Work Text:
“You know it's time that we
Grow old and do some shit.”
Akira had finally moved in with Ann.
He’d gotten so used to Leblanc’s attic that getting him out of there was like pulling teeth. In his defense, it was a very convenient spot that, effectively, meant he stood almost zero chance of ever being late to work. He wasn’t exactly someone who had a plethora of difficult-to-move possessions (or much at all, really), but everyone knew it was about more than just convenience or labor. It was about moving on, and with all that had occurred over the last few years, it was difficult to accept that times really had changed.
In the ensuing months after Sumire got back from the mental healthcare facility, everyone had begun to properly pursue their respective life paths… almost. Yusuke’s exhibit had become a modest success, Ryuji’s progress as a physical therapist was coming along shockingly well, Makoto and Sae were both preparing to take the bar exam (the preliminaries, anyway), and Sojiro was enjoying the fact that, at present, he had three mentees who were able to alternate with regularity, giving the old man a well-deserved series of breaks in between showing Futaba, Akira, and Haru the ropes.
Futaba wasn’t quite in it for the long haul, though. She was mainly just tiding herself over with a part-time gig while she precariously navigated pursuing an admittedly esoteric doctorate with her mother’s research as a foundation for progress, but that was a long way off, seeing as she hadn’t actually started yet. Haru alternated taking more managerial positions and duties anyway, preparing for Akira to take over the main location, and Haru’s opening of a second ‘sister’ Leblanc Cafe to boost their profile a bit was coming along swimmingly. She just had to wait for the prior owners of the space she was going to buy to give her the deed to sign, and then she’d have an investment in their very own chain. A very, very small chain that they hoped still stayed relatively small, for the sake of their collective sanity.
It was also around that time when Ann’s first real overseas modeling gig for Rise’s agency, all the way over in Europe, where she’d always wanted to take Akira. They took advantage of his flexible schedule so that they could have a sort of mini-vacation while Ann was off the clock. They’d smartly chosen to add some additional steps to the ‘packing’ phase so they could get his stuff to their new apartment as soon as they could, and when they arrived back from their little trek, they’d already be settled and ready to pass out on their bed. A bed that, thankfully for Akira, contained far better support for their backs than his ratty old mattress. That being said, in a weird way, he was going to miss it too. Well, okay, maybe not the smell. That part was an unequivocal improvement. There was a good reason that Ann never stayed over at his place.
Sumire had already begun trying to get back in the swing of things, practicing a mild but still regimented gymnastics routine with Hiraguchi so she’d be limber and ready to start back up when school began in the Fall. Futaba, of course, insisted that they just both take a de facto ‘gap year’ together since her treatment and recovery entailed her easing herself back into a normal life again, and putting an indefinite ‘hold’ on school for her own sake. Was it an excuse to just take some time off and enjoy some downtime with her girlfriend? Absolutely. Not a soul objected, either. If anyone deserved a break, it was those two. Truthfully, it was something everyone else wished they'd done. They deserved a normal year with one another without school or Mementos intervening, and thankfully, it wasn't urgent that any of them were employed or started school. Between Haru and Ann, the collective support system of the Phantom Thieves could've housed them all for a while.
The day had been long. Even with Akira’s relative pittance of possessions, it took them a while to get everything he needed and wanted loaded onto a rental vehicle that was a hell of a lot more of a pain in the ass to drive than a self-driving cat bus. Haru had closed up early just so they wouldn’t be carrying bulky furniture through the cafe, risking hitting some poor customer in the head. So Akira, Ann, Futaba, Haru, and Makoto all assisted in getting things in order until all that was left of Akira’s living space was, in fact, that dirty old mattress.
Everyone said their brief goodbyes to the happy couple, who were both pretty stoked to enjoy some time away from all the noise of reality. Futaba and Akira even got just a little emotional, seeing as they’d no longer be within walking distance of each other. It was a comfort they would both miss, but now that they each had long-term significant others, they knew even better things were on the horizon for both of them. Ann whisked her boyfriend away with enthusiasm aplenty, wanting to get a jump on packing already so they wouldn’t be in a rush the following morning. After that, Futaba wished her own goodbyes, eagerly heading to pick up her girlfriend and do absolutely nothing besides dote on her for the next few days. No one wanted to come across as condescending, so they all struggled to keep how adorable they found Futaba now that she had entered proper ‘GF mode’- she was so obviously thankful that everything had worked out as well as it had that they knew she was trying to stay ahead of a potential karmic deficit.
And then there were two.
Haru was finishing cleaning up behind the counter, hanging up her apron, and putting away the cleaning solution she used to disinfect everything. Makoto had been in a rather involved discussion with Sae via text regarding studying help, which confounded her endlessly, seeing as Sae had already passed the bar. Yeah, having to retake it sucked, but it wasn’t as though she was helpless! Time got away from her until she realized how empty the cafe felt, only the sounds of a barely audible TV in the back and the occasional squeaky sound that came from Haru being, well, just an iota too thorough really pierced the veil.
When both of them finished their respective tasks, they looked up to the clock on the wall, both groaning as they realized they’d been there an entire extra hour longer than they meant to be. While the ex-Phantom Thieves may have been taking things consciously slower, that didn’t mean that the two most upstanding and self-sufficient members of their party weren’t adept at keeping themselves busy. Hell, Makoto practically had to be to keep herself sane. Haru was ankle deep in paperwork as of late, mostly waiting on other people to do their jobs before she could finish hers. Her head swam constantly, imagining the space she’d bought in her head, trying to replicate the feeling, decor, and aesthetic of the cafe while still adding her own personal twist to it all. She wanted it to be authentic, but still have a pinch of ‘her’- whatever that actually meant.
Most of all, though? She wanted modesty. While she had a fair amount of wealth and assets, she didn’t desire to become a tycoon like her now-departed father. Among other things, it was part of what allowed him to become a lesser version of himself. Did she want success? Did she want to thrive? Of course. She just wanted to do it on her own terms and, potentially, even live more within her means. She didn’t need all that money, so she was already window-shopping for charitable causes for when she had enough to remain afloat with just her own branch of the business. It was comfortable, but exciting, too. At least one part of her life still could be.
Makoto had been lost in thought, daydreaming vividly about what on Earth they would end up calling their own practice one day, seeing as they couldn’t do the whole ‘different last names together’ thing that you always saw firms do. Her chin was held aloft steadily in the palm of her hand as she stared out the window, observing the dusk outside with her tired, crimson eyes. She'd worn herself out, so she was a trifle exasperated with... everything.
It was a little more than that, too. She had to look to the future because the present was so... in progress. Liminal, in a strange sense. True, she was careening forward through law school. She had a broad idea of what to expect, but was that the issue? A sense of youthful spontaneity had been something her entire adolescence lacked. Until she met the others, sure, she was busy, but was she having any fun? Did she have any semblance of a social life? Not particularly. She felt kinda similarly now, only able to meet up with friends when their schedules aligned. She just couldn't help but wonder all the requisite 'what ifs'- particularly one where everyone could've met when they were first-years. She would've expedited her journey to personhood, and she might know how to deal with the profound... profound... profound what?
Loneliness. Yeah, that was probably it. Makoto, despite having at least a baker's dozen of the best pals anyone could ask for, was deeply lonely. Trapped in her apartment with Sae, who was probably easier to live with than ever, but that was just it. She almost missed the friction. It was a little more stimulating, frankly.
Ugh, was this truly where she was? Craving being upset? She hated fighting with Sae, so what the hell was her deal? Makoto sincerely contemplated not being capable of happiness, something she knew was absurd and untrue. Yet, still, it lingered. The notion that she'd always be dissatisfied. That the grass would always be greener, and thus, lead to eternal disappointment. There was the distinct possibility that was simply what life was. Finding ways to acclimatize to disappointment.
She knew the truth. If she were less lonely, it wouldn't feel that way at all. It was the exact reason she'd agreed to do this today. Even if it was just a back-breaking chore, it was an excuse to come see some friends.
As for something more than a friend that could cure her loneliness? Please. Makoto could hardly fathom keeping herself together, let alone someone else. Whoever her partner was deserved her. All of her.
Oh well. At least Haru's still here...
Ever the sight for sore eyes. That girl really did seem to struggle finding a room she couldn't brighten. It was a quality she thought all her friends possessed, to some extent, but as the weeks and months passed and she and Haru communicated more, she learned it was a defining trait of the heiress. It was actually part of why Makoto was struggling. If Haru, by and large her closest friend of all, couldn't fill the void in her, what the hell could?
Needless to say, it was a bit of a system shock when Haru basically flopped down next to her in the booth she resided in, her massive, fluffy sweater threatening to absorb her being entirely, never to return again. She quietly exclaimed, but Haru all but ignored her with a languorous sigh, resting her head on Makoto’s shoulder even though the other woman hadn’t even fully settled back down from her initial point of impact.
“Ugh,” Haru lamented, “I took two espresso shots before we started, so somehow, at the present moment, I am both utterly exhausted and feel like I could run a mile. Is this what getting older feels like?”
Makoto chuckled.
“Exhaustion? Aches and pains? From what I understand, more or less. Sae’s not even much older than me, and she’s got a pinched nerve in her back. Oh yeah, we have lots to look forward to,” she said, her sharp tongue sounding more and more like her elder sister with every day that passed.
Haru eased up, allowing Makoto to have some of her space back, but she still slumped into the booth, partially pressed into her friend’s side. She likely would’ve minded if it were anyone other than the girl who seemed to radiate a supernatural level of softness in all that she did and said, but alas, for Haru, special exemptions could be made. It was one of the reasons Makoto encouraged Haru to pursue being business partners with Sojiro and Akira; she was so personable and warm in a way very few people were. It would be easily appreciated in an environment like this.
That being said, while she was a hard worker, part of her fatigue was no doubt due in part to her heiress upbringing. Learning the ropes was easy, but dealing with the effect the ropes had on your body was a whole different matter. She’d built her stamina in high school for high-intensity, shorter bursts instead of longer, more moderate energy burning.
“At least we get to see the lovebirds fly the coop,” Haru mused, both happy and just a little melancholic, “I mean this in the nicest way possible, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing them together like that.”
Makoto arched an eyebrow, angling herself towards Haru.
“Which ones?” Makoto inquired.
Haru chuckled, her laugh warm and melodious.
“Both of them,” she sighed, “They’re so sweet, they really are… It’s just so different now, you know? I mean, we all knew Ann and Akira had something back in the day. Futaba and Sumire, though? They’re so cute I wanna pinch their cheeks, but jeez, talk about a pairing I never would’ve expected.”
Makoto nodded along. She had grown plenty used to the idea of their inner circle becoming a bit more tightly wound. There had been tension between more than a few of them over the years, not just the ones coupled up, proven definitively by the recently acquired knowledge that it was Ann and Futaba who were apparently hooking up the prior year before Sumire and the caramel-haired girl became official. Admittedly, it had merely slipped out the night Futaba tried alcohol for the first time- no one was weirded out or sore about it, but that didn’t change the fact that it was odd that two of their friends hadn’t just casually hooked up, but had multiple times.
“I won’t lie, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more out of the loop,” Makoto said good-naturedly, “It makes me wonder if we’ve been oblivious this whole time. Not that it was our place to find it all out early or anything, but you’d think we’d be more observant, given our histories.”
She did have a point.
“Observant how?” Haru asked, “Knowing they were together or knowing that they were… hm… is there a proper or more polite way to say ‘gay’? I don’t want to use any uncouth terminology.”
Makoto found Haru’s eternally precarious, overly cautious disposition to be one of the most charming things about her.
“Either, probably?” Makoto posited, “Even though Sae likes women, she’s hard to read, so I guess I just figured I’d be able to ‘notice’ that stuff because of her after she told me. Had she never volunteered the information, I don’t know if I would’ve ever realized. She’s married to the job, after all. Frankly, it was Sumire that surprised me the most. She just seemed so-”
“Straight?” Haru interrupted, completely genuine.
Makoto nearly snorted, which, in turn, made Haru do exactly that.
“A little bit, yeah?” she said uneasily, “Not that I’m some big expert. It’s just… you’d think you know your friends well enough to figure that stuff out, right? Theoretically?”
Haru patted Makoto’s shoulder.
“In some cases, I suppose so,” she said, “Though you have to consider how complicated those feelings must be. Ann has always been so confident, so when she told us she liked girls, it just felt sort of natural. Futaba’s quite shy, and Sumire can be pretty closed-off. I can’t say I blame us for not picking up on it. There’s also the chance that they simply did their best to hide something like that. You’re not necessarily safe even if you’re among friends, which makes it doubly frightening.”
Makoto was taken aback. Haru was by far the flightiest member of their core group, so she didn’t often unpack things so… thoroughly.
“Well, I guess I never thought about it like that,” Makoto said, “It does make me feel better… my first assumption was that we may have said something wrong. Then again, I suppose hindsight is 20/20. Easier to feel stupid post-hoc, right?”
Haru had begun fidgeting in place, tilting her head left and right with subtle, specific intent to see if she could get her neck to pop. No such luck. She was going to need to develop better posture, lest she end up like Sae and have the back of a fifty-year-old man by the time she was thirty.
“Very true,” she answered, “Whenever I think about it, I have to remind myself I’m looking for confirmation bias of some sort to make things make more sense. So silly. All for what? Us beating ourselves up over how happy everyone is? Honestly, we should be lucky they were able to tell us on their own terms. It’s not a chance everyone is afforded.”
Makoto couldn’t help but find Haru’s thoughts on the matter… surprisingly nuanced. She did feel better about it, now that she put it like that. It would’ve sucked if they’d found out when the girls weren’t quite ready yet. Better they worry about being observant than depriving them of their agency.
“That’s… you’re right,” Makoto said, realizing her error in real time, “Goodness, you’ve thought about this a lot, huh?”
Haru perked up, eyebrows raised as she looked at her friend.
“Well… I wouldn’t say ‘a lot,’ it’s just… I was rather curious, is all,” she said, hiding just a hint of obvious embarrassment.
“Curious?” Makoto asked completely innocently.
Haru’s cheeks blushed a rosy pink color.
“W-Well of course!” she said, flustered, “I want to be supportive! A cheerleader on the sidelines to tell them what they need to hear. I figure all of us could use that, from time to time.”
Makoto smiled gently. That was the Haru they all knew and loved. Empathetic to a fault. They all did need a cheerleader oftentimes, seeing as a few of them had lost someone who would’ve served a similar purpose. Haru was not necessarily confident in her abilities, but she did very much enjoy cheering people up, at the very least.
“I think we could too,” Makoto agreed, “Futaba and Sumire have always struggled with that stuff more than the rest of us, too. I mean, you remember her palace, right? No wonder she struggled. Same with Sumi. In fact… oh I shouldn’t poke and prod at this, it’s not my business…”
Haru curled the corners of her mouth upward, smile just a bit mischievous.
“Oh come now, you can’t bring it up and then back down immediately! If I think you’re about to cross a line, I’ll tell you to stop. They’re our friends! It’s at least a little bit our business,” Haru reasoned.
Makoto was just a bit skeptical. It made some sense, but not enough to alleviate the feeling that Makoto was sticking her nose somewhere it didn’t belong. For as much as Haru was absolutely the most trustworthy gossip they knew… she did mean well. Just maybe not well enough to totally assuage her fears.
“Well… I guess it’s just that I wouldn’t have expected Sumi to just… get over it?” Makoto wondered aloud, not really to Haru, more in general, “I figured… with all she went through? It’s miraculous she and Ann get along, right? Like… could you really just let something like that be water under the bridge? Even if you knew you were being unreasonable?”
Makoto honestly wasn’t sure of herself. She figured she was mature enough to be able to realize everyone involved was an adult, and that misunderstandings and miscommunication are normal. But that didn’t change her gut reaction to the whole thing when she put herself in Sumire’s shoes. She had to admit, it would be a hurdle for her. Jealousy? Probably not. Insecurity? Definitely.
“I’m not sure,” Haru said, appearing to give the matter copious brain power to parse through it, “I would like to think so, but we have our moments where our better angels end up failing us. I could definitely cross a boundary like that with a friend, but if it meant putting myself between two people? Goodness, I don’t know. I’m certainly proud they’re able to be adults about the whole thing.”
It certainly helped that Ann was so easygoing. She was also just way, way too sincere for petty miscommunication. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and in many ways, that was a virtue everyone was envious of. Sumire was certainly wound a bit tighter, but they weren’t sure if that was because of what happened to her or if it was her natural disposition. The truth lay somewhere in the middle, more often than not, but Haru still couldn’t shake the notion that this depended way more on who would be the key players in this conflict. Frankly, Futaba, Sumire, and Ann were probably one of the better combinations they could think of in terms of trying to minimize potential emotional fallou-
“-wait, really?” Makoto suddenly asked, derailing Haru’s train of thought in record time.
“Hm?” Haru hummed, immediately wondering just where her mind was about to take her.
Makoto looked surprised. Not shocked, in no way was the emotion superlative, but she hadn’t expected to hear… at least part of that, from the looks of it.
“You would? ‘Cross a boundary like that with a friend,’ you mean?” Makoto asked.
Haru looked like a student trying to hide from the teacher trying to call on them for the proper answer.
“I mean, it certainly depends on the friend, of course!” Haru hurriedly said, “It would have to be a very good friend. I have standards!”
Makoto let loose an uneasy smile.
“I’m sure you do,” she reassured her, “But, I mean, if it’s us we’re talking about? I don’t think I have any friends who aren’t very good friends.”
They both sat in that sentiment for a moment, pondering just what the implications actually were if they squinted a little bit. Ultimately, Makoto felt as though she had overlooked something fairly major.
“Wait, time out for a sec,” she said with a little more urgency, “Haru? Are you… I mean, I’m not trying to pry anything out of you, but when you say ‘cross a boundary’- do you just mean…? You know?”
It took Haru a few seconds and about a half dozen very methodical, slow blinks in order to get her brain where it needed to be. If not for the seriousness of the conversation, Makoto would’ve laughed at how eerily cat-like Haru could be sometimes.
Shockingly, she… shrugged.
“I… have thought about it,” Haru said, both ponderous and nervous in equal measure, “I think women are very beautiful. I think all of you all are gorgeous, as a matter of fact. I just don’t really know what… to do with that? Does me thinking that even mean anything? It’s rather messy, but… I just understand why one might take the risk. If you wanted to do something like that, even if it were just for a bucket list or something, it would have to be with someone you trusted more than anyone. I guess it means, as odd as it sounds, Ann, Futaba, and Sumire might have a stronger trust in each other than anyone else.”
Makoto found the explanation delightfully practical, and it more than explained her observational disconnect with it all.
“They all do seem like they talk more, don’t they?” she speculated, “I think you might be right.”
