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Love Like This

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 December 2018

This is the dumbest shit, Kaori thought as she pulled the hoodie over her head. She had also dressed in her baggiest sweatpants and a pair of sneakers. If her coach knew about this, she’d be skewered.

She hunched as she scurried out of her hotel room and down the hall, peering around corners for Japanese media. She was nearly spotted by a cadre and spent a good five minutes pressed against the wall. When they passed she puffed out a breath of relief and continued on her way. The elevators were daunting, and she practically hid her face in her hands as they went a few floors up. She hurried down the hallway to the room she was looking for and knocked.

Kaori did not wait long for that ridiculous mess of hair and those beautiful, wide, dark eyes to open the door. It was like the sun shone in his face when he looked at her, though he didn’t smile. It made her feel warm all over.

“Let me in,” she poked him in the shoulder.

He made a face at her but held the door open so she could enter. She came in, pried her shoes off, and put them to the side. She was unsurprised by the mess of things thrown thither and hither, including shoes, underwear, and a plushie. Kaori hopped through the mess, like Western hopscotch, and sat on the edge of the bed.

Then the thing she’d been dreading. Shoeless and barefoot, he turned and limped to the bed. It hurt, seeing someone so graceful and powerful unable to walk in his quiet, albeit commanding way. His right ankle was bound with ace bandage, and his face creased, just a little, from pain. That’s when she knew how bad it was.

He was dressed plainly in a black long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. He sat next to her with a relieved sigh. She put her arm around him. He leaned against her, pressing his face into her chest.

“That’s not how you say hello, Shoma-kun,” she laughed.

She took his face in her hands and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips, running her thumb over the beauty marks on the left side of his face. He closed his eyes, and she could tell, despite his victory, he was tired. It was such a contrast to the golden elation she felt and it made her wonder how two people could stay together if they were so different at times.

He straightened and prodded her shoulder.

“Why aren’t you at the banquet?” he asked. “You should be there.”

“I am with my boyfriend because he needs me, silly,” she said, and all her questions evaporated.

He looked startled and then scratched the back of his neck. Roses bloomed along his jaw.

“Aaah, is my Shoma embarrassed?”

Kaori bumped him with her shoulder.

“I’m not . . .” Shoma mumbled.

“Not what?” she asked when he didn’t finish.

He shook his head.

“You shouldn’t skip the banquet for me.

“I would skip any banquet for you. Do you think you’re not worth it?”

He bowed his head.

“Well, you’re worth it. Banquets are boring anyways.”

Silence. Shoma looked guilty now.

“Don’t feel sorry for yourself Uno-san, three time National Champion. I have something for you anyways.”

He perked.

“Oh do you?” he smirked just a little, and she almost threw herself right in his arms.

Sex with Shoma wasn’t all fireworks, but it was good. She liked that. She had been with older men, far older, and it had felt like fireworks and bright light, but when the men got what they wanted, they discarded her. Shoma wasn’t like that. He was deliberate, attentive. He was the first man who made her feel safe. And that was far better than fireworks.

Instead she got up. She’d thought of this earlier, when she decided not to attend the banquet, and felt it might cheer Shoma up.

“I’m going to striptease for you.”

Shoma looked alarmed. She almost laughed.

“You don’t have to.”

“No. Just sit back and watch.”

She stayed still for a minute, building the anticipation. Then she began to jiggle in her hoodie, making boombox noises as she did.

“Boom bacha boom bacha boom!”

She undulated.

“Boom BOOM bow chicka bow bow!”

She slowly took off her hoodie while looking exaggeratedly at Shoma. She flung her hoodie at him and missed. It sailed onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. All she’d revealed was her purple long-sleeved henley.

“Oh baby,” she said, writhing around making faces.

Then she heard it: that squeaky laugh of his, which he only did when he was really humored by something. His nose crinkled in that endearing way of his.

She laughed too, from relief, that she could alleviate some of his pain.

“This is why I love you,” he said.

She took a sharp breath. Neither of them had said they loved each other. Not like that. They had said they liked each other, loved spending time together. But not dai suki da yo. Though they had been dating for seven months, it frightened her a little. Shoma would never say something like that unless he meant it, down to his marrow.

“Come here,” he said.

She came and he made room for her between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her. He was stronger than he looked. It was reassuring. Kaori stroked his hair.

“You love me?” she heard the tremor in her own voice and didn’t think it a weakness.

Shoma looked at her with those beautiful dark eyes and nodded. He was smiling.

Kaori started to cry. Softness was strength to her. And now, though she was afraid, it opened her, like an oyster, exposing the tender meat inside. It made her brave enough to stay with him, rather than running away.

Shoma pulled her down into bed next to him, face to face on their left sides, and stroked her hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I don’t know how to describe what I feel for you,” she said.

“That’s fine.”

He rubbed his nose against hers. She giggled.

She curled against him: the solid warmth of his chest, his heart beating against her ear. She ran her hand over him, idly, feeling his broad shoulders, his sides, rubbing his thigh. He ran his finger around the curve of her ear.

