thigh until I reach the taut tendon joining leg and pelvis, and I flick it with my pointed tongue as sparks go behind my eyelids at Haruno’s taste finally being inside me.

It’s… slightly citric, in a way that makes me think of the Earl Grey tea she often drinks rather than the Japanese varieties. Bergamot, she told me. That was the addition that made it have the slight tang.

I take a fold of her outer lips between mine and suck.

“Shizu! Ah, fuck, Shizu!”

The hand tangled around my hair pulls.

Toward her. Not away.

And, with her juices pooling over my tongue, that’s the last thing I hear before I just dive.

My nose is over her clitoris, rubbing on and around it. It’s hard to breathe, and every lungful carries more of Haruno, more of that maddening scent that makes me hunger for her even as my tongue keeps scraping every single one of her folds and dipping inside her, spooning out her juices as fast as she can make them as Haruno’s voice reaches me not in words, but in a litany, a melody that just adds to my trance, my need.

I… I’ve so rarely felt so intensely for someone…

I push away the intrusive thought, and it’s easy. Because Haruno’s naked, writhing, her thighs around my head surrounding me with warm softness and closing off all air that doesn’t carry traces of her.

I let go of her breast, and she moans, and it breaks my heart, but I just…

I just can’t.

Because I need that hand, I need to touch myself, to bring some… some measure of relief to the burning need inside me, to the beating, clenching heat between my thighs that keeps weeping molten tears every time I lick Haruno and she answers, either with a moan, a writhing, feline body, or a tug on my hair.

I am still wearing my panties. That’s stupid. I don’t need panties, I need—

Ah, fuck!

I almost jump off the bed when I finally touch myself, when I feel my fingers drag over the top of my clitoris after peeling the wet satin away, and… and moving further?

I whimper into Haruno’s sex, and her hips jerk up, the hand on my hair trembling as her weight rests on her shoulders and feet.

I can’t. I just can’t. Not anymore.

Almost violently, feeling the sharp pull on my hair, I lean back, away from her sex, and I look at her with blurry eyes, barely able to distinguish the red spreading over her chest and cheeks as she looks at me with the kind of need I feel right now.

So I stand up and take my panties off, barely managing not to trip when my feet touch the floor rather than the mattress.

And then I throw myself on top of her, holding myself above her with hands on each side of her shoulders, my hanging breasts on top of hers, my legs between hers.

I lower myself, and I devour her.

Her tongue meets me as eagerly as I search for it, and we both tangle around one another as I share her taste with her, and her hands claw down my back until she reaches my ass and she grabs it, pushing me to my right so her left thigh is between mine and mine is between hers.

Then she pulls me down, and I can feel her wet heat on my skin as she tilts her hips up, and I feel hard muscle pressing up against me, against my burning need.

And, following the rhythm her hands set for me, I rub myself on her body, each up and down motion making my eyelids clench shut and a whimper nest in my throat.

“Love you… Love you so much…. Need you…” she says as she peppers kisses on the side of my neck and squeezes my cheeks, kneading the muscles between those long fingers I always felt guilty about admiring but that are now on me.

“Haruno…” I try to speak, to give her something besides my desperate need and craving, besides the maddened desire I’ve finally let out after years of pretending it didn’t exist, that I didn’t feel what I thought I shouldn’t feel.

I can’t.

I grab her face, her burning cheeks on my palms as her eyes snap to mine, almost as feverish as I know I look right now.

I tell her.

I try to tell her.

“Haruno…” I whine. And that’s about the only thing I manage as she pulls me down. Hard, the crashing of our bodies reverberating up to our touching breasts.

Her eyes widen before they soften, and something akin to wonder goes over them.

“You… You really do…” she says. Because she’s Haruno.

Because she’ll always find it hard to believe, no matter from whom it comes.

But she can recognize it.

The yearning, the need, the naked affection.

The love.

The love I feel for her.

Haruno sees it, recognizes it, and her eyes close in a joyous smile that is just enough to finally make me go over, to feel the flash of lightning shoot up from where she presses up against my sex as my body and mind roar until my thoughts flee, and only sensation and feeling remain.

And all of them center around Haruno.

Haruno, writhing beneath me until her body jerks into still, quivering release, her eyes opening yet unseeing, her moans cut off into something sharp and inaudible, just like my own even as I desperately try to keep looking at her until I can’t stand it anymore and the pleasure of being with her overwhelms me.

For a single, eternal moment, I just… stop.

And, when I come to, I’m lying on top of my former student, my face nuzzled between her breasts as she playfully twirls her fingers around my hair, a pillow beneath her head letting her look at me with eyes so tender it hurts to look at.

She forces herself to incorporate slightly with what seems to be titanic effort, and she kisses the crown of my head.

“I win,” she whispers.

“We do,” I agree.

And she laughs, and her laughter is something free, unburdened, something I haven’t heard from her before. Something genuine. Unique.

Unrepeatable.

And I can’t wait till I hear it again.