Haru snickered, earning a few questioning wrinkles out of Makoto immediately.
“Right about what, exactly?” she asked, “The part about you being gorgeous~?”
Haru playfully fluttered her eyelashes at Makoto, who, in turn, narrowed her gaze.
“You know very well which part I meant,” Makoto rebuked, “Don’t think you can slide your way out of this, Miss Busybody. Exactly how ‘right’ are you about that, hm?”
Makoto couldn’t help but crack a sly grin, whereas Haru was almost delightfully flabbergasted. Had Makoto, of all people, just been playful about this with her? She was so used to being the instigator that once the tables had turned, she found it difficult to know what to do next.
“W-Well, I mean… it would be rude of me to deny you after saying otherwise, wouldn’t it?” Haru asked, not sure if her own question was hypothetical or not.
Makoto tilted her head, noting that Haru wasn’t merely flustered or a little embarrassed; she was nervous. Her thumbs nervously made circles in her own palms, a surefire sign of unease that Makoto recollected from as far back as their Phantom Thieves' heyday.
“I mean, it would only be rude if it weren’t actually true,” Makoto very plainly pointed out.
Makoto watched as a comical bead of sweat made a beeline from Haru’s forehead, down the side of her face, clinging to the edge of her jawline before trying to escape the tension that now flooded the air.
“Pardon?” Haru squeaked out.
Makoto couldn’t help it. It was cute. This was… just a little bit exhilirating, somehow. Probably because somewhere deep down, Makoto wanted her to just admit it. As much as she wanted to project being a beacon of independence, there was a part of her that yearned for some kind of approval or recognition. Particularly someone just a little bit older. Because of Sae, Makoto had come to value the opinions of those who could be slotted into the ‘big sister’ archetype.
But, even if she didn’t, for whatever reason, Makoto was invested in her response. Not that she’d let it show, of course.
“It would only be rude if you were lying. If you were telling the truth, I would have no reason to take offense… right?” Makoto asked.
Haru narrowed her eyes at her friend as Makoto slowly gained the upper hand in the exchange, her own previous skeptical glare easing into an amused nonchalance.
“You are going to make a truly diabolical lawyer,” Haru said, flashes of her own business deals and settling her father’s assets with a legion of attorneys playing in her mind rather vividly.
Makoto leaned back, allowing herself to bask in the glow of a confident swagger she very much enjoyed getting to whip out every once in a while.
“Beautiful and a great lawyer?” Makoto asked theatrically after a faux gasp, “Goodness, Haru, just put a ring on it already.”
The others really had been an influence over her, as the years went on. She couldn’t deny… being provocative was fun sometimes.
Haru didn’t so much ‘lean back’ as she did allow her body to once again collapse into her own seat, her head flat on the top of the booth as she stared at the ceiling.
“Perhaps this was a mistake,” she sighed, eyes darting to the side to gauge Makoto’s reaction.
Despite her hair being shorter and her disposition seeming unchanged on the surface, the one thing about Makoto that had changed the most in the years since high school ended was that she learned to take herself a little less seriously. Repairing her relationship with her sister did wonders for her own self-perception, and Sae had to do a decent amount of growing that gave Makoto a far healthier model for success. There was a minor misconception about her having a more shrewd, prissier side to her, but part of that had always been reputation. What remained of it seemed to be slowly evaporating as time went on.
While it wasn’t overt by any means, it was unmistakable. Confidence was a very good look on the younger Nijima sibling.
Haru, conversely, felt an obligation to take things more seriously. Even after her father died, it felt as though she got a real close look at just how much her friends had either lost or given up to be where they were today, a look that gave her a new perspective. She didn’t want to take what she had for granted anymore. She wanted to be a proper, responsible adult, one who could be there for those who weren’t as fortunate as her, even if it was in a small way. It was why she’d taken so passionately to Leblanc; it always seemed like a cozy refuge that people came to so they could escape. It meant she was constantly discovering her own limits.
And maybe a few other things too.
Makoto eased up, placing her hand on Haru’s shoulder, only to find her friend’s eyes were already on her.
“Hey, I’m just messing with you,” she said, her voice lowering just a bit, “I’m not exactly judgmental. I don’t mean to make fun of your dilemma… in fact…”
She sighed. Was this actually a good idea?
Haru’s curiosity was piqued. Her eyebrows couldn’t help but raise a bit as Makoto internally deliberated.
“I thought about it too,” she admitted in an uneasy exhale before correcting herself, “Think about it, I mean. From time to time.”
She wasn’t sure what was more surprising to her, the fact that Makoto had said that in earnest, or the fact that she bothered to change her own declaration into the present tense.
Haru leaned forward, a bit more legitimately invested in this interaction than she had been previously.
“Just so we’re clear, here,” Haru clarified, “We’re talking about… women, yes? In a, uh, intimate sense?”
She didn’t need to wade in uncertain waters here. She was prone to blunders and absolutely did not want this discussion to end up being rife with them.
Makoto nodded.
“Yeah,” Makoto answered, “I guess I’ve gone back and forth on it since Sae came out to me. It’s just hard not to wonder, right? To think about it, occasionally?”
Haru chuckled. Makoto liked to appear the most ‘together’ out of all of them, but spending more time with her had clued her in to some tells. Her tone, right now, indicated an unintentional showcase of vulnerability. A chink in the armor that she was always aware could be pierced, you just had to find the right way to do it. She didn’t interrogate ‘why’ she wanted to do it at all whatsoever.
“We’re at ‘occasionally’ now, hm?” she asked, “Think we’re in denial?”
It was the best way to ask what she really wanted to ask, which was more or less her exact sentiment in reverse.
Makoto didn’t even really pay attention to the more playful tone at the start of Haru’s query. It was the question she had asked herself time and time again. It was how these trains of thought always derailed and crashed, arriving at the inevitable crossroads of ‘am I overthinking this?’ and ‘am I trying to rationalize my way out of this?’- either way, you were saddled with a dilemma that felt thorny and exhausting. Denial was easier, sometimes. That didn’t mean it was true, but it didn’t mean the opposite either.
“Maybe,” she postulated, trying to avoid a concrete answer as always, “I think a lot of it has to do with the kind of people we-”
She pointed at Haru, then back at herself, repeating the motion rapidly until she cut herself off abruptly.
“-are,” she continued, “Let’s face it, we’re probably the most pent-up and passive of our entire circle. Stands to reason we’d be conflict avoidant… even if that conflict is with… ourselves.”
Haru sat up properly, turning to Makoto. She wanted to take this a little more seriously. It sounded as though Makoto had more than a few legitimate doubts she was holding onto. It was her turn to put her hand on the other girl’s shoulder, but this time, her fingers seemed to tighten ever so slightly more than they had previously.
“I’m sorry, Makoto, do we need to slow down here?” Haru asked, “I didn’t mean to bring up something touchy; it was just an errant little thought. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”
Makoto smiled, meek and toothless, but the warmth radiated from those ruby-red pupils of hers. Ugh, she was really letting the melancholy get to her. She had been doing a good job of putting up a poker face, too.
“I appreciate you saying that, but… I think that it might. I may have been using the same revolving door of excuses to avoid this,” Makoto said, sounding both steadfastly certain and unmistakably regretful.
Haru let out a dry chuckle.
“You… really might have a point,” she admitted, “And, I mean… maybe this is just me getting carried away here, but would this be such a touchy subject if we weren’t really interested? I mean, I know that people can get cold feet at the last minute, but it would just feel so odd if I’ve been lying awake at night over nothing, you know?”
Honestly, none of this really surprised Makoto. Haru just didn't seem like the person to let arbitrary things like 'gender' dictate her preference or attraction. She leapt past the initial shock and the 'wait... you're really...?' and straight to 'oh thank God, someone else gets it too'- it was just easier to dispense with formalities sometimes.
Makoto hated that she recognized Haru’s logic. She’d often thought it, in fact, and contemplated pulling the trigger and just asking Sae how she knew. Then again, they were on good terms, and Makoto knew Sae’s love life was something that existed on the furthest margins of her sister’s existence, if at all. No reason to poke that specific bear at the moment.
Haru was a bit more… discombobulated. With her, it was really more frustration at her own apprehension because she wasn’t sure why the notion of her being attracted to girls felt so taboo to her still. Her entire friend group was either overtly accepting, or ‘friends of Dorothy’ already. She had no business being overly friendly with close-minded people anyway. Part of her worried it was some kind of bizarre internalized homophobia. She didn’t think ill or differently of those who were different from her, so why was it an issue at all? Where was the consequence, here, exactly? Sure, societal expectations were not an unimportant factor here. But, on the other hand, they were the Phantom Thieves for God’s sake! Society be damned! They’d built their identity on being outcasts, rogues, and renegades who’d been shunned, and they even learned to pride themselves on it. Was the compulsory draw towards what was considered normal just so powerful that it felt innate? Was their social conditioning truly that thorough?
“You too, huh?” Makoto finally let out, “Honestly, if we tallied up the literal, actual amount of sleep I’ve lost over this and I turned out to be straight, I think I’d be pissed. Is it possible to come out as bisexual purely as a result of the sunk cost fallacy?”
They both laughed, mostly because they knew it wasn’t impossible at all. Rebels though they may have been, their other commonality was a propensity for hilarious self-sabotage.
“I think there would be enough perks to want to keep me, should that ever happen,” Haru added.
Makoto couldn’t help but briefly guffaw. She spoke as though the gay and straight communities were the result of draft picks. Which, depending on what she decided she believed, could technically be considered true if you ascribed to an intelligent creator who also wasn't arbitrarily homophobic.
“Perks? I don’t think it’s an actual club or organization. You don’t get benefits with your membership,” she said.
Haru rolled her eyes, still clinging to an uneasy smile as she did it.
“You know what I mean!” Haru said, “I feel women are just easier to be comfortable around. Even if it was completely non-sexual in nature, I believe I’d have an easier time marrying a woman than a man.”
As much as she wanted her words to be a joke, they were anything but. It had been something she’d thought about plenty after she was set up for her arranged marriage of financial convenience. She thought a lot about the things she’d never have in the future that included him. The opportunity to date at all, the chance to explore, to actually witness the organic growth of a relationship. They were all things she wanted because… well, why wouldn’t she?
All Makoto could do was smile again, shooting her a knowing look.
“Haru, I know this is a sensitive topic, but that is the gayest thing I have ever heard anyone say, and that’s rather impressive given how bold Futaba has been since Sumire came back,” she pointed out.
Thankfully, she found the notion about as funny as Makoto did.
“Oh, dear… it really is,” Haru said with an exhausted, weary grin, “Perhaps my poking and prodding has finally gotten me to my answer. I just feel so… ill-prepared. I’m a kissless virgin at twenty-two, what on Earth would I know about any of this?”
It was easy to forget that Haru was only second to Yosuke when it came to age, as she projected the vibe of this eternally youthful cloud of fluff.
Makoto… understood.
“Well, you wanna know a secret?” Makoto asked, “Same. It’s never quite bothered me; I’m happy my focus was where it needed to be in high school. But now… I dunno. I always thought it would be something I’d discover or indulge myself in ‘later’- it’s just that ‘later’ happens to be rather nebulous.”
Haru wasn’t really surprised, per se; she knew Makoto very well at this point. When things were still rocky with Sae in the aftermath of Shido, and especially after Doctor Maruki died, they sought out each other because they seemed to possess what the other lacked. Makoto craved security and warmth; Haru had a way of embodying those things. Haru needed structure and discipline; Makoto was never short on either. It struck her more as dissonant. Makoto, well… she looked like that, so in theory, should she have ever wanted to pursue something with someone, she could’ve gotten anyone. But, she still understood, her friend was a woman who always had her priorities in order, and that hadn’t ever really been among them.
Makoto very nearly thought the same thing. Haru was a very pretty girl, she was absolutely loaded, and kind to a fault. She was a ‘catch’ that anyone would be unbelievably lucky to ‘land’ should she have ever tried her hand at dating.
She looked to Haru, who now had a rather peculiar look on her face. It wasn’t frustration, but it wasn’t far away from it. It was odd to see any part of her that was remotely ‘angular’ in nature.
“Later is now, I suppose,” she said, almost to herself with a remarkable tenderness, “Makoto…”
Haru placed her hand gently on top of Makoto’s. She wasn’t slightly trembling anymore, it seemed.
She may not have been prepared, but she wasn’t clueless. Makoto instantly knew where this was headed. Her heart beat faster, not because she felt any sort of fear or discomfort…
… but because she knew she was going to say ‘yes’ before Haru had even finished asking.
“... would you think me insane if I asked you to… experiment? With me? I don’t want to put pressure on you, I really don’t, but I also don’t think I trust very many people the way I trust you.”
She’d been so… direct. So forward. That, on the other hand, Makoto did not expect. She still smiled back at her, immediately rocketing away any of the residual creeping fear that Haru may have been dealing with. This was precisely the reason she’d felt comfortable enough to ask her in the first place, because she knew with some degree of certainty that a ‘no’ would not have come from a reactionary or angry place. Makoto was a model of pragmatism, and this was no exception. It was far from pragmatic to make your friend feel like a fool for being vulnerable.
Not that any of this actually mattered, thankfully.
“Haru, I would never think you insane,” Makoto reassured her, reaching forward to move some of the messier tresses of hair out of Haru’s face, “You’re one of my favorite people in the world, and if someone was mean or unfair to you, I would kick their ass. That includes my own.”
Despite the intended seriousness of the moment, Haru couldn’t help but giggle. It was one of Makoto’s deeply attractive qualities; she could make her laugh through the brute force of being a complete goofball.
“You would… kick… your own ass?” Haru asked with a shaky smile.
“Not me at my most elegant, I’ll admit, but… yeah! Sure! I’m flexible,” Makoto said with an uncharacteristically dopey grin.
Haru blushed, which instantly began the chain reaction of Makoto blushing, which of course, in turn, made Haru blush even more because Makoto had picked up on why.
“I-I mean, s-save it for the bedroom, Makoto!” Haru nearly choked out, unable to properly verbalize her own attempt at a joke.
The two nervously laughed their lungs empty. That had been the real reason they had collided the way they had, at the end of the day. It was because they could laugh at both themselves and each other enough to know that there was no risk. If things didn’t go well, or if it turned out this was all just two young people being curious, they knew they could laugh it off rather than make a permanent dent in their relationship.
Once they settled down, there were expectant looks from both sides. Ultimately, Haru broke the tension with an awkward, forced cough that signaled to Makoto that she actually hadn’t answered. All she had said was that she wasn’t insane, which, while reassuring, was not the crux of their conversation.
“Oh, right, well… yes,” Makoto scrambled, “I think it’s a good idea. If my first time was with someone I didn’t know as well as you, then I would worry myself into an early grave before I’d even have my first kiss. And, besides, I don’t think I’ll get many opportunities to be with someone like you.”
Haru, thrilled and relieved she hadn’t made a mistake, was now confronting the newfound dilemma of realizing that a ‘yes’ meant that this was actually going to happen. Along with that, her word choice remained quite curious.
“Someone like me?” Haru asked, eyes wide, voice nearly dazed.
Makoto’s eyes and cheeks were dangerously close to the same color.
“Er, well… improper phrasing,” she sputtered out, “I just meant someone who looked… like you. Someone as beautiful as you. Especially in a context where I can… worry a lot less than I normally would.”
Haru almost didn’t know where to begin. It was difficult maintaining her same level of concentration as Makoto struggled a bit; she absolutely wasn’t certain about how she was going to respond to such a thing. It just... kind of made sense to her, in a strange way. Makoto was the person that, had she turned Haru down, would have let it impact her the least. She was rather understanding in that respect. She would’ve chalked it up to vulnerability and impulsiveness making Haru make some hasty choices, and she wouldn’t have thought of her less for it.
She also had thought about her a couple of times. In fact, her realization that she wanted to give this a shot had been specifically after she’d thought about the brunette.
“Firstly,” she began, voice taking on a completely new tenor, “You will have plenty of opportunities to be with all sorts of beautiful people, because you are adorable, Mako. I am merely the first of many possible applicants; thus, I am just as lucky as you. Have you forgotten that I own a cafe and you are a lawyer? Frankly, we would be quite the power couple.”
Makoto was glad things were precisely as mushy as she could emotionally handle. Soft but not sickly. Earnest but not dry. If Haru didn’t have at least a little bit of a sense of humor about it all, it would’ve been much harder to go along with whatever this was presently turning into.
“Well, if I may interject my own ‘firstly’ here,” Makoto countered, “Neither of us are what you just said we were yet, but I see your point. I guess, honestly, what I really meant to say was that I probably won’t have many chances to do this with a friend. Weirdly enough, that makes it feel a lot less scary to me, honestly?”
Haru nodded in agreement. She’d never been more on someone else’s wavelength.
“How funny, I feel the same way. I feel like we’ve been told our whole lives that it made things so much worse, but… I don’t know. This could be fun, couldn’t it?”
Makoto chuckled.
“I think that’s the goal, right? Last time I checked?” she said, just a hint of nervousness sneaking into her tone.
Haru briefly sighed at her inability to get her words right the first time. God, maybe this really was a smart idea.
“Hm… why don’t we make a nice little event of it?” Haru asked, “You wanna have a sleepover? Like when we were in high school? I’ve got a veeeeery large house, and it’s only little old me, after all. I could sure use the company.”
There she was, batting those long eyelashes of hers again. She really did have a gorgeous, alluring pair of large, brown doe eyes. Makoto hadn’t really had the chance to appreciate them up close before. They were inviting, much like everything else about her.
So much so that, now that they had seemingly committed to trying this, Makoto found her eyes attempting to wander to all sorts of places they’d never lingered before. Out of nothing but respect, of course, and definitely not because if Makoto began gawking at her, she would no doubt have trouble stopping once she started.
“That sounds… kinda delightful, Haru. I would love to,” she agreed, beginning to run her hand up and down the length of Haru’s sleeve, “If we end up feeling too weird, we can just hang out. It’s kinda been a while, hasn’t it?”
Between school, work, and the general maintenance of their core friend group over the last few months, she was correct. It really had been. Makoto always kept up with schoolwork, so one night (or, if they had a little too much fun, two nights) of taking it easy felt like something she’d more than earned. Haru clearly needed some sort of break, too, the poor thing.
Haru beamed.
“It’s a date then,” she proposed, “Movies, take out, and, of course, you have to wear your uniform.”
Makoto raised a brow to that.
“Uniform?”
Haru smiled.
“Yes. Pajamas only. If you’re going to spend the rest of your life in your… admittedly very sexy pantsuits, then you have to let yourself breathe a little bit every once in a while,” Haru said declaratively.
