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He couldn't do it anymore. He knew Kasuga was within earshot like he was at all times. He knew that it would likely be improper and his sheets would be burned in the morning after his transgressions were discovered. He might even incur a punishment. But he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand it anymore. She'd been so close recently, lips mere millimetres away from his own. Her soft body had been on top of his even if only for a few moments. She smelled so nice, the fragrance of her shampoo tickling his nose. Her eyelashes were so long, casting soft shadows on her cheeks. He couldn't stand it anymore.
He started off just gently rubbing his hand over his pajama bottoms, gently. As if he were just adjusting himself. Nothing odd for a young man of his standing to do in his bed. Hardly even moved the top sheet of his bed cover. But he couldn't bring himself to stop when the first shiver came across him. It wasn't the first time he'd felt that shiver, that warm chill feeling. But this was the first time a face flashed behind his mind when it came over him. He moved his hand again, harder this time. His groin was hot to the touch, even over the thin fabric of his cotton trousers. He wondered what Yuri would say should her slender pretty hand, nails bedazzled with bright polish, brushed over it like that. Kei could see the blush on her face in his mind's eye as if it were right in front of him. He bit his lip. A little more couldn't hurt.
It could. It could hurt.
He'd never made this sort of decision before so he was unsure of the consequences it could incur, but he was growing so hard that it hurt now, in the moment. He weighed his pros and cons. He could continue to hold back from everything like he always did, the way he held back from kissing her sweet lips or even touching her innocently as much as he wanted to. Or he could allow himself this moment, this moment of relative privacy in his room, to get some of his tension out of his body and allow him to regain some semblance of his mind back. It was an easy decision to come to.
The first direct contact with his skin was underwhelming. The skin felt like that of everywhere else on his body but hotter and firmer. He wasn't sure what it was he was expecting but he still found himself somewhat disappointed. But when he allowed his mind to wonder and think of his hand as his beautiful girlfriend's, his body shivered. He could see her so clearly. The round of her eyes and the rosy blush on her face, the excitement knitted in her eyebrows from being able to even touch him like that. His fingers began stroking his length without thought and slowly it began to feel better, a gentle static-like pleasure slowly coming over him.
Dare he imagine it? A kiss from her. They'd come so close that day under strict gag order in the subway. He'd almost lost his strict discipline and rational when his thumb had brushed against her lips. Oh, her lips. He did his best not to stare when she spoke to him, to make appropriate eye contact, but she loved to wear balms that made them shine like jewels and tack together ever so slightly when she spoke. His brow creased, a light wave of shuddering warmth crashing over him at the slowly increasing pace of pumps his loose fist made. How would they feel against his? Soft, plump, well-moisturised. Maybe the balms would make the kiss sweet, or perhaps her saliva tasted sweet all on its own. How he longed for it, the opportunity to kiss her soundly the way he wanted to, to bring her close against his body with both hands as their tongues greeted each other like old friends, embracing. Those kisses would be her firsts the same way they would be his. He couldn't help but imagine the squeak and soft gasps of her trying to gasp for air in between the quiet smacks of their lips together. Oh, he would kiss her until her lips were puffy and red, until her eyes were glazed with fog when they finally opened them up again to look at each other. His loose fist tightened as he continued to stroke.
She'd probably be messy after such sound kissing, perhaps a little drool down her chin. Just the act of wiping it away with his thumb would be erotic. If he could actually get his hands on her, touch her handedly after all this time, he couldn't imagine he'd find the presence of mind to be gentle. He'd probably tear at her school blouse knowing he could just acquire her another. He wouldn't be able to waste the seconds or nanoseconds it would take to gently undo her buttons. What did her bras look like? Yuri seemed like the kind of girl to wear cute patterns like polka dots with frills around the cup. His mind was overrun with olfactory hallucinations of her scent emanating from the skin around her heart as if his nose was right then buried deep in her cleavage. She'd squirm from the moist heat of his heavy breathing against her skin, the heavy breathing currently being absorbed by his pillow while he furiously pleasured himself, no longer being able to keep his movements covert enough to avoid moving his duvet from underneath. His own quiet gasps reached his ears but he found himself imagining that they were hers in response to him pulling down her bra cups, being too impatient to remove it properly, and littering kisses and licks over her breasts. She would be so cute. He knew she'd make such cute noises at the sensation of her pink nubs in his mouth, licked and nibbled at with ferocious tenderness. He couldn't bear to leave it just there though, not even in his fantasy.