“I hate that you sprained your ankle.”

He shrugged.

“Don’t you just shrug at me! I’m your girlfriend! You’re supposed to tell me things.”

“What do want me to say? It is what it is. Telling you won’t change it.”

“But doesn’t it make you mad?”

“Yes, I fucking hate it, but I can’t do anything. Except sit around,” he said sarcastically. “At least nothing was broken by my carelessness.”

“Accidents happen. We all get injured.”

She ran her palm down his jaw and kissed him. He returned the kiss, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her against him, her chest pressed to his chest, their bellies together, thighs brushing.

She liked this, being against him, rubbing together, kissing. Chaste kisses at first, but then she nibbled his lower lip, enjoying how he shuddered. He parted his lips for her and she sucked the tip of his tongue, grazing it with her teeth. His grip around her tightened and he thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth. She squirmed happily, enjoying the heat, how the movement mimicked a cock penetrating her. She began to get wet.

She ran her hand over his ass and squeezed as he fumbled with the buttons on her henley.

“Why are girls’ buttons so small?” he groused.

She laughed and unbuttoned the henley herself. He huffed, but then pulled one flap aside and began sucking just below the collar of her shirt. She moaned at the heat, the pain, the pleasure, clawing at his back. She moved her hand, cupping his stiffening cock. She fondled him through his sweatpants as he sucked a mark on the other side.

“Stop,” she panted.

He looked quizzical, but then she sat up and took her shirt off.

“I thought you weren’t wearing a bra,” Shoma said rather smugly.

He reached up and circled one of her light brown nipples with his thumb.

“You’d better do more with it than that,” Kaori said.

It was his turn to sit, cautiously with his ankle, and he looked up at her as he sucked her nipple.

“Mmmm,” she said, burying her fingers in his hair as little waves of heat radiated through her body.

Maybe I do love him. But the thought was probably the result of passion, so she ignored it for now. There would be time to investigate it later.

She slid her fingers under his shirt and began to tug. He let got of her nipple so she could pull his shirt off. She leaned over and licked one of his nipples before sucking it. He lay back, which made it easier, but it was also delightfully passive of him. This was another thing she liked about him: he wasn’t afraid to be passive, to let her take control.

Kaori stopped sucking his nipple and kissed down his chest, over his stomach, and then to the waistband of his sweatpants. She grinned up at him as, very careful of his ankle, she pulled his sweatpants and underwear off. His cock was thick and pink, but not fully erect as she took it in her mouth.

She loved sucking him. Shoma wasn’t quiet in bed, but he was most responsive when she had his cock in her mouth, her hand working the base, or massaging his balls. He jerked, he moaned, he panted, flushed wine-red. He even begged sometimes just to come.

Now she worked him fiercely, feeling him swell and tasting him as he leaked against her tongue. Just the act had made her even wetter, so that her underwear stuck as she stopped and got off the bed.

He looked at her, dazed.

She took off her sweatpants and underwear. Then she pulled out the clip holding back her hair, so it swept her shoulders, crow-dark. It made her feel sexy. And it made her feel even sexier to have Shoma looking at her while he jerked himself.

“Where are your condoms and lube?” she asked him after a minute of watching the flush rise in his chest. “Or did you forget again? I don’t want to sneak back down to my room.”

“It’s in my luggage,” he said rather tersely for a man masturbating. “Don’t you want me to, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Kaori said as she went through Shoma’s mess of luggage. “I don’t exactly read minds.”

“Go down on you,” Shoma said.

“Not tonight. It’s Shoma night.”

“Don’t pity fuck me because of my ankle.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing -- aha,” she said, having found the condoms.

“Use the ones in the red packets,” Shoma said.

His eyes were shut, breath hitching as he stroked himself, ringing his head with his thumb. She loved watching him masturbate. Just the intimacy of it, how it made her feel closer to him, that he trusted her so much.

“The ones in the red packet are better. Believe me.”

Kaori picked up a condom in a red packet and the bottle of lube. They bumbled around a little, Shoma getting out of bed to lean against the wall, standing on his left foot, while Kaori pulled back the comforter and sheet so they could lie in the bed properly. Finally they slid into bed, condoms and lube at hand, Shoma holding Kaori from behind.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Give me a minute,” she said.

She had learned a while ago that even if she was wet, wet -- and she was, her fingers coming away from her cunt slick -- a little lube still helped. So she poured some on her fingers and slid them inside, before spreading some on her clit.

“Ready,” she said, passing him the lube.

It hardly seemed sexy to announce, but she liked that with Shoma. They were always talking, always telling each other things: when they wanted it, what worked, what didn’t. It was sexy to say: I am ready. To tell him that she desired him so much she could fuck him.

She heard the delightful tear of the condom package and the pungent smell of the condom itself as, presumably, Shoma rolled it on. Then the snap of the lube cap. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her, to feel him moving, curving against those spots she liked so much.