Makoto was never the type to project the full spectrum of what she was feeling at a given moment; in fact, she was known for the exact opposite. That said, she couldn’t lie; she was a little excited. That excitement only snowballed because it was, in fact, Haru she was doing it with.
Maybe she was even a little too excited. Enough to be bold, anyway.
“Well… you’re closing early, right?” Makoto asked, secretly hoping this ‘Hail Mary’ would land, “Any chance you're free tonight and tomorrow? I can just run home, grab a bag, and then head back to the station.”
Haru very nearly declined, not because she didn’t want to, but because the thought seemed so appealing that she damn near felt as though she had been the one who asked Makoto, and almost said ‘no’ purely because it sounded too good to be true. She really was all over the place today.
“Give me ten more minutes, and this place will be ready to be locked up. In fact, time it right, you could beat me home,” she joked.
Makoto grinned, very satisfied with the direction this day had taken. She was glad that one of her attempts at being more forward-facing about what she wanted had seemingly paid off so well. This would’ve been the type of thing that her younger self would’ve never entertained doing, purely because she thought it both frivolous and impossible. Now? Well, frivolity had its place, and the impossible meant approximately nothing to the former Phantom Thieves.
“Anything you need or want me to bring?” Makoto offered as she straightened her posture.
Haru stretched, let out a yawn, and smiled.
“Nope. If we think of anything we need, there’s nothing a bored heiress can’t just have delivered, after all,” she said, playing up her often-perceived airheadedness that was merely a guise for her social awkwardness.
It was something Makoto was very, very glad she had seen through. She was the same way; her ‘costume’ was merely that of an overly-involved honors student.
She was also very excited that she wasn’t going to have to pay for take-out. She wasn’t broke by any means, but it was a luxury her careful budgeting couldn’t often afford.
“Alright then,” Makoto said with a nod, “It’s a date.”
She arrived at Haru’s a mere fifteen minutes after the Okumura heiress did. As much as she would’ve loved to play into Haru’s predictive joke earlier, she suspected she would’ve become antsy rather quickly waiting for her. Haru was already dressed for the occasion, her pajamas consisting of a silken two-piece set that was as pink as the rest of her typical wardrobe. She couldn’t help but imagine that Haru had chosen her attire both because it was soft and comfy, and because later she would get to tease Makoto when she inevitably struggled to inelegantly unbutton it. She may have been the sweetest person she knew, but she was also one of the more diabolical, despite her levying that precise word at Makoto herself merely an hour ago. It was all part of her charm.
Diabolical, indeed.
No time was wasted as she began changing out of the casual attire she’d worn for moving, and slipping into a pair of flannels and one of Sae’s old t-shirts from her own college years. It was threadbare now, but it had been washed so many times that it was really soft, and she really loved how the texture felt on her skin. Comfort was supposed to be a priority, right? And thus, she followed suit.
Makoto kept waiting for the moment between leaving Leblanc and walking back into Haru’s bedroom, where she would get cold feet. When the inevitable realization would just fall out of the sky and hit her with a cataclysmic THUD that sent her right back to Earth. Yet, such a moment never came. Any anxiety was merely just an offshoot of the excitement she felt.
Part of it was the freedom. She knew she didn’t really have romantic feelings for anyone at the moment, and from what she could gather, Haru was in a similar state. It allowed her to really relax, to do away with her overly-cautious self for a little while. She could lower her guard. Hell, she could make a fool of herself, but because it was Haru she was with, it didn’t matter.
Plus, being an adult was fucking exhausting. It was nice to pretend to be a dumb kid for a little while, getting to go back in time and reclaim parts of their adolescence that the world had robbed from the vast majority of them. To both of them, this was a memory that, in a better, more just world, would replace some random night in years past when they had to trek through the depths of Mementos in order to find their target. Or, just an evening of solitude spent away from everyone because of exhaustion. This was the sort of memory you deserved to have.
She could never get used to just how large Haru’s house was. It felt even more empty with just one occupant, but Haru knew that better than anyone. It was actually for sale at the present moment, as it was just far too much for one person to keep up with. She simply didn’t know what to do with all of it. The trouble was that there weren’t a lot of buyers for a multi-million dollar mansion in this economy. It was easy to get lost, but thankfully, Makoto knew the relevant routes to the rooms she knew she needed access to. Bathroom, Kitchen, Bedroom, the works. The architecture was spacious, a bit regal in its design, even, which was such a strange clash for her. It just didn’t match Haru’s vibe, and thus felt like she was living in a hotel with only one occupant. She felt a pang of sympathy for her friend, knowing that there must’ve been some days when the loneliness in here was impossible to outrun.
It was nice not to have to worry about that same loneliness for the evening. She knew that was the real reason she hadn't just left Leblanc. She didn't have to stay to text her sister. Hell, for all she knew, Haru would've been busy. She just wanted to escape for a little while.
It was all a little ostentatious, but the spaces that Haru spent time in were ones she’d tailored to her liking. Her own room was, of course, about as fluffy and pink as a room was capable of being. The carpet, the bed, the couch, the pillows, all of it looked like Strawberry Shortcake exploded. Not really Makoto’s thing, but it had a pleasant association with it all because of her friend.
When she reached the end of the hall, she took a deep breath and pushed the already partially-opened door, greeted by the sight of Haru lying on her stomach near the edge of her massive bed, feet kicking back and forth into the air, attention firmly fixated on the flat screen on the opposite wall. Makoto couldn’t help but smile at seeing that Haru had even worn a pair of insanely fluffy, pink socks that didn’t match the rest of her getup at all.
It was doubly wise that they had elected to do this because of the environment of Haru’s room... sans all the pink. It still radiated comfort from the carpet to the walls. She’d cut down on the sheer volume of stuffed animals over the years (and promptly put them all in another, more well-hidden room in the house, nobody needed to know she still had all of them) and gone for a few more modest pieces of decor, a painting, a framed photograph of everyone outside Leblanc a few years back- it was just a lot less busy, even if it was no less her. Perfectly suited to the occasion. Sort of.
Makoto hopped onto the side of the bed, sitting back and propping herself up against the pillows and headboard, fluffing them adequately to keep her upright as Haru seemingly channel surfed, rather intently focused.
“I am not ignoring you,” Haru said dryly, her attention squarely focused on ‘locking in’ to finding something, “I am merely trying… to see… just what we can rent on demand…”
“What, they don’t have porn?” Makoto joked.
Haru stopped clicking the remote for a brief moment, tilting her head around to make eye contact.
The idea of Makoto, of all people, being the one to bring that up, was something the Haru and Makoto of five years ago would’ve turned sheet-white over. Now that she was over her initial awkwardness integrating into the group, it was almost expected.
“Well… yes, actually, they do,” she pointed out, rather bemused, “I was looking for more slumber party appropriate viewing, but if my guest is that impatient…”
Truth be told, had Haru actually entertained the notion, she really wouldn’t have minded if they just… started. However, that probably was too much too soon.
Or so she thought…
“It’s all good, I’m just messing with ya,” Makoto said, leaning forward after Haru turned her attention back to the TV, grabbing her foot as it arced upward.
“Oh!” Haru exclaimed, giggling because she was a good deal more ticklish than she let on, “Is that what we’re doing? Messing with me?”
Makoto released her, easing back into her prior position so that Haru could complete the task in front of her.
“Well, I’m having fun,” Makoto said proudly.
Haru didn’t respond. She hummed to herself, clearly back to concentrating intently. After a minute of what had to be mindless scrolling, she clicked her tongue, turning around as she angled her body more towards Makoto.
“I’m so rude,” she began, “Makoto, what are you in the mood for? I am having a horrific case of decision paralysis, it seems.”
“You’re fine! I hadn’t even really thought about it,” Makoto assured her, “Maybe I can flip through some stuff and peruse some streaming stuff and find something, and while I do that, so you aren’t bored out of your skull, you can pick where we get takeout from and get our order started.”
Haru smiled, gently tossing the remote to Makoto before crawling back to the opposite end, positioning herself right next to Makoto, sitting up in a similar fashion before taking out her phone.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, “Truly, what would I do without you?”
Makoto pulled a page from Haru’s own book and fluttered her eyelashes at her. It looked a little more strained, purely because she wasn’t used to emoting so expressively, but that merely made it more amusing to Haru.
“Spend a lot more time figuring out what to watch?” Makoto posed.
Haru gave her a playful little shove, one that she returned in kind, earning a laugh out of both of them. The heiress began to examine their new set of options, eyes widening just a bit.
“Not that much time. I would’ve given up soon because I have yet to eat today, and after helping at Leblance, I’m starving. I could eat just about anything.”
Oh, yeah?
Makoto snorted. It took a moment for Haru to realize her innocuous statement had even earned a reaction from the other girl, but it didn’t take long at all for her to realize why. Makoto pointed to herself, a look of faux surprise as she mouthed 'eat me?' when Haru squinted her direction.
“Since when has your mind taken up residency in the gutter?” she asked, mildly bewildered.
It seemed like Makoto’s newfound confidence was not just on display at Leblanc, and was not just a random burst of courage that allowed her to do something she normally wouldn’t. Even still, it was strange that Makoto would snicker at something she would’ve admonished Ryuji for reacting childishly to.
Makoto shrugged, the smile on her face suggesting her shenanigans weren’t over.
“Since you invited me over to have sex with you?” she inquired back, unable to keep her tone steady.
Haru opened her mouth to object, eyes now squarely focused on her cellular device, where she then proceeded to close her mouth almost just as quickly, unable to come up with a retort that was either witty or practical.
“Fair point,” she conceded, “So what… do you… dammit, Makoto! I can’t even ask you what you want for dinner without making it a double entendre!”
Another playful shove, one that was returned with interest.
“Thankfully, I am not picky,” Makoto said, not wanting to unintentionally wind up Haru any more than she already was, “However… if you wanted to order somewhere that has Lo Mein, I wouldn’t say no. Have had a weirdly strong craving for noodles today.”
Haru flicked the screen a few times before dramatically placing her forefinger in the center.
“Ask, and you shall receive, milady,” she said, still intently focused on finding something to cure her of her hunger.
As Makoto was presented with the same endless array of options as Haru struggled with, she found herself similarly overwhelmed by choice. Truth be told, she had been so preoccupied over the course of the last hour about what was going to come after this that she hadn’t really given it much thought.
After Haru had essentially ordered half of the available menu of the restaurant with the highest-rated Lo Mein noodles she could find, Makoto was no closer to finding anything than she had been. She appreciated the brief reprieve from the remote when she selected her meal on Haru’s phone.
“Alright, it is on its way and will be here in… one hour and ten… minutes,” she said, a little deflated, “I do not think I checked to see how far away this place was.”
Haru’s stomach grumbled, as though it heard her and wished to voice a complaint. She knew it was hardly a big deal; she was getting food delivered and already felt mildly guilty about that. Thankfully, she was a big enough tipper to offset that guilt.
In its totality, it was a meager price to pay to at least get the best possible meal for Makoto, too. But, while she was busy doing that, Makoto’s brain hadn’t truly been compliant with their supposed plans for the evening. Something else took over her thoughts. Something no amount of movie posters and thumbnails with famous actors and titles could distract her from.
“Honestly, it would’ve been better if we got food from even further away. An hour and ten minutes is sort of… precisely inconvenient. Not a lot of seventy-minute movies out there, so we might have to interrupt ourselves…”
She trailed off a bit, still appearing as though she were looking through the latest streaming service she’d opened. Haru almost answered Makoto genuinely, nearly apologizing for not looking more carefully for a closer place. That was, until she gave the statement a bit of thought. After a brief pause, she elected to stop herself, eyes narrowing towards the brunette.
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, “So… what does that mean?”
Makoto cleared her throat. Haru’s tone wasn’t quite accusatory exactly, but…
“Well, I guess we could find something else to have on until it gets here. Just figured it would be best to time it right, ya know?” she said, putting on as convincing a veneer as she could.
Haru leaned closer. Makoto held steady, but it was taking every bit of her willpower to maintain her blank expression.
“Very true,” Haru commented glibly, “So then… what do you suggest we… watch in the meantime?”
Makoto pursed her lips together, trying to figure out how best to swerve this back into her favor. She played her hand a bit too early, it seemed. Oh well, there were worse things that could happen to her rather than some misplaced enthusiasm.
“Well, we could always watch some funny YouTube vide-,”
Haru groaned, head now angled towards the ceiling.
“Makoto,” she said, voice an octave lower than normal, “We have the remainder of the evening, tonight, all of tomorrow, and tomorrow night. We do not have to plan our itinerary down to the minute. Is there… maybe something else you would like to do until our food arrives? Anything at all?”
Busted.
Makoto dropped the remote to her side, throwing back her own head towards the ceiling and groaning. She really thought she was going to be able to choose the subtle approach, sparing her the embarrassment of outright trying to initiate with Haru. She was still a ways off from being able to have her cake and eat it, too. Metaphorically, anyway.
“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile, turning to Haru to find their faces only inches apart, “I got kinda excited and… well… figured it was worth a shot.”
Haru blushed again. Would Makoto ever tire of being able to make someone do that? She didn’t think so.
“All you had to do was ask!” she insisted, giving her friend an exaggerated pouty lip, “I didn’t know I was so scary.”
Makoto laughed, covering her face with her arm to hide in shame. She knew Haru was kidding, but the embarrassment was thoroughly genuine.
“I just didn’t want to come across as eager,” Makoto said, muffled but audible.
Haru finally allowed herself a smile.
“Makoto, with all due respect, you seem rather eager,” she said gently.
The younger Niijima sister allowed her arm to fall to her side, now looking into the beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes of the girl in front of her. Haru looked… relaxed.
Makoto simply was not used to the feeling. Just because she was more academically oriented and ‘serious’ didn’t mean she didn’t have urges or needs. They were just very… inconvenient. Masturbation was a tool to make that inconvenience go away, not really an avenue to make herself feel good. It was all a distraction. Could she have loosened up? Probably. That didn’t make breaking the glass ceiling any easier a prospect. On some level, Makoto still felt a weird amount of guilt that carried over from her early teen years. She had been given ‘the talk,’ but that was specifically in reference to sex between a man and a woman. Some of the more minor details were things Sae didn’t even know to talk to her about in the first place, this being one of them. Because masturbation was so culturally associated with being a shameful, degenerate act, she found it hard to enjoy. It was a weird blind spot in her youth that had fully developed into a mental roadblock.
“Is it weird that I am? You can be honest,” Makoto asked, being completely sincere with her as she allowed a timid smile to infiltrate her face.
Haru could only laugh.
“Makoto… you poor thing,” she lamented, “No. Actually, I think it’s positively adorable. In fact…”
Haru reached behind her, placing her phone on the bedside table next to her, returning to her spot with even less distance between the two women.
“I think it’s a little bit of a turn-on,” Haru said, “I’ve always found enthusiasm… appealing.”
Haru took her hand and gently took hold of Makoto’s upper arm as they faced each other, lying down on their sides parallel to each other. She began to soothe her, slowly dragging it up and down as the soft fabric of Sae’s old shirt pressed into her skin just enough.
It was a little awkward, having to switch gears so fast, but now that it was happening, Makoto didn’t care. Everything that happened up until this exact moment didn’t matter. What mattered was what was going to happen between now and whenever their food arrived. Or whenever they finished. Whoever came first.
Enthusiasm, huh?
She could manage that.
Makoto allowed herself to breathe deeply, in and out, absorbing Haru’s touch. It was so… warm. Everything felt peaceful. Safe. Cozy.
“So… where should we start, exactly?” Makoto asked, still trying to wear the confidence she’d been cosplaying since their discussion at Leblanc took the unexpected turn that it did.
Haru thought about it for a moment, her mind lingering in a few places as her eyes studied Makoto from head to toe. Makoto almost felt her eyes traveling, lingering on whatever exposed skin she could immediately find. Haru watched closely as the hairs on the arm she was touching stood up, the texture of her skin shifting just enough to know she had goosebumps beneath the thin article of clothing, even without looking.
Haru very, very subtly wet the tips of her lips, nearly biting the lower one as she briefly eyed the girl’s neck. It was remarkable that she had ever remotely doubted that she liked girls.
“I know this may sound strange,” Haru began, “But… I really like this. Can we just focus on… touching? Nothing super big yet?”
Makoto nodded, telling herself to be patient with Haru. She felt like she was, in fact, ready to start, but Haru probably had her own pace she needed to go at. Just because Makoto was operating in second gear didn’t mean Haru was out of first.
It was also just so… kind. It was sweet. She hadn’t ever had anyone explicitly express that they wanted to touch her. She felt wanted despite it being a more explicitly sensual act, rather than a sexual one. It just felt good. Beautifully uncomplicated, much like the girl behind the touch.
Makoto’s eyes remained closed, mouth ever-so-subtly parted. She nodded.
“That’s perfect,” Makoto said, letting out a steady exhale, “It’s… nice. Can I touch you, too?”
Haru’s hand finally traveled down far enough to make contact with the skin of her bare arm. Haru’s fingertips grazed the skin, making just enough contact for Makoto to involuntarily shudder. It was such a sudden, overwhelming rebound of a feeling that Makoto’s eyes shot back open, greeted by the sight of Haru fully biting her bottom lip, frozen, briefly concerned she’d done something wrong, but too aroused to deny herself continued contact unless explicitly told otherwise.
Makoto just nodded, and the relief flooded Haru’s face as she allowed her hand to keep moving, continuing to slide her hand up and down, up and down the length of Makoto’s arm from shoulder to fingertip, over and over again, until she gingerly cradled her wrist in her palm. She eased it towards her, bringing it closer until Makoto could literally feel Haru’s breath on the back of her own hand. At a glacial pace, leaving room for objection just in case, she brought the back of her friend’s hands to her lips, kissing it as though she were royalty.
Both of them giggled. They could hardly believe they were so sappy. Haru seemed like if she were literally any sweeter, she’d just turn into a cavity and die, yet she found a way to amplify her existing, honeyed self without being too much. Makoto just didn’t seem the type to have that side to her at all, but that was the trouble; it was a side she didn’t know existed until that very moment.
Haru brought Makoto’s hand to her own left shoulder, sliding it delicately it up the crook of her own neck as Makoto’s fingers felt the other girl’s wavy locks begin to tickle her.
“You know,” Haru said, “I always r-really like it when you play with my hair.”
Makoto’s mind instantly traveled back to Leblanc just a little while ago, the last time she’d done exactly that. She hadn’t even truly thought about it. It was just something she did reflexively. It was never for very long, either, as it was a fairly mindless way of keeping her hands busy as long as the other party involved didn’t mind, which she didn’t seem to. Then again, if she had truly enjoyed it so much, Makoto never did it for very long or managed to be any shade of thorough… if there was any time to spoil her friend, it was certainly now.
