Chapter Text
“Are you sure im not.. intruding?” Nishi’s soft voice asked, her eyes scanning the familiar house. Shes been here multiple times, yet she still feels like a burden entering.
“Well, duh! i wouldnt want to leave you hanging out in the cold, girl.”
The storm hadnt been going on for long, yet it was already raging. And it would be for hours. Nishi watched the flakes assault the window in chaos, her arms wrapped tight around her knees.
They were alone. Completely alone. Yamada's parents had called an hour ago—stranded at his aunt's house across town, which the storm had hit earlier at. The roads impassable, advising them to hunker down for the night. The knowledge sat heavy in Nishi's chest, a fluttering bird of anxiety that wouldn't settle.
"Hey." Yamada's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. He dropped onto the floor beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. "Chill. We’re inside.”
"I know. I’m just..Nervous?" she wasn’t even sure herself.
"What for?" He bumped her shoulder with his, grinning when she was startled. ".We're just... here. Together. That's not so scary, is it?"
No, actually. That was the most terrifying part. Nishi liked being alone with Yamada, she did. But the air tonight was implying a possible step between the two, which she identified the second she stepped into his house..
She wanted to say yes, that it was terrifying, that being alone with him in his empty house made her heart pound so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. But he was looking at her with those open, patient eyes, and she found herself shaking her head instead.
"Good." He pulled a deck of cards from seemingly nowhere..typical Yamada, prepared for nothing and everything all at once. "Then teach me that game you mentioned. The one Suzuki taught you at the library?"
Nishi nodded. They played for an hour, maybe two. Nishi didnt exactly explain the game well, however, Yamada caught onto the rules fairly quick, despite his girlfriend being a poor instructor, which was odd, because she could explain just about everything fine, but it’s safe to assume the storm has her mind running through the place.
Time blurred as Yamada threw himself into learning the rules with his usual enthusiastic incompetence, making deliberate mistakes just to hear her laugh. And she did laugh, despite herself, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and surprised. He noticed every time, his eyes lighting up, tracking her face like she was the most fascinating thing in the room.
"I know i told you a million bajillion times, but..your laugh is cute," he said casually, discarding a card. "You should do it more."
"I—" She ducked her head, cheeks burning. "Kentaro.." she mumbled his name. She couldn’t get used to the compliments and occasional worship from Yamada.
"Aw come on." He reached out without hesitation, his fingers brushing her jaw, tilting her face up until she met his gaze. "You know I like everything about you, Natsumi. Even the parts you try to hide."
The sincerity in his voice undid something in her chest. He'd said things like this before, casual declarations that usually crushed her. But now, alone in the storm's embrace, the words felt different. Heavier. Laden with possibility.
Yeah, she was right. She knew where this would go.
"Kentaro."
He leaned in, and she froze—old habits, the instinct to retreat, to protect herself from the vulnerability of being seen. But he paused, millimeters away, giving her time. Always time. His breath ghosted across her lips, warm and smelling faintly of the cinnamon tea they'd shared earlier.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, "and I will. No questions. No hurt feelings."
She should. The part of her that overthought every interaction, that crafted perfect responses in her head only to deliver stilted half-sentences aloud, that voice screamed at her to pull away, to maintain the walls she'd spent years constructing.
But the storm raged, and the power flickered, and his eyes held nothing but patience and want, and she was so tired of being afraid.
"Don't stop," she breathed.
He closed the distance.
His mouth was softer than she'd imagined, gentle pressure that coaxed rather than demanded. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like the storm outside had frozen time itself just for them. When she didn't pull back, when she actually leaned into him with a small, needy sound she didn't recognize as her own, he deepened the kiss. His tongue tracing the seam of her lips, asking permission with every movement.
She opened for him, and the intimacy of it made her dizzy. His hand slid from her jaw to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, anchoring her as the kiss grew hungrier. She clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, and he followed her lead without hesitation, guiding her down until she was lying back against the floor, him hovering above her on one elbow.
"Okay?" he asked between kisses, mapping her jaw, her throat, the sensitive spot below her ear that made her gasp.
"Yes," she managed, arching when his hand found her waist, slipping beneath her sweater to trace the curve of her hip. "I'm okay. I want—"
"Tell me," he encouraged, voice rough against her collarbone. "Tell me exactly what you want, Natsumi. I need to hear it."
The directness should have terrified her. Instead, it freed her. "I want you to touch me. Please. Kentaro, please—"
He groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin as his hand slid higher, palming her breast through the thin fabric of her bra. She whimpered at the contact, and he immediately gentled his grip, watching her face with that devastating focus of his.
