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Toji rubs slow, coaxing circles around into the slick, swampy patch of hair on top of her sex until she whines and trembles again, her body a tense, wanting arch against him. She barely makes a sound, her mouth open and desperately gasping for air, but he feels it when the coil within her breaks again, the quiet thundering of pleasure crashing down on her. Her thighs shake, the hand she keeps buried in his hair curls into a fist again, pulling hard but not unkindly at his scalp. The muted ache of it tingles down his spine, feeding the stunted grind of his hips into hers. He milks her last climax from her as he grows soft inside her, wrapped in the soiled case of the condom she already made him fill up to the brim. She always gets to come more than he does; he likes to make sure of that.
Once the orgasmic twitching dies down, he pulls his hand away, running his fingers along the place where she still swallows him and then upward again, stroking her belly up to her navel, smearing their mess on her skin. She sighs, contently nuzzling backwards into him, her body growing mellow and heavy like warm sand in his arms. Only then he allows himself to go fully lax alongside her, unwilling to part and dissolve the moist barrier of sweat lining the edge where their bodies touch.
He holds her the same way he fucked her — indulgently, from behind, drinking in every reaction of her body to his touch. She releases her grip on his hair, her gentle hand soothingly stroking his scalp. A reward rather than an apology. She doesn't need to apologise for giving him what he needs. He likes it when she's rough with him. He likes to be gentle with her, despite her taunting about how condescending his restraint feels. He lets her complain about it. She doesn't know just how careful he feels he needs to be simply not to hurt her. He takes care not because she's fragile, but because she's precious.
He leans into the touch of her hand as it strokes the side of his face, feeding off the reassurance it offers. He can't be good for her so he likes to know he's been at least good to her. He fits his face in the slope of her shoulder and kisses her neck, nosing at her skin, nuzzling against her pulse. He hears the smile in her breathing without having to see it.
Without her soft moaning the sounds of the apartment slowly become more noticeable. The buzzing of the ancient refrigerator where their dinner sits, the drip of moisture from the faucet he's going to have to fix again later, the crackling of a lightbulb about to give out somewhere, the scuttling of a cockroach behind the kitchen cabinets, the humming of electricity encased within the bones of the building. He doubts her ears can hear even half of it, which is just fine. Holding her unperturbed is its own kind of bliss. He's content with lying there and letting her swim in her afterglow even if his own dispels faster.
He senses her discomfort even before she stirs. Her skin is cooling, rising into goosebumps, and the stretch to accomodate him wihin her has clearly grown from soothing to uncomfortable. He anticipates her, unwinding his limbs from hers.
She sighs. "Clean up?" she suggests.
He approves with a soft, parting kiss to her damp temple. She stretches, her back arching with a shiver as he slowly pulls out.
"Mmh. Feels like we made a mess back there," she chuckles, saucily.
The surge of tenderness for her stops short in his chest when he realises just how much of a mess there is that shouldn't be leaking onto his fingers. He freezes, jaw clenched when realization settles under his skin.
"What? What's wrong?" she asks when she sees his face.
"It broke," he chews out, mentally retracing all the wrong steps that brought him there.
He realises he can't quite remember how long that box of condoms has been sitting in the nightstand. They admittedly don't use them very often — not for lack of precaution, just for lack of occasions that would require them. She likes his mouth and his fingers just fine and he likes pleasing her as much as he likes saving money for other things. That's why he bought the cheap stuff and for that he can only blame himself.
And he stayed inside her for such a long time too.
"I'll get you a pill," he says, balling up the broken piece of crap into a tissue and tossing it into the trashcan like it scalded his hands. He's mentally figuring out the way to the nearest pharmacy. He won't be trying to save money on this purchase, that's for sure.
He makes a move to get up but she grabs his arm to hold him back. He isn't expecting her to be looking at him like that. Amused. Only vaguely incredulous. All the blame that lacks in her eyes is jabbed in his chest instead. Her reaction gives him pause.
"You're in such a rush," she lovingly mocks him. "Didn't we talk about this just last month?"
They did talk about it, the possibility floating between then, seeping into the room like spring breeze, the stem of chance blooming into pleasant musing. A whim, however shared, and nothing more. They talked about the only healthy form that choice could take. She doesn't know about everything else that would come with it. He didn't think she would need to know about all the rot that stretches through his family tree. She doesn't know how bad of a branch he is.
"Not this," Toji gets out through a dry throat. "This is an accident."
She huffs at him, amicably dismissive. "This is a chance," she retorts. She's light as a feather; he feels so burdened it surprises him when she manages to lift his hands to her lips. "Wanna take it?" she asks.
It hits him that he didn't ask her the same thing.
"You want to risk it?" he asks.
"Why not? You look like a lucky guy to me," she says and winks at him. "I think you just got pretty lucky, no?"
When he doesn't react, she huffs and flops back down on the bed. She raises her hand to his face, pinky outstretched. "Let's make it a bet," she proposes. "If it's a girl like you want, I get to pick the name. And she won't grow up to be like whoever fucked you up this bad."
He feels like he can't feel the ground beneath his feet, his head spins, his whole world spins with him. But he remains seated on the futon.
He looks at her — relaxed, happy, unafraid — and deep down he knows he is never going to be brave enough to feel like that even once. But when he looks at her he thinks he might like to be.
He takes a breath. It barely steadies him. He feels like this is the only real risk he's ever taken in his life. He stopped gambling when she asked him to move in with her. He told Shiu to look for someone else or risk his life trying to contact him again if he has a job. He never truly had anything to lose before. Now it's different. He has everything to gain. And he might not be strong enough not to throw in his dice.
He looks at her outstretched finger.
"You're sure about this?" He asks.
She grins back at him. "I'm feeling pretty lucky myself."
"Still hoping for a 'Megumi', then?"
"Always."
His shoulders drop. He hooks his little finger with hers.
He should have known not to trust his luck.