“Like this?” Makoto asked just before she began to run her fingers through the heiress’s gorgeously-maintained hair that somehow felt softer than the actual silk she was wearing.
She spread her fingers out just enough so that the space between them could comb through the waves of pale brown, dragging them slowly, with only enough force to create a pleasant sensation- not to tug at anything or cause discomfort.
Haru’s eyes shut instantly as though she would’ve felt pain had she not savored the sensation. A breath escaped her mouth, barely making a noise, but enough to let Makoto know she was doing something right. As she focused on repeating herself, feeling Haru’s exhaled, warm breathing lightly touching her clavicle, Haru’s now free hand didn’t know what to do with itself.
“Where?” Haru whispered, her palm hovering in the slim space between their torsos.
Makoto continued, but with her other appendage’s limited range of motion, she ghosted Haru’s hand up towards her own head, providing her with just enough direction for Haru to intuit what she was signaling her to do.
“Here,” she answered.
Haru then brought her touch to the back of Makoto’s head, now more drunk on the feeling of contact between the two of them than she ever had been on any illicit substances or alcohol. She damn near didn’t want them to progress because it would inevitably entail them stopping, but she wove her fingers into what she could grab of Makoto’s very stylish, boyish haircut that Haru found extremely attractive, but kept to herself because any compliments she could’ve given beyond ‘you look great’ would have potentially crossed a line.
Makoto enjoyed it too, but since her hair was shorter, she knew Haru couldn’t linger in the same way that she could. It was all but certain, in fact, so certain that she knew the other girl could only do one thing to continue their progression. Something that would be far too tempting to pass up.
And with that, Makoto felt the sensitive touch apply just enough force to push her head forward. The moment she recognized it was happening, she did exactly the same until their foreheads pressed together.
Haru attempted to chuckle, but only a single breath escaped in haste. It would’ve sounded like a scoff had she not been grinning.
“Diabolical,” she said softly.
Before Makoto could recollect where or when she’d last heard Haru say that word, Haru kissed her.
Beyond playground trivialities and token elementary and middle school breaches with the form of physical expression, it was each woman’s first real kiss as an adult. Even Haru managed to spare herself from the touch of her loathsome ex by saying she wouldn’t have been ready for anything until marriage. It was a hell of a gamble, considering the type of guy he was, but even the least patient man’s libido could be swayed with the promise of dollar signs on the horizon. On the one hand, it spared her from more time with her fiancé, but on the other, it made her willfully repress even more of herself. Haru was no sex-crazed hellcat by any means, but goodness, of course, she had urges. Times when men and women physically appealed to her and, due to her being terminally used to cutting off any and all chances of someone being interested in her, she had to willfully deny such a prospect. She couldn’t even entertain the notion of something frivolous or exploratory; it would just be another thing she got to miss out on. A princess locked in a tower, eager to see if the world was a little brighter than just what she could see from a tiny cobblestone window. Makoto had thought about it a good deal less than her friend, as she was typically more concerned with the more obviously daunting aspects of physical intimacy.
So, it only stood to reason that it began as awkward. Both women leaned in, eagerly pressing their lips together and then meeting the other pair opposite them, their collision being initially reserved, overly poised, and maybe even stiff. Since the contact elsewhere was so tantalizing, each of them used the moment to hold the other closer, to allow their grips to tighten just enough.
They’d both shut their eyes, both now suspended in the dark as Haru’s firm-yet-soft mattress provided stable support underneath them that gave them just enough grounding to stay in reality as this magic process began to unfold. Makoto could feel the divine satin of Haru’s mouth pressed against hers, lips twitching as they struggled to know what else to do, clearly drunk on the contact elsewhere. Makoto felt Haru’s fingers pulling the back of her head towards her, the tips of her fingers practically massaging her scalp as she did so. Besides the obvious warmth emanating from the close contact of partially-sorta-kinda pressed-together bodies, all the sensation she could meaningfully register was in her head. It felt nearly like an attempt to render Makoto’s brain slack with awe so the rest of her body could follow.
Haru was the more aggressive kisser, which came as a mild shock to both of them. She was simultaneously more nervous about it, but also was the more curious of the two. Part of her wanted to match Makoto’s bravery, knowing she probably would’ve gone for an open-mouthed kiss immediately. That said, she hesitated, and once the last moment of her unshut eyes was spent seeing Makoto’s lips pressed to form a horizon line, she figured it was best to stop here.
She didn’t really care that it wasn’t an ideal first kiss. It was still one where she focused on how and what to touch elsewhere, which gave her a better idea of what she wanted. She very, very much hoped that once this continued, Makoto would be up front about possibly being more handsy.
In the final moments of the first kiss, they felt the other inhale through their nose, an onset of deeper, heavier breathing that was to come. They’d both nearly held their breaths, not for any practical purpose, but because it felt like the right thing to do.
They pulled away with a delightfully emphatic wet pop that felt like the perfect punctuation for the experience. They immediately looked back at each other, eyes wide, hair a little messier, out of breath as they attempted to do an inventory of themselves. Neither of them fully let go of the other, both of them allowing their arms to wilt from the back of their friend’s head to the top of their shoulders.
For a few seconds, it was just panting, but the mouths quickly changed shape as they each formed a kind of bewildered expression of contentment.
“Sorry,” Makoto said with a chuckle, her eyes squinting just a bit, “Not my best work… or, maybe it is. That might be the best I’ve got.”
Haru responded in kind, thank God. Mutual acknowledgement was the easiest way to let each other know that they weren’t crazy or losing their grip on reality.
“That’s why we’re supposed to do this, right?” Haru asked, twirling one of her hair curls in her right hand with it awkwardly smushed between her upper ribcage and the incline of the nearest pillow, “To get better?”
Makoto couldn’t help but notice the upward lilt in the girl’s voice, as though she were just mindlessly searching for a plausible reason to try again.
She was past the games and pretenses. With every passing second, Makoto was eager to actually do this. Not to get it over with or anything like that, but because if Haru’s bold assertion proved to be even remotely truthful, she was eager to see just how that was the case, and to what extent it was true.
They were taking it in stride, but each of them detected something new in the other: a distinct tinge of actual lust. It was the sort of thing you couldn’t mistake in someone if you’d seen it before, but as of that exact moment, it was alien to both of them. Pupils dilated, hearts excitedly pumping at a distinctly reckless rhythm, and some possessive, dark hue in their eyes that was unacknowledged but deeply felt.
“I thought we were doing this because we wanted to,” Makoto said, no attempt to sound authentic as her eyes caught the swell of Haru’s chest after one particularly deep inhale.
Haru looked off to the side, unable to prevent her grin.
“And you don’t want to get better at it?” Haru countered, her arm traveling slowly down Makoto’s side.
Haru ultimately slowed her descent at Makoto’s waist, fingers tentatively placed right where her middle finger could make featherlight contact with the exposed skin between the bottom of Sae’s shirt and her pajama bottoms.
“Convince me,” Makoto said, leaning in with a whisper.
Where she was getting this newfound audacity, she had no idea, but she would’ve been lying if she said it didn’t have anything to do with staring at Haru Okumura, who was looking back at her as though she were some kind of long-forgotten deity.
“Can I… touch you more?” Haru asked, trying to summon that sweetly innocence that often adorned her words, but unable to sound anything other than profoundly excited, even if that excitement was contained to the boiling supernova that was her mind at the present moment.
Makoto dropped the act, shooting the other girl a smile that immediately signaled ‘I have no idea, but I can’t stand not having my hands on you’- an expression not of power or intent, but of longing. She really had no clue exactly how much she had missed out on over the years; her occasionally icy disposition led her to being viewed as occasionally unapproachable. That was by design… but only with people she didn’t like. With those closest to her, it was still a hell of a task to get her to drop the defenses, so it was a little surprising to her that doing exactly that made her realize the warmth that she craved. She’d been at arm's length with both physical and emotional intimacy and comfort since she was a child, and Sae, bless her heart, was not equipped to handle a precocious, very touch-starved little sibling. In her formative years, she struggled a lot to relate to the other kids, which is secretly what got her in with the Phantom Thieves. Eventually, all the spying she’d done illuminated her to the fact that these kids weren’t the enemy at all; in fact, they had a lot of commonalities between them. It meant that she had become a teenager too young, and she felt as though she’d turned into an adult far, far too quickly.
“Can I do the same?” Makoto asked.
Haru nodded, immediately robbed of air as Makoto let her hands drop, stopping just beneath her shoulders. Before Haru could even question where she was headed, Makoto leaned forward an inch and allowed each of her hands to cup both sides of Haru’s chest.
Each lay there for a moment, as if waiting to receive clearance from the other girl. Haru’s grip around Makoto’s waist tightened as she carefully mashed her palms into the skin above her pajama bottoms. She used her thumb to playfully roll the stretches of skin just to touch her in a more immediate, greedier fashion. Makoto responded with a sharp inhale, allowing her fingers a very gentle squeeze.
They were each so predictable, being reduced to a singular, hesitant, harmonious lament as they tried to wrap themselves in each other. Makoto nearly tensed up at the contact in such a specific place, but it was then and there where another sensation seemed to split the difference with her nervous system. She absorbed the touch, the pathetic drawl leaving her mouth as she hissed, but the hiss came apart at the seams as her jaw abruptly stretched to let out the unflattering whine. As a direct response, Haru gasped as her friend slowly but surely sank her nimble, calloused fingers into her. She was someone who, during masturbation, was often rather indulgent (and loud) and would fondle or grope herself endlessly in her pursuit of climax because she knew it made it easier. She hadn’t ever really registered that ‘touch’ was such a carnal thing for her, before it was just a way to get off. Now, it was something she hoped Makoto would do long after she climaxed, should she have been so lucky. The fabric already created such a warm, smooth, soft sensation to cradle her inside, but the added force and intent of Makoto’s hands outdid even her own. There was something about the difference, about knowing where you liked to be touched and just allowing yourself to go there by instinct, and letting someone else discover it for you, that created a tension that she found utterly magnificent. Makoto could only lie there, trying to fight the steadfast war between touching and being touched, her brain in a heated battle to try and focus more on a victor and failing as both remained having their own appeals.
Makoto liked the feeling of tactility. She wasn’t hugely well-endowed, strictly in the middle when it came to her friends in terms of how athletic she was, so the sensation was definitely new to her. Even through a layer of separation, there was a distinct edge to touching her with clothes on. It was like getting to unwrap a Christmas present, but she wanted to be thorough with her admiration. Haru, by far the Phantom Thief with the largest bust size, was miraculously responsive to examine and feel. Her breasts were heavy, even gentle kneading applied more force than she expected was necessary, but it felt satisfying too. It was just sensory information that her brain liked the feedback of, but as the seconds went on, she began to feel her thighs rubbing together out of pure instinct. Haru’s drip feed of sighs and hums were sugary, full of legitimate mirth that Makoto really felt turned on by. It was odd, sex was always something she envisioned being enjoyable, potentially even painful if her partner was into that sort of thing (Lord knows Makoto had received enough physical punishment over the years, she could take it. A little part of her even wanted to see just how much…), but something about this was different. Haru’s evident joy, the unhideable nervous grin that kept coming back between moans, it was exciting. Haru’s display of unbridled happiness was as much of a turn-on as anything ever had been, so when her hands began to sneak underneath Makoto’s own shirt, she said nothing of it.
The next kiss just sort of… happened.
There was nothing grand about it. As each of them grew bolder, it became an inevitability. As to whose gravitational pull was stronger, taking in the other to reciprocate with reckless abandon, neither could be sure, but the collapse came all the same. Makoto’s hands traveled down as their lips met again, this time their mouths parting just enough for each pair to absorb the other. When her fingers slowly, gently pressed the tips of her nails into Haru’s torso, and she dragged them upward at a snail’s pace, Haru shivered as the goosebumps she’d given Makoto earlier suddenly covered her from head to toe. The sensation was just short of a scratch; she no doubt had tiny pale markings that would eventually turn into thin red lines in a few minutes, but at no point was it painful. Makoto’s hands were unparalleled in dexterity, so maintaining the balance between ‘intense enough to register’ and ‘potentially drawing blood’ was one she straddled with ease.
Haru’s plan was to pull a reversal on Makoto and see how she liked being toyed with, to see how easy she would buckle under such a delicate touch. Unfortunately, as their kiss developed, it scrambled her priorities.
The satisfying smack of lips filled the room, as now that they’d cracked the code to make the act feel as satisfying as it looked in movies or TV, they couldn’t resist the urge to take part. They’d let the other in graciously only to greedily nibble on the top and corners of each other’s mouths, trying to find a way to less awkwardly pour themselves into one another, and only mostly succeeding. When Makoto finally latched onto Haru with some degree of measurable certainty, their tongues finally dispensing with the formality as they became the focal point of the kiss, and Haru allowed her one-handed grip on Makoto’s waist to slip beneath the hem of her pajama bottoms, grabbing a handful of her ass to finally get sounds to exit the girl that were as needy-sounding as her own.
Makoto’s ass was, in a word, enviable. It was practically well-documented that every other Phantom Thief at the bare minimum was jealous of it, but it was shockingly the other girls who seemed to pay the most attention to it. Ann had once practically sobbed into some crepes when she learned Makoto had earned her sculpted legs through little more than a light diet and exercise. She was merely one of those people gifted with a monstrous metabolism that made burning fat easy everywhere but there, not that she was all that bent out of shape about it. She didn’t take a whole lot of pride in her appearance beyond looking precisely as professional as she wanted to project, but she did take pride in knowing that even Ann, the literal supermodel, was jealous. Haru quickly discovered that despite it appearing just a bit on the larger side for someone of Makoto’s height and build, that it was impossibly firm, too. Makoto’s body had hardly even been exposed to her yet, but it was all firm. Soft skin that was pleasing to the touch, but beneath it was taut, lean muscle. Of all the Phantom Thieves, it was Makoto who had the most athletic and impressive physique. More built than Sumire or Futaba, but more aerodynamic than Ann or Haru, none of which was an inherent positive or negative… unless you were Haru and really had a thing for muscular girls.
When the two stopped from mutual exhaustion, they could hardly believe just how much energy they’d spent on foreplay alone… and how it didn’t deter them in the least. Sure, they’d stop for a moment, but the fatigue did not even remotely come close to impairing them in any sense. They just politely receded from one another, foreheads still touching in a subtle act of intimacy to retain some kind of connection they didn’t want to give up yet. Their hands remained firmly where they were before, Makoto’s now curved around to Haru’s back, gently running her fingernails over her skin very gently to keep up the electric sense of stimulation. Makoto felt her arousal deepen when Haru delivered a playful squeeze as she held onto her butt, palm now flat against one cheek as Haru lightly made circles where she desperately wished to touch, desiring the unencumbered skin more than she ever thought possible.
They pulled back, perusing the other and immediately chuckling as they were both recognizably messier each time they’d pulled the ol’ ‘start and stop’ routine. It entailed some very prolonged eye contact between the two that remained as strangely intimate as their kiss, strange as it sounds. It was something about merely taking in the silence around them with someone else, totally free from the burdens of the world elsewhere. They really had succeeded in making this feel like an escape.
“How you holding up?” Makoto asked, trying to be sure her voice was accidentally too loud as she was a few inches from Haru’s face.
Haru nodded repeatedly with enthusiastic glee.
“That second kiss… is that supposed to be what that feels like?” she wondered aloud.
Makoto lightly shrugged.
“I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to another one, so that’s something,” she said with an encouraging pat on the back underneath Haru’s sleepwear.
Haru chuckled.
“Is everything I’m doing alright?” she asked sweetly, eyes so wide they looked like expensive saucers
Makoto nodded.
“More than alright,” she confessed with a blush, “In fact, if you wanna go further with… uh… what we’re doing? Not sure how to phrase it. I mean, I’m down to keep going if you’re down.”
Rushed and inelegant, much to her chagrin, but she got her point across. In fact, Haru was merely happy she wasn’t the one who made the push; she was just thankful it happened, and she didn’t have to be the one to summon the courage. She’d found herself in a state of total helplessness, one where she didn’t know how much she could take before her body would start to malfunction from how ludicrously horny she’d allowed herself to become.
“And by ‘keep going,’ what do we mean, exactly? Anything goes?” Makoto asked, not trying to sound annoying or dismissive; she really just wanted clarity and communication.
At the end of the day, not upsetting her friend was the top priority, and everything else fell by the wayside, but judging how the heiress was looking at her right now, she didn’t have to worry much.
Haru briefly looked down at herself, but at the precise angle, Makoto wasn’t exactly sure where she’d focused her attention specifically. It wasn’t for long, but she craned her neck to look at something rather deliberately, so when she nervously made eye contact with Makoto, the tension of the unknown briefly set in again.
“I… think so,” she said, finding her certainty more with each word, “Anything.”
Haru pushed herself up so that she was still on her side, facing her friend, but allowed herself support, angling one arm diagonally, the flat of her palm pressed into the bed. At first, Makoto thought that she was maneuvering to kiss her from an angle where she’d be looking down, but she didn’t stop there.
The chesnut-haired heiress then summoned the courage she’d been building in her head over the last… how long had they been there? Didn’t matter. She wanted to be just a little bit bold for once. Just a little bit exciting. She’d felt the dynamic between the two subtly favor Makoto as they became more involved, so before that was inevitably set in stone, she would allow herself a final power grab.
Haru straddled Makoto, getting a yelp out of her as she plopped her center of gravity right atop Makoto’s, completely barring her from moving if she wanted to… but she very much didn’t. Despite initial reluctance, she couldn’t deny the magnetism of this girl now placing her legs on either side of her waist and leaning over her, looming like some curious guardian angel whose curiosity with humankind had led it astray.
Her hands were on either side of Makoto’s shoulders, and she looked down at her. Soft, cozy, beautiful, benevolent Haru. Nothing about the sight in front of her was anything other than purely inviting, so why did she feel some strange twinge of fear as the other girl’s weight seemed to lock her in place?
She leaned down, shifting her weight as her head moved in slightly from one side, stopping herself when she was just a few inches short of Makoto’s ear and jawline.
“And I mean anything,” Haru cooed sweetly, “I didn’t think it would happen so fast, but… I want this. I really. I want this so bad. Do you feel that?”
Haru’s hips rolled forward, the kinetic energy flowing directly from her own center into Makoto’s.
Makoto was a little less internally embarrassed now that she knew Haru was, at the very least, as wet as she was.
“Yeah,” Makoto huskily answered.
Haru was grinding on her. The two damp fabrics wrestled and writhed as both of them fruitlessly used the friction to satisfy something, but it just wasn’t enough. Not even close. Besides, each of them was far too eager to see the other undressed to deny themselves any longer.