Kaori held her leg up and felt Shoma’s cock against her entrance. But there was something strange about it. Bumpy, almost prickly. Carefully he slid all the way in and she could feel it then.

“You used a studded condom!”

“So I did.”

“Won’t it dull what you feel?”

“But you like it. If you feel good, I feel good.”

He kissed her shoulder and she was briefly very angry with him, because this is not what she had planned. She loved the studded condoms. But she had wanted to please Shoma.

He gripped her hip and began to rock in and out of her. She caught her breath as the small bumps moved inside her.

Oh god, I love you too, she almost blurted, but bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

He kept the pace steady, languid.

“Harder,” she said after a while.

“How much?”

Hard .”

His nails dug into her hips and when he thrust, it burned in the best possible way. It was hard, and fast. With one hand she reached behind her, pressing against the small of his back, urging him on. With the other she began stroking her clit in time to his thrusts.

She gasped and cried out. A few times she called Shoma’s name and  he growled possessively, thrusting harder. If she had not been awash with heat and pleasure, she would have noticed how loud they were. Probably loud enough for people in hotel rooms around them to hear, loud enough for people in the hall to hear. Shoma’s manager would learn about it tomorrow and get after him.

But who the fuck cared?

Kaori felt it building then, at the worst time, and each thrust didn’t help. She clenched, trying to keep it in, but it was inevitable.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” Kaori gasped.

There was, at first, the thin sound of passing air and then a very large fart.

Shoma stopped.

“Did you just fart on me?”

Kaori wanted to die on the spot.

“I tried to tell you!”

She hid her face in her hands. Shoma definitely wouldn't find her sexy now.

The squeaky laugh again. She turned her shoulders to look at him. 


“I just --” he laughed, crinkle nosed and all.

“I'm so embarrassed.”

“No, don't be,” he said, drawing her closer.

“You've put up with my farts,” he murmured.

She snorted.



He kissed her gently.

They were looking at each other as he began to move again. Though she preferred seeing his face when they had sex, it was hard in her current position, so she turned around.

“Mmmm,” she said, arching and cupping the back of his head.

He nuzzled the curve between her shoulder and neck. She touched her clit, still slick with lube, and stroked herself in time. He thrust inside her, dragging in and out, in and out, the little studs on the condom rubbing inside her. He picked up the pace again, until they were both panting, sweating. The head of his cock kept pressing right into a tight bundle of nerves, which made Kaori gasp, especially with those studs against it. Shoma kept saying fuck, which he only did when he was close. He reached around one arm and squeezed her breasts, one at a time. She moaned and it was his touch that did it. She felt it in her gut, that sudden white jolt and then her cunt squeezing, pulsing around him.

It took him a few more minutes, but then she felt him tremble.

“Fuck,” Shoma said, breathless after he came.

She laughed.

“Stop laughing so I can pull out,” he laughed.

You stop laughing.”

He pulled out of her carefully, condom and all, even though they were both giggling. He scooted to the edge of the bed and removed the condom.

“I’ll take it,” Kaori said.

She bounced off the bed and held out her hand.

“What?” Shoma asked.

“The condom?”

“Ew, no, it has my cum in it.”

“I’ve never touched that before.”

He grumbled and held it out, and she noticed he had already tied it off. She grabbed the still warm, wet condom.

“What about cleaning up?”

“Let me worry about it.”

She booped his nose and he made a face.

She went to the bathroom and wrapped the condom in toilet paper before throwing it in the burnable bin. Then she found a washcloth,  wet it , and lathered it with hotel soap. She took it back to bed. Shoma watched her with curiosity as she started to wipe him off. She began, very tenderly, with his cock, moving over his beautiful, muscular thighs, his abs, his firm chest, shoulders. She bent to kiss every freckle, the crooks of his knees and elbows, his collar bones. She turned him over and wiped down his ass, and of course she nipped at both cheeks, which made him squeak. Then wiped and kissed her way up his spine, leaving little love bites on his shoulders.

She tossed the washcloth on the floor. They’d clean up in the morning.

Kaori went to the bathroom and got a second washcloth, which she also wetted and lathered. She gave it to Shoma and lay in bed while he wiped and caressed her. She looked at him the whole time: the adoring way he gazed at her, at each part of her, like she was not just one thing, but many.

“Shoma,” she said, nestling against his chest again.

The second washcloth was thrown on the floor too, the sheets and comforter pulled around them.

“Hmm?” he said drowsily, fingers in her hair.

“You know the ocean?”


“It’s dark and it has a rhythm and pull.”


“It’s beautiful and comforting.”


“Are you listening?”

“Yes. I’m just tired.”

“That’s how I feel about you. You’re like the ocean.”

He seemed to think about this.


“What does ‘huh’ mean?” she prompted.

“I never thought of myself that way.”

“You are.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As they drifted off to sleep, he held her like an oyster cupping a precious pearl.

Maybe she did love him. Maybe she didn’t yet. But she was sure, given enough time, she would.