"Too much?"
"No—it's—" She bit her lip as he thumbed her nipple, sensation shooting straight to her core. "More. Please, more."
He stripped her slowly, treating every revealed inch of skin like a gift. Her sweater came off first, folded carefully and set aside—Yamada being Yamada even as his eyes darkened with hunger. Her bra followed, and he paused to look at her, actually look, his gaze tracing her breasts with something like reverence.
"You're beautiful," he said, simple and true, and kissed the hollow of her throat, her sternum, the slope of each breast until she was squirming beneath him. When he finally took her nipple into his mouth, the wet heat of it made her cry out, her hands flying to his hair, not to pull him away, but to keep him there, anchored, as he suckled and licked and drove her slowly insane.
"Kentaro—" She was panting now, embarrassingly loud, but he seemed to love it, groaning against her skin and grinding his hips down where she could feel the hard outline of him through his jeans.
"Natsumi..," he murmured, moving to her other breast, fingers teasing the wet peak he'd abandoned. "Don't hold back with me. I want everything."
She tried to warn him when his hand moved to the button of her jeans, but the words came out as a stuttered moan instead. He paused, fingers hovering, searching her face.
"Yes?"
"Yes," she confirmed, lifting her hips to help him. "I want you inside me. Please."
*Did i really just say that?!*
The curse that slipped from his lips was the first unguarded thing she'd heard from him, and it sent a thrill through her, proof that she affected him, that his patience had limits after all. He stripped her jeans and underwear off in one motion, then paused to look at her, fully naked beneath him, and the naked want in his expression made her feel powerful in a way she never had before.
"You're sure?" he asked, even now, even with his control clearly fraying. "We don't have to—"
"I'm sure." She reached for his hand, guiding it between her legs, gasping when his fingers found her wet.
He kissed her fiercely then, all pretense of gentleness stripped away as he worked her with his fingers. Circling her clit, that was often neglected due to Nishi’s lack of body exploration. His fingers dipping inside to test her readiness, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan. She was trembling, overwrought, tears pricking her eyes from the sheer intensity of being touched with such focused intent.
"You're so wet," he groaned against her mouth. "So ready for me. Fuck, Natsumi—"
"Please," she begged, not caring how she sounded, how desperate. "Please, now—"
He stripped quickly, efficiently, and she got her first look at him—lean muscle and tan skin and the hard length of him jutting proudly from a thatch of dark hair. He caught her looking and smiled, something self-conscious flickering across his features for the first time.
"Tell me if it's too much," he said, settling between her legs, guiding himself to her entrance. "I'll go slow."
He did. Excruciatingly slow. The stretch of him entering her was intense, burning in a way that bordered on too much, but he watched her face with every millimeter, stopping, adjusting, kissing her tears away when they spilled over despite her best efforts.
"You're doing so well," he praised, voice strained, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of his restraint. "So tight. Mmm—. Breathe for me—Hah..... just..Relax."
She focused on his voice, on the steady pressure of him inside her, and gradually the burn shifted to pleasure, her body adjusting around his girth until she was arching her hips, seeking more.
"Move," she whispered. "Kentaro. Move."
He started slow, shallow thrusts that gradually deepened as her nails dug into his back, urging him on. The angle was perfect—each stroke dragging against that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids. He shifted his weight to one arm, the other sliding between them to find her clit, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
"Is this good?" he asked, though her moans should have been answer enough. "Tell me what you need."
"Harder," she gasped, shocking herself. "Please, harder—"
He obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force, the sound of skin on skin filling the room alongside her cries. She was being loud, so loud, but she couldn't stop, not with him filling her so perfectly, not with his fingers working her clit with the same intuitive understanding he applied to everything.
"You're close," he observed, wonder in his voice. "I can feel you tightening around me.”
His words tipped her over. She came with a cry that was almost a scream, her body convulsing around him, pleasure crashing through her in waves that seemed endless. He kept fucking her through it, selfishly however, chasing his own release. the added sensitivity almost too much, until he finally groaned her name and buried himself deep, pulsing inside her as he orgasmed.
They stayed like that for long moments, joined and shaking, his forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling. When he finally pulled out, he did it carefully, immediately gathering her close, arranging the discarded blankets over them, tucking her against his chest where she could hear his thundering heartbeat.
"Okay?" he asked, the same question, the same genuine concern.
She nodded, unable to speak, and pressed closer, listening to the storm rage outside while she lay safe in his arms.