“Is this strange?” Haru asked, still rather quiet, but now her face just looked down at Makoto, no semblance of a disparity in the power she held over the girl beneath her; she just happened to be there.
Not that either of them were complaining.
“Is what strange?” Makoto asked after licking her lips.
The way Haru’s button-up was just big enough to allow her tits copious breathing room without a bra, right in front of her face, even though they were almost wholly obscured, made her mouth water without her even wholly realizing why. Makoto hadn’t really thought about ‘boobs’ beyond her own; if a cute girl had nice ones, sure, it was a little bonus; it just wasn’t the focal point… but she would’ve been a fool not to realize the gift she’d been given with Haru in front of her.
“Me,” she answered, moving just a little closer, “Being here, telling you how much I want you to fuck me. Everything was status quo an hour ago… now I want to kiss you everywhere you’ll let me. It’s hard not to feel like too much.”
Makoto giggled, unable to tear the slack-jawed awe wholly from her face as she continued admiring both how Haru looked, but also how she felt. Even when she wasn’t moving, most of her weight was pressed against Makoto’s waist, stimulating her to a near agonized state. She nearly ground her teeth, it became so hard not to try and rub herself into a more ‘becoming’ state, but who was she kidding? That wasn’t what this was.
“You aren’t too much,” Makoto said, raising a hand to stroke Haru’s cheek and tuck a tress of curls behind her ear, “Nothing wrong with being into it. I will admit it’s… exciting. Moving fast like this,”
Haru looked at her with just the mildest bit of skepticism.
“Not too fast?” she checked, “It really won’t matter if we stop. I won’t be angry, I swear.”
Haru delicately grabbed Makoto’s hand before it left her cheek, taking it into her own hands and delivering a kiss just below her knuckles on the back of her hand. Makoto shook her head.
“Not too fast,” she answered, “It’s just-”
Makoto suddenly… laughed? Not a chuckle, not a giggle, she had finally stopped her vain attempt to hold herself back, and laughed in such an unflattering manner that it immediately became cause for mild concern. She covered her eyes like a child before sliding them down, dragging the skin on her face into bunches until she released herself.
She stifled herself, still unable to take out the humorous tenor in her voice.
“It’s just so odd,” she confessed, “We’re actually making out! I’m looking at you, and it feels so strange… I really do want this. I want you. It’s just-”
“Very weird,” Haru interrupted, her own acknowledged smile replacing a relieved one, as she was worried she may have pushed her friend into delirium.
“It is,” Makoto nodded, looking Haru up and down again, “You really are so gorgeous, Haru. The entire rest of the world is missing out, not getting to touch you.”
It was strange, receiving a… platonic sexual compliment? Was that how she was going to refer to it? It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it actually comforted her a great deal. There was always the minor worry that this could’ve been rash decision-making that could blow up in their faces, but the compliment wasn’t given with the context or tone of romance or unrequited feelings. It was friendly, it was sexual in nature, and the words were spoken with love… but that was all.
It went both ways, too. Makoto could only feel further secured in her choice to be open with Haru first and foremost. The fact that they were able to be so frank with one another so suddenly, damn near in the throes of passion, said a lot more than either would’ve figured.
“Please,” Haru dismissed, “I think getting to grab your butt added a year to my lifespan. I can only be grateful.”
Makoto felt like a switch had been flipped in her brain. Being driven by base, primal instincts wasn’t new to her, but in this context, it was a hell of a change. Before, those impulses were based on pattern recognition and had to do with combat almost explicitly. This was different. It was recreational. Purely at her control, too. She felt more ownership over this desire. More control. When you were Makoto, that was always what you wanted just a little more of.
She wanted Haru. She wanted to make her feel good because… well, she was a friend. She was beautiful. She was a teammate. Makoto loved her, and she loved Makoto, but the ironclad bond between them made that mutual love stable. In a way, fulfilling an act of devotion for each other like this, filling the need that nobody else could hope to, it was the ultimate act of friendship. The final frontier of validation.
And God, did Haru want her back.
“Is it weird that I wanna kiss you again?” Makoto asked, her confidence really beginning to melt away.
Haru shook her head.
“That last one was fun, so I sure hope it isn’t,” Haru reassured her, “You make me feel so… safe.”
She lunged downward, putting her tongue in Makoto’s mouth with zero warning. It was something that should’ve felt invasive or gross, but instead, it was shockingly relaxing when she was able to fully allow herself the presence of mind. It was new, it was different, and it felt like trying to actively calm down her partner from going too excited, exploratory lashing into something more sedate, slow, and comfortable. The noises each of them made became irresistible to the other, and it began to evolve into not a game of simple comforts, but a competition to unlock the noise that made their spine tingle the most.
Haru grew bold during the kiss, allowing a hand to begin to explore Makoto’s chest, when-
DING-DONG
Both of them froze for an agonizingly long moment, ultimately paving the way for Haru to lean over to the right, reaching as far as she could to grab her phone. She tapped the screen, immediately deflating as she looked back to Makoto. It was extremely rare to see Haru outright frown.
“Our… food is here,” she said, setting the phone back down and sliding off the edge of the bed.
It was a good thing she was in a hurry, because the moment she rushed out of the room to hastily grab their order, Makoto couldn’t help but laugh again.
It was probably the fastest meal of both of their lives, as they both were hit with the two-pronged reasoning of ‘they were each incredibly hungry’ and ‘they wanted to return to their previous activity as soon as humanly possible,’ which certainly sped the entire process along. They couldn’t just wolf it down at top speed, sadly, as Haru knew that heartburn and stomach issues would come soon after, and neither one of them wanted to be incapacitated by the least sexy bodily issue you could suffer from when trying to have sex.
Once the leftovers had faithfully been stored away by Haru, and she returned to the bedroom, she found the other girl sitting up in place, posture relaxed, smile delicately perched onto her twin rosy lips that Haru absolutely wasn’t staring at while they ate. At least she didn’t have to worry about wanting to get Makoto right back into the swing of things.
Haru hopped up on the bed, scooting herself forward so that she sat right next to Makoto in front of her own pillows, and gently lay her head down on the brunette’s shoulder.
“So… we good to pick up where we left off?” Makoto asked, tone indicating she was still gauging how Haru was feeling.
Haru tilted her head up, yawned, and stretched out her arms, once again appearing like one of those very spoiled, fluffy white cats you saw rich people own in movies. Makoto couldn’t tell if it was just the mood or not, but she found it rather cute.
Haru turned to her with a brief but enthusiastic nod.
“You’ll have to remind me where that was, again,” Haru said, rubbing the back of her head awkwardly, “After a little break, it kinda feels like the entire last hour was a dream. A good one, of course!”
Haru’s attempt at a course correction was a little flaccid, but also deeply appreciated. She wanted to continue the momentum without rushing her. She may not have projected the idea of complete and utter selflessness, but whoever did end up with Haru was going to be very, very lucky one day.
“Well, we were somewhere around… here,” Makoto said, leaning towards Haru before giving her a peck on the cheek.
It surprised her, making her perk up, blush, and then her posture collapsed just a bit as she angled towards Makoto by a few degrees.
“Ah, of course, I remember now,” Haru feigned with a giggle, “This… can I be honest? I am a trifle nervous. Not because of you! Just, in general.”
Makoto nodded in understanding.
“Anything you need from me? Want from me? This is about having a nice time, Haru. I don’t want to impede that. I know our delivery derailment might mean we need to work back up to where we were,” Makoto offered.
Haru shook her head. While relieved, Makoto would’ve gladly just… done it all again. It wasn’t as though her pajama bottoms were going to go anywhere besides directly into the wash when she got back home, after all. Besides, making her wait a long time again sounded like it could’ve yielded some pretty great rewards if they played their cards right.
“Nope. Just… be a little slow with me, okay?” Haru asked, “I’ll probably have to do the same, if that’s okay?”
Whatever the reasoning for her hesitancy, or if she was merely just being cautious with zero founding, it didn’t matter. Makoto may have been eager to ramp things up, but not at the cost of her friend’s comfort. This was about discovery. Exploration. You usually didn’t find anything worthwhile without those things.
“Very okay,” she insisted, “If there’s anything you want from me specifically, just ask.”
Haru nodded defiantly, another gesture Makoto couldn’t help but find a new added layer of cuteness in. Part of her wanted Haru to ask her to do something, just because the idea of Haru being even a little demanding in bed was a massive turn-on for reasons she couldn’t articulate, but she wasn’t going to punish Haru for her indecision either. She’d be on autopilot unless otherwise instructed.
As Makoto leaned over, Haru carefully eyed her hands as they traveled from her friend’s sides to out in front of her, settling near Haru’s neckline, the flat of her palms resting just over where her top collar ended, and her skin began. Makoto’s fingers splayed outwards, covering a good deal of exposed skin, the tips of her longer fingers just barely grazing Haru’s neck in a way that nearly made her shiver again.
For a brief, incandescent moment, she thought about having those fingers gently move themselves upwards. She envisioned Makoto hesitantly, carefully easing the digits over the length of her neck. She imagined feeling them tighten just enough to get a little bit of a head rush, just enough pain to make it exciting. It was like when the adrenaline hit when battling in Mementos or a Palace, it somehow made the world feel more real.
Instead, the fingers went lower, and lower, and lower as Makoto ghosted her hands over the surface of Haru’s satin top. Occasionally, a stray fiber or piece of hair that seemed to cling to her nightwear would tug at the slight motion, nearly making Haru feel like her clothes were just about to be removed. It was just enough of a taste of it to crave more. Makoto knew better than to jump the gun, and instead, her hands went back to the bottom of her shirt, but not near the hem. Instead, they just floated around her waist for a moment, until they both moved to unfasten the bottom button, holding themselves in place so Makoto could confer with absolute certainty that-
“Do it,” Haru said, “Be slow, but… yes. Don’t ask. Just touch me.”
It wasn’t quite a command, not with the way Haru said it, but Makoto obeyed it as though it were one.
Makoto unbuttoned Haru’s shirt like she was hastily diffusing a bomb. Her typical elegance was foregone in favor of nervous shakes that still, thankfully, were enough to undo the first of the buttons. Makoto figured this was going to be part of the girl’s game, having to methodically undress her as some kind of power move, but it was clear that any such intent (had it ever existed at all) was long gone now. She wanted her top off, and the sooner it happened, the better. Makoto nearly felt bad for not assuming her reasoning to be more… wholesome? Could one be topless for wholesome reasons? Regardless, her partner had no intention of projecting anything other than her very real want.
Makoto looked on at Haru with enough sincere awe to earn another blush from her. Seeing the article of clothing lazily draped over the girl’s creamy skin once she finished, only to cling to her, disheveled, as she kept her arms pressed to her sides at first out of sheer embarrassment. The moment she shimmied or shook herself at all, it would abandon her altogether, and she’d be entirely half-naked.
Maybe Haru did enjoy playing with her food a little bit.
She allowed herself to briefly drink in Makoto’s appreciation, even while she still hadn’t technically seen anything yet. It was rare that anyone got looked at with an expression like the one she currently had.
Haru shook herself free, exposing herself to Makoto, nearly making the brunette go dizzy.
Context was everything. Makoto had seen most of her female compatriots in states of various undress through all kinds of everyday, casual circumstances. Even Haru specifically hadn’t avoided the others seeing her, but this was just so, so different. Seeing other girls naked or undressed was always right at the corner of their eye, in brief moments of disrobing in changing rooms or saunas, even just putting on pajamas in the same room, you were bound to see some skin. The difference was simple: Makoto, ever the chaste and polite, was never looking for said skin. Even when she was explicitly interested, as girls piqued her curiosity sooner than she probably cared to admit, she made a mindful choice to minimize her own leering. Was that more from internalized shame rather than general good manners? Perhaps, but she nonetheless held firm. That didn’t mean her eyes expressly avoiding the way any given swimsuit clung to Haru wasn’t a challenge in the past, however.
Haru was, of course, red as the blood her heart was pumping at top speed through her body as Makoto’s eyes positively raked over her. Her sharp, analytical gaze seemed to have a physical effect on her, examining her in close detail as she crawled forward, almost unaware she was even moving. It was like she had to examine her from top to bottom, as the sight had somehow unearthed appreciation for what she was already looking at, as well.
With the bra off, the swell of her tits gave way, freeing her from all confines. She wore nudity incredibly well, but with the chemicals swimming around Makoto’s brain at the present moment, she could only re-examine the heiress to gawk appropriately. Her build was the perfect meeting point between athletic and curvy, favoring the latter as she’d probably been the least active of the Thieves post-disbanding, but that didn’t mean there was anything less to be impressed by. The way the nape of her neck curved down so elegantly into her chest, the way she playfully arched her back forward just an inch as she pretended to stretch, trying to alleviate some of the tension and failing in. Makoto tried to estimate, figuring Haru was probably nearing a full D-cup, her heart-shaped figure full of tasteful curvature from every possible angle, making it just a little harder to tell. She couldn’t help but notice the goosebumps that had practically become contagious through their contact, covering her boobs, subtly earth-toned nipples pointing outward before they even fully hit the air-conditioned room’s atmosphere.
The closer she got, the more she found herself comparing her to… sweets.
Even though she’d already tasted it, somehow, Makoto was certain that if she were to fully commit to giving her friend a hickey, that Haru’s skin would taste like hazelnut. She remembered Haru’s old holiday shampoo she’d used this last Christmas that made her hair smell of cinnamon. Haru’s open mouth made her think of some kind of sweet, tart cherry filling at the center of some fancy European chocolate that Haru would’ve brought to a group meeting. The slight amount of sun she’d let burn her as much as the sun could with her specific skin tone didn’t make her look raw and freshly red, but just burnt enough, like some kind of toasted, flaky pastry you couldn’t pronounce the name of. Even the girl’s big, brown, cocoa-tinted pupils were the exact shade of some obscenely expensive truffle.
“Hey Makoto?” Haru asked, ripping Makoto away from her odd, mental foodie excursion.
Makoto blinked, dragging her pupils up to meet Haru’s to at least look like she was paying attention. Her eyes never felt heavier.
“Yeah?” Makoto said, immediately wetting her lips.
Haru let out a low chuckle.
“I don’t mean to rush you… and there are plenty of worse feelings than being admired, but if you don’t do something soon, I’m going to have to start without you,” she said slyly, a small undercurrent of helplessness just barely audible.
Makoto nodded quickly, moving in closer, lowering her head down from being roughly eye-level to shoulder-level.
She felt a bit ridiculous, even a bit crass, doing it, but she did the only thing she could think to do; she put each of Haru’s boobs in her palms, her fingers slowly pressing into the flesh, relenting, and then slowly squeezing again, repeating the process with slightly more momentum each time until she discovered the steady rhythm Haru wanted to syncopate with.
Haru let out a long exhale, anxious, hot breath licking Makoto’s forehead, her bangs gently tickling her, providing her with a counterpoint sensation she easily and wilfully ignored. She did her best not to sound like the pathetic, whiny mess she feared she would become, but once Makoto cracked a smile, still massaging her with care that only just infringed on being a little rough, she started letting loose quiet, hushed expletives. It was exactly how she wanted to start, precisely her speed, and Makoto had somehow just intuited it.
“I feel kinda lame saying you have really amazing tits,” Makoto said, the crass word tumbling out of her mouth clumsily, “Kind of a low-hanging fruit as far as compliments go.”
Haru did not care. To let Makoto know precisely how much she didn’t care, she finally just dropped the respectability altogether and moaned. With her higher-pitched, sweet tone of voice, it was a little more like a whine that bent up in pitch at the end when Makoto pressed into her a little more.
“You… know… what?” Haru cooed, shivering into Makoto’s hands, freezing, and then relaxing herself once more, “I don’t think… it’s lame… at all. I like… it. I think people… assume… that I get that a lot… so I don’t… hear it often. Or ever.”
It wasn’t like she didn’t trust Haru; it was just so hard to believe. She thought she could always count on the cat-callers and loud assholes of the world to at least let a beautiful woman know why she was beautiful, even if it came at the expense of their dignity, comfort, or personal sense of boundaries. Those guys were always gonna exist, so you might as well take the few positives you can wring out of being humiliated. It was probably better that Haru didn’t have a constant cavalcade of men (or women) constantly openly commenting on her body… but they all knew better. They knew people said things. They were at the school where the notorious Kamoshida incident happened, of course. Haru had probably been leered at by a good many people because, well, of course, she was. Being the rich, pretty girl made you a prize, after all, even if you didn’t ask for anyone’s opinion.
But those people did not get to look at what Makoto was looking at. They didn’t get to hear the small noises she made in response to every shift of her friend’s touch. They couldn’t appreciate how the volume of her exclamations steadily seemed to increase as the seconds rolled on.
Makoto leaned forward to whisper into Haru’s ear, earning her another gasp. She really loved it when she managed to do that to her.
“Well, you do now,” Makoto said with a smile, “You’re so soft… I could do this forever.”
She really could. Haru was that perfect combo of soft and firm, her curves hiding an impressive set of muscles, but it was beneath such an admirably flawless figure. She was built the way you’d envision some Olympian Goddess; it was just so easy for Makoto to see her draped in a kind of unattainable divinity, her eyes remaining sinful, wandering enough to convince the mere mortals lucky enough to see her that maybe they had a chance.
“I don’t think I’d mind if… you… did,” Haru said, pushing her bust forward just a little bit more, “But you can always do more.”
Makoto didn’t need to be told twice. She’d secretly been hoping for some kind of signal, any kind of sign that Haru was ready to continue, but it was just so easy to get lost in whatever she was doing currently. Her anticipation for the immediate future and her utter contentment were at war, but of course, the present is always fleeting.
The brunette dropped her hands, looking at her attentively just to be sure.
“More as in…?” Makoto led and intentionally trailed off.
“Whatever you want,” Haru reassured her, punctuating herself with a giggle that snuck up on her, “I just know you’re holding back. I can tell.”
She was just a little self-satisfied, and Makoto wanted to humble her. Just a little bit.
“So… you want me to…?” Makoto kept her steady, inquisitive tenor.
Haru narrowed her gaze with her uneasy grin, maintaining eye contact for a few unblinking seconds until she threw her head back with impatient laughter. Makoto could only watch as her shoulders temporarily lifted her bust, making her nipples almost exactly equal to where Makoto’s mouth currently was.
She licked her lips again. A little bit of drool in the corner. Oh well.
“Yes!” Haru insisted, letting out a horny, frustrated groan, “Whatever you want.”
Haru’s head remained angled at the ceiling, the top of it pressed gently into the bed’s headboard. She covered her eyes with her hands, groaning again as Makoto couldn’t help but just sit there and laugh, a big, silly smile on her face the likes of which none of the Thieves had ever been privy to.
“I’m gonna need some details Haruuuuu~,” Makoto teased.
Oh, this is fun.