His imaginary self tore at the rest of her clothes, leaving her in her panties and nothing else. When his 18th birthday came within the next 100 or so days, he liked to think that he would savour the sight of her below him, trying and failing to cover her beautiful body with oddly placed hands and arms, but he couldn't stop himself in the moment from slipping off her underwear and hastily checking that she was wet enough to go further. He could feel himself shuddering and shivering under his covers, the warmth he was doused in not because of the thermostat but the desperate pumping of his fist and macchinations of his mind. His gasps were open-mouthed, bordering on small moans, as the version of him in his mind hurriedly playing with her insides with the same fingers that were normally forbidden for being able to touch her hands. She was warm and wet, sticky and yet slippery somehow at the same time. In his hands, his shaft was becoming something similar, throbbing gently agaisnt his palm. The simulations of her moans echoing inside his head just made him harder, the lobes of his pale ears turning red. He would kiss her soundly again, messily, desperately, until she made some kind of squeal that made him feel like he couldn't wait any longer should he want to keep his sanity in tact.
His fantasy self clumsily, hastily, shuffled out of whatever trousers he was wearing and fumbled on a condom he'd had at the ready pulled of who knows where—not that it mattered. He lined himself up with her puffy bottom lips, her legs spread a little as if to welcome him, and slowy made his way inside with a small crook of his hips. Kei moaned softly into his sheets as if the warmth of her flesh had actually burned through the silicone of the contraceptive barrier to meet his skin as the lip of his tightened fist rubbed against the neck of his shaft. He had no doubt that the sensation of being inside her would melt his brain until it poured out of both ears. He was getting close imagining the soft plaps of their hips meeting, the bottom of her thighs to the front of his, and the symphony of pleasured noises from her mouth. Would she cry from how good it felt? It had been so satisfying to see her tear up about not being able to see him on the train; he couldn't begin to imagine how much satisfaction he would be able to attain from making her cry from sexual pleasure he was able to give her.
As he could feel himself reaching the point of no return and that fantasy version of himself did the same, his small gasps and moans became larger, more desperate ones, moans that betrayed what he had initially pretended he wasn't doing in his bed alone despite the fact that he was probably under surveillance now the same way he always was. The wild, stuttering thrusting of his hips under his duvet matched those his fantasy self made into her. A stifled cry came from his mouth alongside a hiss as he realised his limit was so close, so close he could have reached out and touched it.
"Yu…ri…" Both versions of himself half-moaned, half-whispered her name, the version in his mind having the coveted opportunity to do so in her ear. She wrapped her arms around him, those arms that he had only managed to be embraced by a number of times he could count on one hand, but the warmth of that touch came upon him now and he couldn't stand it. He thrust harder, deeper, as if aiming to reach her naval from the inside, keeping their bodies entangled as soundly as he could while he moved until white light flashed behind his eyes.
"Hah…I'm c—"
He didn't manage to even finish his declaration to no one in particular, to the girl he loved underneath him in his fantasies, before he spilled all over his hand onto his sheets, spasming as he rode out the peak of his stolen pleasure. His heart thundered in his chest all the way through and slowed as he started to come down to reality. His breathing was ragged and his mind spun as he allowed himself to at least kiss the Yuri in his mind one more time, stroking her sweat-soaked fringe away from her eyes. He missed her. There hadn't been much time to see her recently. As if he ever saw her in a quantity that felt like enough. He stared at the mess he'd made staining his palm. He quietly brought his trousers back up with his clean hand before using a tissue from his bedside table to wipe up the uncomfortably warm fluid. He could see Kasuga's face now, embarrassed to have heard it all but perhaps a little proud to see that he was growing to become somewhat of a normal teenage boy. He sighed. Tomorrow would be another busy day. But at least he'd get to see Yuri.