Haru dropped her hands, but her head remained in place.
“Makoto, for the love of God, put your mouth somewhere on my body before I go to the bathroom, finger myself, and take a very long nap in my very nice bathtub!” she exclaimed, partially joking, partially serious.
Makoto’s laugh just deepened. She adjusted her position, straddling Haru, to sit up, lifting herself onto her knees so she could look down at her from above.
“I’m sorry for teasing,” she said plainly, before she leaned down and kissed Haru again.
Something about this kiss was different. There was less… gravity. Less melodrama. It felt more casual. It felt… easier. It was somehow, paradoxically, more intimate even if it was a little lazier. Haru’s small hum of approval came when she detected that Makoto was absolutely taking her time like languid, more careless licks that she happily returned as best she could. At this angle, Makoto’s dominance was practically assured, and both of them were exploiting that to its full potential.
When they separated, Haru didn’t look embarrassed, finally. She just grinned, happy this had evolved into the exact brand of casual intimacy she sought out. Suddenly, things felt like they would be easier.
“I guess I just didn’t expect this to be so fun,” Makoto said, “I figured it would be more about the bottom line.”
Haru utilized her place beneath the other girl to snake her arms around Makoto’s waist as though she were just holding her for stability’s sake, but Haru quickly showed the action to be a ruse. She slipped her hands beneath the hem of Makoto’s pajamas, palms and fingers gripping the top of her ass.
Makoto let out an awkward ‘oop!’ as her posture wobbled for a moment, her center of gravity shifting just enough to destroy her equilibrium. Haru used the opportunity to grab hold of Makoto tightly, throw her body weight into a momentum-infused swing that included the both of them, getting them both to yelp and squeak as Makoto found herself pressed into the mattress, the two of them now horizontally on their bed instead of vertically. It was thankfully so big that it didn’t matter, and no one’s legs had to awkwardly dangle.
Both girls, still in a persisting lasting giggle fit, began to kiss one another, pull away, and kiss the other in a new spot before they’d find a way to interrupt each other. It was a blurry, rushed mess of lips and tongues and childish shoving as they did their best to ‘combat’ the other.
The tone of the physical contact shifted once Makoto nestled herself against Haru’s left shoulder after getting her back flat on the mattress, and licked carefully from the top of her breast to the inside of her neck. Haru blinked in slow motion, her core finding itself swallowed by the molten arousal she’d felt as soon as they’d started this all over again. Makoto knew she’d derailed them, the confident glint in her eye making a fierce return.
“You know what?” Makoto asked, “You’d think you’d be sick of being spoiled, but here we are. I’m looking at you and… I kinda wanna spoil you a little. How about it?”
Haru did not know where this confidence came from, maybe it was law school, but she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Wherever Makoto had gotten it, thank God it found her, because she was as wet as she’d ever been and Makoto hadn’t even touched her there yet.
The heiress just nodded.
“You really are so pretty, Makoto,” Haru said, looking at her as Makoto positioned herself above her once again.
Makoto leaned down, finally committing to what she knew she had been too shy to attempt before.
“You don’t have to butter me up,” she insisted, “But, seriously, Haru… I think you’re so sexy.”
She spoke in a slow, husky whisper. Haru whimpered.
Unlike some of their previously traded compliments, that one had fully stopped Haru in her tracks. Makoto said that with such simple, uncomplicated confidence. Before they had been timidly choking on their compliments, not used to the way the words felt rolling off their tongues and into the ears of another woman. This was spoken with conviction.
“Oh, stop,” Haru said, “You’re just… you’re so easy to want, Makoto. You’re breathtaking, you know?”
And with that, they were on an even playing field, which meant words were no longer adequate. Makoto had to respond, her voice an inadequate tool that her mouth thankfully wasn’t.
She moved herself down, immediately beginning to trace a circle around Haru’s right nipple with the tip of her tongue. Haru nearly recoiled in ecstasy, the hot, eager sensation tracing expertly drawn lines and shapes with finesse. Makoto’s eyes remained fixed upward the entire time she did it, watching precisely how Haru reacted to every fine detail of the attention she showered her in. The closer she got to the center, the more Haru’s body would almost surge forward in response, as though some unseen magnetism was literally pulling her from where her body eagerly rested with no precise intent.
“Ohhhhhh Mako, baby, please keep going,” Haru intoned, “You’re f-f-f-far more of t-tease than I expected!”
Makoto, totally thrown for a loop at the usage of not one but two pet names in the same sentence, couldn’t help but feel as though she was tormenting her to some extent.
“I didn’t really expect to enjoy it so much,” Makoto said, “I just… really like how you taste, Miss Okumura.”
Haru very nearly opened her mouth to complain that her incessant theatricality was becoming unbearable, but Makoto’s words hit her like a bullet. She still spoke so casually, with no formal cadence whatsoever, a talent Haru was not really afforded growing up the way she did. Everything from her laugh to her ecstatic moaning had a demure air to it. She said it like she really was only just now discovering her affinity for this sort of play… because she was. The heiress could only wonder how long it would’ve taken to ‘awaken’ this side of Makoto without a little bit of ‘encouragement’ which allowed her some form of pride.
Something about the way she said Miss Okumura just completely wrecked her. The way she looked up at her for approval like that.
She felt a wet streak trail the interior of her thigh, a sensation so surreal that she nearly felt like something was wrong with her. She’d been aroused before, but to this extent? She couldn’t help but feel utterly pathetic, the moisture between her legs collecting and lightly dance down her skin. The sensation was so barely detectable that she didn’t shiver until it had dripped onto her now-worthless underwear, no doubt.
“Look at me, Mako-chan,” she said gently.
Makoto forfeited the mischievous upper hand she’d been flirting with, immediately receding into whatever it was that Haru was about to ask her.
She did.
“I really want you to use your mouth more. Can you do that for me?” she asked, stroking the back of Makoto’s head, feeling the length of her hair brush against her palm.
Haru eased Makoto forward, exactly where she wanted her, and Makoto complied with a newfound purpose.
Makoto latched onto her nipple, wrapping her lips around it and beginning to suck as she closed her eyes and savored the feeling, as Haru’s grip on her head faltered as she felt the sensation for the first time. It was so much different than the times when she’d touch herself in the bath and give herself a curious, speculative pinch that would always both excite her and bring her a jolt of painful stimulation at the same time. The care, the patient speed of Makoto’s movement, it felt like this two-person dance they’d been doing had ended, and now, they’d become something that joined in total unity. Haru felt like the pleasure was being siphoned out of her, and then back in again as Makoto diligently, thoroughly sucked, feeling it harden in her mouth.
Haru still clutched Makoto’s head in her one hand, and when she finally found it within her to open her eyes, finding Makoto beaming at her with nothing but her two bloodstained pupils, as wide, bright, and perfectly round as the sun itself. Makoto dipped her neck forward to synchronize how she drew it into her mouth in the same pattern as Haru seemed to be breathing. She’d begin to relax, her body unwinding and allowing for Makoto to slow her speed, their eyes meeting and locking as her friend attended to her.
She brought in Makoto to be just a little closer, pressing her into her own torso all the more, but she didn’t mind. With her free hand, she gently cupped Makoto’s and slid her fingers to her wrist, and then brought up the brunette’s first hand to gently place her hand between her breasts, resting mostly on the one she was focused on. Haru then brought up Makoto’s other hand to the other side, the series of actions quickly clicking with the brunette as she proceeded to lightly put her hands around it as she sucked. All her attention was focused on a single point of stimulation, and Haru’s plentiful sounds of approval encouraged her to be leisurely about it.
“That feels so nice, Mako-chan,” she hummed, “You’re such a pretty girl. You make me feel so good.”
Haru was normally so… aristocratic? No, that wasn’t quite it. A bit overly ornate when it came to her language? Perhaps. It faded with time, particularly as her speech began to take on the characteristics of her friends more and more, but there was something about hearing her like this, full of want and reduced to basic verbiage that her brain had little choice but to surrender to.
Makoto detached herself, and Haru immediately looked like she was in some kind of pain, wincing as the eye contact went from thrillingly erotic to earnestly worried she’d never get to feel her friend’s mouth on her again.
“Anything for you, Miss Okumura,” she said, leaning down to plant a series of kisses just underneath Haru’s jawline, “I’ll do anything… to raise my grade. I’ve got so~ many extracurriculars that I just… couldn’t keep up. Will you let me try?”
She squirmed, her look of discomfort morphing into confusion that quickly dissipated once Haru realized exactly what Makoto was doing.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t believe that Makoto was actually trying this; it was more that it was working.
“Of course, Mako-c-chan,” she sputtered, “I know you’ll do a good job. Such a smart, pretty girl.”
Haru’s performance was hardly as convincing as Makoto’s, but it was the effort that ignited something in both of them. The mere fact that they were even speaking while doing something so intimate, had they imagined themselves doing this more than an hour ago, neither would’ve predicted many fully-formed sentences would make it out of them. Even when Haru misspoke, she managed to trip over herself with an elegance that Makoto was shocked could be maintained.
She altered her position just enough to angle herself towards the half of Haru she hadn’t serviced yet, eyes wide and breathing a bit more labored than it had been. Makoto could feel how wet Haru had become beneath those silk pants, and thank God she had the money to buy more, otherwise Makoto would’ve felt guilty rather than proud of her own performance.
“You’re my favorite teacher,” Makoto said, hungrily lunging forward and repeating her earlier treatment.
This time, Makoto kept her eyes shut to savor the pure sensory experience of it all, just like before. Haru struggled to meet her eyes but saw how deeply ‘into it’ the other woman looked, now making some of the very noises of satisfaction that had vacated her own mouth minutes ago. She greedily suckled with various hums and exhales, coupled conversely with inhales that felt distinctly like Makoto was trying to drink her very scent.
Haru felt like her entire body was buzzing with a mild electricity; it was the only way she could explain the feeling.
When Makoto detached herself, her eyes curiously peered back up towards Haru, an inquisitiveness in them that hadn’t been there before.
She took her lips in her own as soon as Makoto shifted to allow Haru to move beneath her, which hadn’t been on the brunette’s agenda, but she allowed the initiative to be stolen from her just to see what was going to happen. She had no clue where she planned on taking this at the moment, so she just decided to go with the flow. Haru was typically not a woman who prided herself on the unexpected, so relishing the surprise factor with her was… tantalizing, to some extent.
The kiss had a power Haru didn’t tap into before. It was forceful, Makoto nearly yelping into her friend’s mouth when Haru once again hurriedly ran her fingers up the base of her spine, fingers dragging against the skin of her neck, until she took hold of the back of her head again. Makoto intuited the next series of movements, allowing her body weight to free Haru as she lifted herself up from lying down, but never once threatened to loosen her grip on Makoto.
She looked down at her, a hesitant smile on her face that resembled something like a mixture of both concern and apprehension, excitement acting as the tincture that fully encompassed just whatever this high she was experiencing currently was. Makoto didn’t really know where this was going, merely that she was along for the ride.
Haru had never expected herself to enjoy being on either end of a power dynamic like this. She assumed sex would be best when the participants were on as equal a playing field as possible… an assumption she learned was short-sighted rather quickly. Makoto went from the instigator to the one willing to forego power willingly, allowing her to look down at the teammate she’d seen act as a defensive, ass-kicking bulwark back when they fought side-by-side, feeling as though she’d done something to elevate herself above her. Makoto channeled her subservient inclinations into her widened eyes, which had gone from greedy and lustful to eagerly willing to see what would be done if she just… let go.
Haru held the back of Makoto’s head in her palm, running her thumb gently across the shorter hairs at the base of her skull.
“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” Haru cooed.
A command with the delicacy of a heartfelt request. Makoto didn’t hesitate or even bat an eye; she remained totally in place, submitting as she complied.
The Phantom Thief formerly known as ‘Noir’ had to regulate her own willpower as the girl in her arms obeyed, looking at her expectantly after being such a merciless tease. It was like she played into the dynamic with the intent of having it subverted on her eventually, something neither of them could’ve known she was into beforehand, but seemingly just discovered in the process. It was exactly what experimentation was for, wasn’t it?
With her free hand, she stroked Makoto’s cheek, wiping a bead of sweat that threatened to run from her forehead down to her jawline, but it was interrupted by a clinical, agile swipe of a single digit.
Makoto felt… a little humiliated. Here she was, mouth agape, mild anxiety in her eyes as her pupils dug into Haru’s looking for something that could explain why she was actually doing this or what she even expected to happen next. The feeling of helplessness was controlled, to some extent, it was something she had to deliberately play into, but it didn’t feel any less real in the moment.
Haru pursed her lips together, allowed a wash of saliva to coat her tongue inside her mouth, and did the only thing she could think to do, the only thing that felt right as her friend awaited her next move, tongue eagerly waiting within the border of her unfathomably soft lips. Looking at her for too long made it easier. Haru didn’t even need to remember how utterly hypnotizing Makoto’s sculpted abdomen was in order to feel like she could just reflexively drool over her, quite literally.
She was beginning to learn that shutting her eyes made this kind of thing a lot more exciting to her.
Makoto couldn’t help but feel her toes curl and the rest of her body follow suit, a wave of warmth rippling through her that began in her heels, traveled upward, and ended right at the tip of her tongue. The odd, mildly uncomfortable, unflattering act of recipience rewarded her before anything even made any contact. Haru’s own eyes widened as she could hardly believe she was watching or even remotely taking part of this; a long, clear strand of liquid formed from collecting on her own tongue, allowing its integrity to remain as it dropped seamlessly from her own mouth right into Makoto’s.
It was warm, in fact, it was hot, tinted by Haru’s incessant pants from Makoto’s ministrations earlier. It didn’t really taste like anything, or, at least, Makoto’s mouth was already so thoroughly decorated by her that she was simply used to whatever difference it made. She almost preferred it not to stimulate that sense, as the mere touch of it felt like too much to handle. It felt molten; it didn’t even feel wholly pleasant, but somehow, that made it better. Makoto rigidly stilled herself once the initial shockwave of it all tore through her, allowing her tongue to dampen with Haru in abundance. It was excessive, it felt strange, and Makoto probably would’ve sat there for another straight minute of Haru funneling herself into her like that, purely as a showcase of just how committed she was to making this experience worthwhile.
God, please kiss me.
It pooled onto Makoto’s tongue, and she waited patiently until Haru had finished before she swallowed it all. Thankfully, Haru was on a very similar page.
Before she could even fully close her mouth, his lips were forcefully parted by Haru’s tongue again, allowing Makoto to moan into her own physical collapse. Haru, even now, was so gentle with every touch, no matter where or with what.
She slid her hand up Makoto’s thigh as she turned her body clockwise, once again pushing herself up to prop her back against the headboard. Makoto released her but eagerly dove under Haru’s arm to reposition herself, now very nearly cradled by her friend as they met to kiss again and reconnect. The heiress found Makoto’s thigh again, not paying a single bit of mind to the fact that two layers of fabric still separated her from her destination. She could hardly believe that she, of all people, had reduced Makoto Nijima to this, the damp spot on her clothing suddenly making her feel much better about her own lack of self-control or restraint.
It was difficult to find reasons to keep holding back, so she didn’t.
Haru had been carefully sidling her hand up and down the length of perhaps the second most sensitive area on Makoto’s entire body at the moment, and as she slid it upward for the final time, she just kept going, brushing over her core just enough to earn the most pained sound from the girl she’d heard all evening, which was abruptly silenced when she hooked her fingers under the hem of her pants and underwear, far too eager to maintain decorum.
Her eyes shot open as she yelped out of the kiss when Haru cupped between her legs, index and ring finger finding her lips to see just how little friction her movements had, given that she was so aroused.
Haru giggled.
“You’re so smooth… surely, you didn’t shave for me in such a short amount of time?” Haru asked, marveling at Makoto’s apparent thorough diligence.
Makoto hooked her right arm over Haru’s shoulders and neck for leverage as she was even further cradled by her, her other arm gripping Haru’s opposite shoulder tightly just so she could very, very, very subtly rock her hips into the other woman’s movements.
“N-No… M-Miss Okumura,” Makoto said, grip tightening further as she struggled to maintain their little game, “I j-just like to be w-well m-manicured.”
That part was simply true. Makoto didn’t have a distaste for body hair in general, just more her own. As the Thieves' careers progressed in high school, Makoto leaned more and more into her latent athleticism, which made her a good deal more androgynous. It was why she ditched the haircut she’d had all throughout high school once she graduated. She thought she wore the more ‘ambiguous’ thing well, even if she still coded herself distinctly feminine. She’d never been a girly girl, but also the tomboy label didn’t quite feel right to her; wherever she was presently, she was comfortable in her own skin. Around when she started to develop more lean muscle, she started feeling way more self-conscious about the aforementioned body hair. It just didn’t make her feel comfortable in her own skin, and for whatever reason, it led to her being pretty stringent when it came to maintaining herself. It felt like it pushed the dial too far away from how she wanted to appear, which meant she had to become adept at shaving her arms, legs, and anywhere else the frequently itchy, occasionally coarse hairs would pop up. It may have subconsciously been responsible for her present hairstyle. She was simply all about combining something sleek and simple alongside something low-maintenance. Not having to worry about washing and drying her hair anymore, even when it was merely at medium length, was a mild godsend. Saved her an insane amount of time in her routine.
Haru was the opposite. She didn’t feel as though her expression of her womanhood was inadequate; she was still soft, pink, and frilly just as she’d always been. Excessive comfort was her forte. Finally, once college began, she allowed this philosophy to infiltrate all aspects of herself. She no longer had to groom herself to the standards of her husband-to-be, which he did hold over her since she was unwilling to be physical with him. She had been expected to shave ‘down there’ purely as a method of control on his part, which Haru was profoundly grossed out by. She also discovered that she didn’t mind not shaving. The tedious upkeep of her armpits was something she didn’t have to be as strict with, as she was told to shave whenever hair showed up there at all as to not ‘embarrass’ her fiancé. It led to irritation, dry skin, and general discomfort that drove her mildly insane. Now, everything was at her leisure. She was allowed to breathe and take things at her own pace, which meant she was a little more comfortable in her own skin, hair occasionally included.
Haru snickered, unable to maintain her mask with conviction, but Makoto found the fact that it slipped somewhat charming. In the bedroom, Haru was achingly authentic.
“I’m glad you like to be pretty for me,” she said, her movements slowing, rapidly speeding up, and then slowing again as though she was revving an engine, “But Miss Okumura thinks you’re gorgeous no matter what, princess.”
That one really set her over the edge. Haru’s feathery, higher-pitched register purring the term of endearment was… a little much, but in the best possible way.
Makoto let out a struggling cry as Haru continued her ‘start/stop’ movements. She didn’t know how exactly they’d arrived here, but she would’ve been kidding herself if she didn’t know why. Makoto had literally always been a teacher’s pet. It was a chronic case, she was just too studious and likable not to be. As a girl who had lived the vast majority of her life utterly starved for affection and approval of all kinds, she had received the fulfillment of that need from her educators her whole life, even at the cost of her reputation.
She had old memories of one of her specific awakenings; one of their old homeroom teachers, Miss Kawakami, had been a regular fixture of her fantasies. She was young, she spoke to them like they were human beings and not walking inconveniences, and she supported their tenure as Thieves behind the scenes after Akira managed to help her with some of her own problems. She felt like she had the approachability of a peer, but still warranted the respect of an instructor, so her validation and praise truly meant something to her. Words of encouragement meant a little more to her. When she saw her in the hall, she’d find herself eyeing the woman’s deceptively nice figure that she, like Haru, hid underneath swathes of fluffy, amorphous clothing that just made them all the more inviting. She couldn’t help but fantasize once or twice about showing up after school to find their teacher physically and emotionally exhausted, in need of some sort of… rejuvenation that Makoto could provide. The image of her, kneeling in front of her in her chair, lifting up her skirt, and pleasing her as a method of expressing gratitude and getting to hear praise from someone whose opinion really meant something to her. She had little idea how or what she would’ve done exactly, given her lack of experience; thus, the specifics of her fantasies were hard to nail down, but she figured she could make up for it with enthusiasm.
Now, she could confirm that she would’ve been putty in her hands, and probably wouldn’t have been able to hold her composure, given the state of her as Haru kept up their act.
Makoto let out a nervous laugh as she had no clue how to further accentuate the effectiveness of Haru’s own performance. Her breathing was heavy and irregular, her elegance was gone; this was just deeply, sinfully indulgent in ways she thought herself at least a little bit above. She didn’t even care that she was still only half-naked, and that Haru wasn’t too much further along. Nudity itself simply didn’t matter as much as contact did. As long as they were touching each other, it was good. It was comfortable. It was warm.
“Please,” Makoto seethed, “Please, more. Touch me more.”
Haru really did feel like she was a razor’s width from passing out.
She finally fulfilled her unspoken promise, sinking her staid middle finger between Makoto’s outer lips, caressing her from within as she inserted her finger carefully so she didn't hurt her or shock her too much to start out with.
Haru giggled.
“You’re tight,” she said, quieter than she’d said anything so far, almost as though it was a purely self-directed exclamation.
Makoto didn’t really know if this was a good or a bad thing; after all, she was her only frame of reference. She’d never needed more than one, occasionally two fingers to get the job done, but she didn’t know if that was standard practice or not. Then again, she did have rather thin, small, dainty hands. It was relative, not that she was thinking about anything else other than how Haru managed to so thoroughly explore her.
Makoto moaned, a noise that seemed never-ending, oscillating in pitch and volume with basically every movement Haru made. She had a rough idea of what to do, but she was mostly just flatly curious, seeing how hooking her finger slightly as she thrust, pushing in all the way very slowly, brushing her thumb against the tip of Makoto’s clit with every other rapid insertion. Sometimes she just lingered, massaging her inner walls because of how Makoto’s spine would bend her either forward or backward, seemingly at random, writhing in her arms as she struggled to understand how a feeling of this magnitude came from something that felt so small. She felt like she was balancing on an inch-tall spinning top, waiting to fall and crash and hurt herself, but Haru wouldn’t let her. She kept her safe. She allowed her to enjoy teetering on the very edge.
“That’s… so good,” she huskily breathed, “You’re… so good. You f-fuck me so good.”
Haru Okumura had made her swear. Professional, pragmatic, intelligent, poised Makoto had fully unraveled under her control.
“Do I, now?” Haru fired back, unable to contain her amusement, “You sure you don’t want me to stop? I don’t want to overwhelm you, Mako-chan.”
Makoto genuinely couldn’t tell if she was breaking kayfabe there or not. She spoke with confident theatricality but also had legitimate concern buried in there. She wasn’t sure if this was window-dressing or she was sincerely being asked if she was okay- considering how noisy she was being, neither was implausible.
Not that it mattered.
Makoto gripped Haru’s shoulder even tighter, fingernails digging into the skin enough to make the heiress gasp.
“Don’t stop,” Makoto begged, eyes pleading as much as her voice, “Please, p-please, please don’t. I n-need you. I need this. Please don’t leave me, Miss Okumura.”
That last part really did just… slip out.
Haru didn’t stop, but her approach couldn’t help but adjust itself after that little display. The request had the tone of a legitimate, dire helplessness. Even if Haru had somehow driven her to the point where that was the only way she could respond, it was so troubling she couldn’t ignore it. She’d spoken as though the first thing on her mind was the possibility that Haru might literally just stop at that very moment and walk out of the room.
Makoto felt a searing hot pain radiate up her spine, needles in her nerves as a warm, embarrassed flush hit her at full force. Not the silly, easily dismissed embarrassment from seeing each other without clothes on from earlier. The kind of embarrassment that made you want to run away, hide, and cover her face.
The trouble was, what Haru was doing to her felt too good to abandon. She sat there, holding on desperately as Haru slowed herself substantially, but didn’t stop. It allowed Makoto to catch her breath, inhaling as her fingers eased back, inhaling sharply when they slowly pushed back in deeper. She slowed her breathing to match it, and thankfully, Haru picked up on it, somehow working to stabilize her.
“S-Sorry,” Makoto said as they continued, “I-I don’t know what came over me.”
Haru shook her head, lightly shushing Makoto.
“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Haru reassured her, “I wouldn’t leave you, Makoto. I won’t. Your teacher’s got you.”
The eye contact was unbearable. Makoto felt her eyes welling up with tears, not out of sadness, but just because she’d become a font of confused emotions. Everything seemed to just swell inside her, and it was the best way to get rid of the excess feeling. Haru’s own gaze was quite aware, dressing down Makoto and attempting to detect if something was legitimately wrong. Maybe it was, but it didn’t matter, because she didn’t want Haru to stop.
“Thank you,” Makoto breathed before she angled her chin up and pressed her lips to Haru’s.
The kiss was long and deep. Everything about the world and its movements had slowed over the course of the last few minutes, and the slow motion felt like euphoria with Haru still inside her. She had managed to keep her forceful but carefully-applied thrusts parallel with Makoto’s breathing, which relaxed her as she was wound and unwound over and over again. They had fully arrived at the same page, every point of interaction they shared somehow finding a way to overlap with the other to achieve some kind of grand harmony of considered motions.
Haru couldn’t help but find the almost puppy-dog look of weariness on her partner’s face unbearably sweet. Makoto had always hidden behind her programming, no matter how much of it she was able to shed over the years, but she couldn’t help but think that her agreeing to do this was just as much out of desperation as it was friendship. Makoto shared a living space with Sae, and had for some time, but she was a chronic workaholic. Now with university, even though they’d grown closer, Makoto was even more alone on a regular basis. She wasn’t as confident as Ann or Futaba over the phone or through texting because that all came sort of late to her. She had even more assignments and a large workload to keep her occupied. The more she considered it, the more she wondered if Makoto had been waiting for her to ask her to do this. Really, waiting for anyone. Just someone she trusted.
If that had been the case, Makoto hadn’t made herself aware of it just yet. She never considered one of her friends being someone she could go to for physical intimacy, but this sort of ‘cool confident’ act she had when Haru initiated had felt distinctly out-of-character for her. Maybe it was her way of trying to embrace the opportunity, too afraid to show her real colors but too achingly alone to deny the request. Maybe this was about more than exploration after all. Maybe it was all decorum for something else. Something deeper.
As she continued, Haru noticed she was driving Makoto closer and closer to an edge she knew she wouldn’t be backing down from. She couldn’t, even if a weird, sadistic part of her felt that denial of her fulfilment could facilitate pleasure that went even further beyond this, it just wasn’t the time for that. Makoto needed to be soothed. Comforted.
“Are you close, Mako-chan?” Haru whispered.
Makoto just nodded, eyes lidded, hips struggling to remain planted in Haru’s lap.
“Shhh,” Haru eased, continuing just a little bit faster, but not so much that it overstimulated her, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here. I want you to feel good.”
The words were almost as good as the feeling. The embarrassment was fading, her body’s nerves had cooled, and the warm inferno of potential embarrassment subsided as the tide of Haru returned to wash it all away. It was okay. She did have her. She was right there. She did want her to feel good.
Makoto’s eyes shot open all the way when Haru finally applied more force; she knew any longer, and she’d likely exhaust her beyond all reasonable measure. Her body began to tighten in her lap, coiling into her as Makoto buried her face in the nape of her neck.
“Mako-chan… can I be honest with you?” Haru asked her.
Makoto nodded. Words were a little beyond her right now. Haru giggled again, but she didn’t abandon her casual, comfort-imbued tenor.
“I want to give you what you want,” Haru said, “But there’s something I want too. Your teacher wants to show you how wonderful you are.”
Makoto was ninety different emotions at once. She wanted her to pick up speed, to finally press her thumb to her clit and let her ride out the orgasm that was just within reach. Yet, she needed to know what she meant. She knew Haru wouldn’t stop this for no reason. She wanted something more. To take it further.
She felt the muscles in her abdomen tighten as she braced to allow Haru to indulge herself.
“W-What do you want, Miss Okumura?” she whinged.
Her grip tightened on Haru’s shoulder again. She thought she saw her wince, but whatever wrinkle was within the facial expression had been discarded too quickly to make a solid judgment.
Haru leaned forward, licking up the side of Makoto’s face near the curve of her jawline, right until she could nip at her earlobe, and place her lips just nanometers away, her breath tickling the tiny, invisible hairs on Makoto’s skin.
Time stopped when she whispered. Every syllable delicate, but sharp.
“I want to taste you so badly,” Haru implored, “I want to lick you clean. I want you to feel my tongue inside you.”
Makoto couldn’t think. For a moment, she could barely breathe. Haru pulled back, but it took her a few seconds to even notice the image of Haru’s head bobbing up and down between her legs, eyes wide and enthusiastic as she could just see the upward curve of her smile as she went down on her.
She knew with certainty that she couldn’t wait. If Haru withdrew and just let her struggle there, she would have no choice but to immediately relieve herself. It’s just what her brain was asking-no, commanding her body to do. That said, she wanted to know what it felt like. She wanted to feel another girl’s tongue lick her pussy, she wanted Haru to look at her like she was an oasis while she did it, too. Everything that could be gained and loved about the words she found so intoxicating could be communicated with the other girl’s eyes; that much she knew was certain.
But that was too far away. She had to improvise.
“M-Miss Okumura… I want you to feel good, too,” Makoto pitifully insisted, “B-But I n-need you. I’m so w-wet. Taste your fingers a-and p-please finish me off… fuck, this was not what I thought I was going to be saying twenty minutes ago.”
They both let out an awkward, mildly exasperated chuckle.
All things considered, she thought it was an acceptable compromise. Haru didn’t even need to think about it; in fact, she seemed rather content with the offer as though it hadn’t even crossed her mind. She really was about to lobby to eat her out then and there, which, for whatever reason, made Makoto even more desperate for relief. She just needed to finish first so that they could get to that later… among other things.
“Of course, Mako-chan,” Haru said, allowing her fingers to tensionlessly slip out of Makoto, her eyes immediately rolling back in her head as she dealt with the sudden emptiness, “And neither did I…”
Haru took her hand from out of Makoto’s pants, illuminating them both to exactly just how wet she’d become. As deeply attractive as both women found this to be, it could hardly be argued that it wasn’t excessive. Haru had effectively wrung her out over the course of the last five or so minutes.
She looked at her hand, three primary fingers all drenched in something translucent and mildly… soapy-looking? There was a little bit of a white film around it as well that she was unfamiliar with, but Haru recognized from the times when she dared to push her masturbation habits to a particularly far threshold.
Haru stuck all three fingers in her mouth, lightly slurping and then delicately licking what remained off with the tip of her tongue, which she clearly presented with a bit more panache for an eager-eyed Makoto. She closed her eyes, absorbing her taste, exhaling with relief as though it were a drug she’d been in withdrawal from.
“Good enough for now, I think,” she said, turning back to Makoto and getting right back to business.
Haru’s re-insertion made Makoto feel like she was insane. At least on the edge of potentially exploding. Her frayed nerves deep within her felt nearly sore from the overwhelming stimuli, but the craving for her was just too strong to ignore.
She remained focused on her goal, determined to make the delay worthwhile. It didn’t take long to work Makoto back up to precisely where she was before, even if the both of them had arrived there with a little less elegance than before. They were both beginning to tire, but the desperation thrust them forward.
“Does that feel good, Makoto?” Haru asked her, real concern behind those beautiful chestnut-brown eyes.
A reversal. Building up to calling her by her full name. It felt deliberate.
“Yes,” she answered hastily, “Thank you, Haru. Fuck, thank you. It feels so good. I’m… I’m so close.”
Haru leaned forward, smirk on her face and eyes sparkling. Their noses were less than an inch apart.
“Ah, ah, ah, what was that? What do you call your teacher?” Haru asked, leading her on.
Makoto felt her entire body tense up. Something was about to happen. She had never felt like this, and certainly not to this degree of intensity. In fact, the only feeling of comparable magnitude was the rush she got when she first activated her Persona.
“Miss Okumura,” Makoto growled.
And with that, it was a done deal. Haru positioned her thumb to push her into her clit just enough with a series of upward thrusts that made Makoto practically seize up. She had been noisy, so Haru expected that to continue, but to her shock, Makoto was unable. Her mouth opened, her eyes widened, and she croaked out something damn near inaudible as her legs shook and her torso rattled. She didn’t even know if she was breathing while it happened, and didn’t find out until a full minute later, once the blinding white light that seared her vision fully faded and the fuzzy little dots retreated, she found herself practically splayed out awkwardly atop Haru, head now also pressing into the headboard, the only sensation getting through to her being the comfy plush of Haru’s bust pressing into her back.
Makoto just sort of lay there for a moment, totally unaware of what to do, and a little terrified she may have made a complete fool of herself because she was maybe a little too horny. Among… other things…
Tragically, it was the ‘other things’ that won out. Makoto slowly seemed to regain her form as she folded into how a normal person might look, trying to lie down on a bed, shifting her weight off of a heavily breathing Haru, who needed a bit of a break because her arm was insanely tired. They were unsure for how long exactly they’d been doing this, but it was deeply impressive that Haru didn’t just switch hands. She was much too focused.
She wanted to allow Makoto some space as she got comfortable, and naturally, wanted to check with her to see if she was okay after something that… big. She eyed the girl, immediately slightly concerned when Makoto rolled onto her side, taking up the fetal position as she turned away from her.
Haru didn’t want to act too quickly. Maybe this was like before, maybe she wasn’t sad, maybe it was just excess.
But the room’s atmosphere had shifted. Something was different. Wrong, even.
Haru leaned forward, placing her hand on Makoto’s shoulder. She flinched, but ultimately tilted her torso into Haru’s touch, welcoming it.
“Hey, Makoto?” Haru said, very much forcing herself into her normal voice to try to offset things.
Makoto sniffled. She didn’t seem to be shaking, and it didn’t sound like she was crying, but something was amiss. Haru had read about and even seen a few instances of women crying after orgasming, particularly with a partner, but this didn’t really feel like it had the air of faded, post-coital joy that the feeling usually had. She’d recalled watching a video once upon a time, rented in that very room, seeing a woman cum so hard she cried, but she smiled and laughed so much while doing it that Haru felt envious. It was mildly unflattering, like a lot of porn wasn’t, which made her actually want to experience it. She wanted to find someone she was comfortable enough around to potentially embarrass herself in front of her.
Maybe Makoto just wasn’t that person.
She crawled over, still keeping enough distance to respect her space.
“What are you feeling right now, Makoto? Are you alright?” she asked, slowly stroking up and down her arm like they’d been doing earlier.
It did feel very good. It took Makoto a moment to answer. She was both reluctant and simply wanted to enjoy the touch.
“Embarrassed,” she mumbled plainly, “Just… pathetic. Don’t know why.”
It was strange, hearing Makoto, the most put-together person Haru knew, speak in broken, incomplete thoughts.
“Is there anything I can do, o-or get for you?” Haru sweetly implored.
Makoto turned herself back to face Haru. There was a moment where both of them had to take a pause, as Haru had immediately caught the sight of Makoto’s mildly sweaty lower abdomen that was visible because her shirt was bunched up right underneath her boobs, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what distracted Makoto for an extra few seconds.
She wiped the barely-formed tears out of the corner of her eyes, looking back at her.
“No, I’m sorry, Haru,” she said with a sigh, “I’m just… I feel pathetic. A-And strange.”
Haru relented, ceasing her movements along Makoto’s shoulder. The words hit her harder than either would’ve figured they would.
“Oh, Mako-chan-”
Haru’s lament was cut off immediately.
“No, no, no! Haru, I’m sorry,” Makoto interrupted, a little more urgency in her still-lowered voice, “Not because of you. You did nothing wrong, I swear. It’s me. It’s me, I feel I… I enjoyed it. A lot. I just didn’t… realize… I felt so needy. I didn’t know I wanted any of that.”
Haru tilted her head, trying to feel out the situation as best she could, trying to fight away the absolutely torturous need currently buried inside her that she was actively smothering.
“But you don’t… regret it? We didn’t move too fast?” Haru asked.
She was worried they had once things got more… adventurous. That said, she enjoyed it. She had acted on instinct. The porn she watched was usually a curiosity. Always vanilla. Purely to make the process as quick as possible. If she felt indulgent, she’d wait for a bath, light some candles, get a good trashy romance novel- but nothing on their magnitude. She hadn’t learned to do much of any of that from anywhere; it just sorta felt good to do, so she did it.
Makoto shook her head.
“I don’t think so,” she said, sitting up, still curled into a ball, hands wrapping around her ankles as she tucked her knees beneath her chin, “Or… maybe? Not that it was a mistake, or maybe… ugh. I’m sorry I’m like this, Haru. I thought I’d be okay to do it. It’s just hard to know… to know that you o-or… or anyone could see me like that.”
Haru held her shoulder, stopping her movements and eschewing it for more direct, intimate contact.
“Is that what this is about?” Haru asked her, “You feel… weak? When you’re like this?”
Makoto really did have to think about it. She’d never really bothered to unpack anything she was interested in; she figured it had taken her so long for her to get there in the first place that it hardly mattered. Her other fear was being dreadfully boring because she didn’t exactly have a lot of experience, so at least that particular worry was pretty much off the table.
“Maybe not ‘weak’ exactly, but not far away, yeah,” Makoto explained, “I guess I just feel… stupid. Playing into some weird fantasy. I felt foolish.”
Haru gently smiled at her.
“I thought it was fun. You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t enjoy. In fact, I… got something out of it. Maybe even ‘a lot’ you might say…”
Haru felt the embarrassment creep back onto her. She just couldn’t help it. Being the one with a little more power was an alluring prospect to her. She didn’t get to feel like that very often, but she also didn’t want to be the kind of dominant that actually hurt or scared their partner. She wanted to be comforting, mature, and reassuring. That kind of thing was fairly natural to want during sex, wasn’t it?
Maybe it was less the what of it all and more to do with how effective it was.
“You know… I get the impression that you’ve been waiting for someone to make this offer, haven’t you?” Haru asked.
Makoto hadn’t expected such a question.
“W-Well, that’s… I don’t know about that,” she said, doubtful of herself immediately, “I suppose… I thought about hypotheticals. You know, before. Maybe Ann would’ve offered, maybe even Futaba, but it’s not like I was actually holding out hope or anything.”
Haru sighed, gazing at the other girl pitifully.
“Makoto… I think you have trouble telling people what you want. Or, at least, that you have trouble telling people that you want anything at all. It’s why you never took the initiative, isn’t it? You wanted to be approached first so you didn’t have to be the one to initiate, am I mistaken?”
Makoto really couldn’t deny it. She would’ve been lying both to herself and to Haru, and she didn’t want to be. She wanted to stop running from this kind of thing. That’s why it all made sense; she had run from it so it would never become an issue in the first place.
But now, Haru’s invitation just dropped in her lap. An invitation that, sure, she'd entertained the notion in the past. Maybe thought about it once or twice. A little more than once or twice, perhaps, when they started texting more regularly.
Makoto deflated a bit, but nodded in agreement.
“I think so,” she admitted, “I just… really don’t want to mess things up, you know? Especially with someone I care about. And now I just feel so… unseemly. I mean, come on, a teacher kink? What the hell am I, a teenage boy?”
Haru could tell her tone was lightening up, but her words were no less truthful. They could at least both smile about it now.
“I’m not judgmental, Makoto, and I also think that’s far from worth being ashamed over. In fact, if we were placing bets-”
Makoto groaned.
“It really is that obvious, isn’t it?” she let out, “Teacher’s pet is repressed and loves being told ‘good job’? I just feel like-”
Haru placed her hand over Makoto’s mouth, causing the girl to raise her eyebrows as her mouth went on autopilot for a few seconds, beginning to ramble as it faded away when she realized her friend’s palm was nearly pressed into her face.
“Makoto,” she said very directly, “If I may interject… you are a perfectionist, is that not accurate?”
Makoto didn’t need to think about that one either. Of course she was. It was practically her identity.
“Yeah,” she shrugged.
“You are such a thoroughly intelligent, confident person who is capable of so much. I’ve seen it,” Haru reassured her, “You are so used to your own competency that you are terrified of coming up short in any respect. It’s your first time, you’re still figuring yourself out, and you’ve realized your unimpeachable image is being offset because you like to feel taken care of in bed. Do I have this right?”
Her body felt a little tingly after hearing that.
“Well, y-yeah?” Makoto couldn’t even hypothetically shut her down or repeal the notion; she’d been read like a fucking book, “Crazy, when someone starts telling you they know more about you than you do.”
Haru tilted her head again, eyebrow arched.
“Am I wrong?”
Makoto sighed.
“You are… not wrong,” Makoto said, “I just can’t change my instincts. It felt embarrassing once… well, once my head became clearer.”
Haru chuckled at her.
“Makoto, sex is two naked people flopping around. I think you may be clinging to your dignity too tightly. There’s no audience here. Just you and me,” she explained, the kindness in her voice clashing with her blunt words, “If you expect to be intimate with someone, and then feel like you were an untouchable goddess the whole time? You’re setting yourself up to be disappointed.”
Makoto finally grinned. She knew Haru was capable of dressing people down like this, just never her specifically. It was probably more to do with them being alone, but she figured it would be more embarrassing. This just felt like… clarification.
“I guess so… I just… I don’t know,” she said, still fidgeting in place, “I think I’ve been in my own head a lot these last few years. I’ve been kinda… I missed you guys, you know? Wanting you so badly just makes me realize how much I need you guys in my life.”
Haru gasped. Makoto immediately felt panicked.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say something insensitive,” she rushed out.
Haru stopped, looked a little confused for a moment, and just shook her head until her smile returned.
“You didn’t,” Haru insisted, “You said one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard. That’s so… gosh, Makoto, I’ve missed you too. I never feel like we get enough time together. None of us, really. All this freedom, and we still get held back by academia. How funny for a bunch of criminals.”
Makoto felt all warm and mushy inside at that. Coffee dates here and there mixed in with constant texting- it was more than enough to maintain a friendship, but it still felt like the bare minimum. Besides, they may not have wanted to be in a relationship, but they were certainly more than friends by now. There wasn’t really a word for it, but it was powerful.
She leaned forward as Haru gently hugged her. She felt the warmth of her chest press into her, making her heart flutter.
When she drew back, Makoto sat up a little more properly.
“You’re right,” Makoto said with a nod, “I just missed you. And… have some very interesting inclinations in bed that we don’t need to psychologically unpack right now. Or ever.”
She couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed it. How fulfilling it felt. The perfect balance of ‘feels so wrong’ and ‘feels so right’ to feel like she was doing something taboo, but not so much that she felt weird about it. At least, not anymore.
Haru allowed herself to smile wider.
“I’m glad you think so,” she said airily, “So, with that said, if you’d like to pause for the evening and-”
Haru was cut short by Makoto’s hand gripping her wrist. She’d moved so fast that the sensation came first. She had leaned forward, now just a few inches from her all over again.
“Um,” she said, swallowing before she continued, “I’m sorry I derailed us… again. But, if you’d like to keep going… I really would too, I think?”
Haru looked genuinely surprised. She really was ready to just call it quits and have a more low-key evening with Makoto, but…
Her offer was tempting. It was enthusiastic. It would save her an inevitable trip to her bathtub and around an hour.
She immediately got an idea. When her mind shifted gears again, she immediately knew where her attention was while they were still otherwise engaged. It was… unorthodox, which made her a little reluctant, but if Makoto enjoyed this sort of thing, this was a good, easy way to get back into the swing of things.
“Can I ask an awkward question?” Haru posited.
“Go for it,” she answered promptly.
“Are you… well, are you still a bit of a mess down there?” Haru asked plainly, pointing towards her own crotch for the sake of visual aid.
Makoto, perhaps to avoid the potential initial awkwardness, elected to answer visually instead of verbally. She reached down with both hands, gripped the sides of her underwear with both hands, leaned forward, and slid the pair off of her, tossing the garment over to where her other clothes presently resided.
She looked down even though she didn’t need to. She was able to ignore it before, as the intensity of her emotional swing was a bit blinding, but without it, she could feel that she was unreasonably drenched in her own arousal.
“I dunno, you tell me,” Makoto chuckled as she examined herself.
She looked up, only to find Haru looking between her legs, some powerful hunger lingering behind those inviting eyes of hers.
“Certainly looks the case,” she said a bit vacantly, right before she cleared her throat.
Haru began to crawl forward, hands in front of her as she placed herself to Makoto’s immediate right.
“It’s not… wise to leave a mess behind,” Haru said, her ‘normal’ voice slipping a bit.
Makoto just blinked. Her bottom half suddenly felt colder, the air-conditioned room feeling like it sapped her body heat from her.
“I… agree… Miss Okumura,” Makoto said, allowing herself to place herself back into their continuing encounter.
“I’m glad,” Haru said from behind hazy, distracted eyes, “So… would you like me to clean you up? I’m the one who made this mess, after all. May I?”
And suddenly, any potential, lingering hesitancy or embarrassment not only didn’t matter, but Makoto actively rejected it. No. Absolutely not. She was going to let herself enjoy this. Holy shit, was she going to.
Haru positioned herself accordingly, crawling down as Makoto opened her legs, folding them, and slightly raising herself up so that Haru was allowed the best angle possible. She hooked herself under Makoto’s left leg and placed herself between them, looking at her efforts from a few minutes ago.
Still smeared in the honey of their first dalliance, Haru was discovering a slightly unflattering proclivity she had. She had been severely downplaying her desire to give Makoto oral, but now that she was flat out confronted by the sight of it, she didn’t know how much self-control she had.
She leaned down, putting herself directly above her destination as she looked at Makoto’s shockingly excellent shaving efforts. She must’ve been doing it a while, manicuring herself with the effortless grace she did most other things with, no doubt.
Doing too much too fast was probably a bad idea, so despite the fact that Haru knew for a fact that getting heated again like this had wrecked her ‘down there’ just as much as Makoto, and she was nearly so horny that every subtle movement she made became a plea when her underwear so much as lightly stretched over her skin. She had to ignore it all though; she had things to do.
Makoto watched as Haru leaned into her, unmistakably inhaling deeply as her nose got close enough, an action that made her hairs on the back of her neck stand up once again after temporarily returning to normal while she was distracted. Haru looked like her pupils had dilated; whatever scent she detected made her move as though she had no control over herself. She tilted her head to the side and began to drag her tongue across Makoto’s thighs. She lapped up every part of her that was coated in the something that practically spilled from her. Even after Haru had used her hand to sample it, there was still so much left. Makoto couldn’t help but recall a time when she’d received a sponge bath in a spa she and Sae had gone to some years ago, and the sensation was oddly similar to that. Like everything about Haru, her tongue was soft; just the light application gave the brunette goosebumps in completely new places. It was deeply arousing, but it didn’t actually stimulate her, so it was effectively a kind of mildly torturous foreplay.
She was thorough. One thigh, then the other, her tongue trying to coat every square inch of her thighs' interior, regardless if a given spot was even dry or not. She moved up, licking on either side of her cunt as she didn’t neglect things like the lips or the hood above her clit, savoring the familiar taste but also not being too generous as she explored more sensitive areas. As much as this was about buildup, neither of them needed to go overboard any more than they already had tonight.
At least, that was what Haru thought, until she delivered a playful lick up Makoto’s pelvic bone, her eyes catching one of the many other places Haru’s eyes could theoretically linger on.
Of all the singular parts of the girl she could appreciate and find the eroticism in, what compelled her most was her ab muscles. She figured some years after they’d quit being Thieves, they’d fade a little, but Makoto had been indulging in at least some form of upkeep, because damn.
Men who didn’t enjoy muscular women were cowards, but then again, Haru couldn’t help but be thankful for them. More for her, then.
Makoto’s abs were firm, chiseled, and worked with her sturdy figure. While Makoto had been adept at ignoring the temptation to look at her allies in moments of undress, Haru did not possess that self-control. She looked at how built Makoto was any single chance she got, and she would’ve been dishonest if she said she hadn’t daydreamed about doing precisely what she was about to do.
She moved forward, planting one hand beside the tip of Makoto’s hip, and she began to plant kisses on her stomach.
Makoto felt the butterflies beneath Haru’s chosen points of attack. It was a different kind of feeling, one she welcomed, but she couldn’t ignore that Haru was really good at this. She didn’t even notice that she’d become wet again; Haru had simply mistaken it for the results of her own actions. But, no, this was turning into an official second round rather fast. Makoto couldn’t help but feel like Haru had taken her comment about ‘spoiling’ her earlier as some sort of personal challenge.
As much as she wanted to think about what she could do for Haru, both as thanks and because she just really wanted to, she felt Haru’s tongue again.
Tracing the lines of her abs was a little bit too fun. Makoto hissed on contact, allowing Haru a brief chuckle, as she dragged it around and around, covering the perimeter of each individual muscle with ease before dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s with a kiss to the center of wherever she’d just finished. She was in heaven, and Makoto merely thought this was an act of curiosity, which it was, but to Haru, it could hardly just be called that.
When she concluded, her eyes returned to Makoto’s.
“I still haven’t quite done everything yet, have I?” she asked with a cheeky grin.
Makoto chuckled, finally arriving at a place where she was able to play into this and be aware of how ridiculous she felt.
“No M-Miss Okumura,” Makoto let out, her nervousness only half-genuine.
Haru picked up on the affect.
“Ask nicely, Mako-chan,” she said, moving directly above Makoto’s core.
“Please, Miss Okumura,” Makoto requested, the words leaving the tip of her tongue and immediately making her more ready for Haru’s return, “Please.”
Haru couldn’t even stop to try and savor the scent again; she just went for it to see if her hunger could die any quicker. It was becoming a need. She both had to eat Makoto out and needed desperately to find some relief afterward. She nearly began to touch herself with one hand as she performed, but she couldn’t; that would be giving up far, far too soon.
The first swipe of her tongue felt like the lash from a flaming whip. Makoto had involuntarily propped herself up an inch off the mattress on nothing but her elbows upon feeling it. It was so different from being fingered earlier. More deliberate, faster, more thorough. Haru had grown up quite the foodie, which meant her tongue had both a refined palate and was used to various textures and consistencies. Alongside her affinity for sweets, it uniquely trained someone like her to be about as great at going down on girls as any inexperienced woman could be.
Long, slow drags. Careful, quick flicks. Haru just needed more. She hummed as she continued her work, Makoto’s hands ruffling through her hair because her fingers literally didn’t know what else to do. It was like being fingered at forty times speed without actually achieving orgasm any quicker, and she had even less control of her body. It wasn’t exactly a lot of space to cover, but Haru did discover quickly that creativity in her performance was enjoyable to both parties. She’d read once, to practice your technique, you should draw names in cursive while eating someone out, supposedly it would make your tongue more dexterous and your movements much more thorough.
H
“Oh, fffffuck, Miss… Okumura… oh,” Makoto softly wailed.
A
“D-Don’t stop. Please,” she continued, “Do not. Fucking. Stop.”
R
“Fuck!” she nearly squealed, “I need you. I need you not to stop. Please keep going. I’ll do a-anything for you. I’m close again, Miss Okumura, FUCK me, oh shit.”
U
And with that, it was curtains for Makoto’s second time.
She literally could not feel parts of her own body. Not even parts Haru had serviced, her limbs just felt like barely-movable Jell-O. The feeling had been sapped away because there had been an overload, so the orgasm came in waves, allowing her to truly bask in and ride it out for a minute. Haru cleaned her all the while, thrilled and delighted to have done well enough to earn herself another mess. As lurid and shameful of a thought as it was, she really wished she had started doing this years ago. Hell, if she started in high school, imagine how great she’d be at it now? For whatever reason, she actually had a deep desire to improve, wanting to know just how far she could push someone. They all knew there were plenty of girls who would’ve at least given it a shot.
She waited until Haru’s face popped up within the limits of her vision, bringing herself closer and closer until she could deliver a nice, deep kiss once again. Makoto could taste herself on Haru’s tongue, a deeply strange experience that nonetheless did something for her.
But it was not about her right now. At least, she didn’t want it to be.
“Miss Okumura,” she said, letting the syllables leave her with confidence for the first time, “You… I had a nice time. You made me feel incredible.”
She wanted to sound sincere. She hoped a little bit of the truth wasn’t lost on Haru, theatricality of their little roleplay be damned.
Haru lingered above her, wiping a trail of sweat from the side of her face that she was too overwhelmed to fully notice.
“Anything for my favorite student,” she said, “But… uh… Mako-chan…”
Makoto cut her short with a quick peck on the lips.
“It’s alright, ma’am,” she said with only mild hesitation, “You’ve done so much for me. I don’t know if I’m any good, but I’ll try my best. I want to show my gratitude.”
Haru smiled, but it was apparent that it was slightly pained. God, she was probably so horny she couldn’t be exhausted. Not yet, anyway.
“You’re such a sweet girl,” Haru said, stroking her hair, “Will you do something for me? Something… specific?”
Makoto nodded rapidly. Haru felt utterly demolished by her apparent willingness.
Haru opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She wasn’t sure how to ask this. In fact, she wasn’t sure how she even knew-
Wait, that was a lie.
Earlier, there had been a brief, nearly indistinguishable moment between the two, what felt like ages ago, when Makoto had removed Haru’s top and… well, neither of them could be blamed for discarding any non-imperative thoughts at that moment. But, just before she’d done it, she remembered thinking about… something. How a specific sensation might feel.
After all, what else was experimenting for?
“Put your hand around my neck, sweetheart,” Haru said, fearing the worst, “Press gently. Whatever you do to me… I want you to try choking me a little while we do it. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s fine, don’t worry. But, if you can, I think-”
Makoto smashed their lips together and slipped her tongue into her mouth, gently pressing her thumb into one side of Haru’s throat, and the rest of her hand pressing into the other. She squeezed just enough for Haru to feel it while they made contact, air escaping into their kiss before she groaned with delight. The immediate head rush just catapulted her forward.
When she moved away, and their eyes locked, something inside Haru had seemingly unlocked.
She looked about as desperate as she felt, which was to say, very.
Makoto was about to move herself down, her hand briefly detaching from the tender flesh of her neck, but she was alarmed to find Haru’s hand grabbing it and easing it back into place.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Haru’s eyes already said everything she needed to know. She pressed Makoto’s fingers in to mimic her previous grip, and she gave her a subtle nod. There was a brief moment of staring where Makoto waited for some kind of elaboration or objection, but one didn’t come. Once Haru bit her lip, she knew what she wanted.
She relaxed her grip to use her other hand for a moment as she hooked it behind her, struggling to undo the clasp on her bra. Makoto felt mildly ridiculous for even having any kind of clothes on. Haru was merely impressed that neither of them had done it yet. Given how she utterly craved a deeper touch, if they waited much longer, she might have attempted to remove it with her teeth.
Makoto could feel the throb of Haru’s pulse in her neck; it hastened substantially when the final article of clothing dropped onto the mattress into some unseen void. She studied her friend’s chest as though she were the student, and she would be damned if anyone wrote a better essay on the many merits of Makoto Niijima's faultless physique. She wasn’t exactly rocking the proportions of some of the other girls, but Makoto’s tits were perfect, perky handfuls that allowed her torso to balance its appeal between something soft and inviting and something rippled and smooth. The absolute best of both worlds.
This couldn’t be a one-time thing. Haru had to be able to touch them later, but she had other, more pressing priorities in front of her.
Haru wasted no time and simply used her free hand to grip one side of her bottoms, while Makoto caught on quickly and grabbed the other. She was fully naked in no time at all, and Makoto got a view of the tuft of curly hair between Haru’s thighs. She had no preference about this stuff, at least, if she did, she wasn’t sure what it was, but regardless, it was cute. Everything about her really was fluffy, curly, soft, or all of the above.
However, the curls were a great deal darker than Haru’s hair, even as it was matted a bit with sweat here and there, now a bit frazzled from the evening’s activities. At first, Makoto nearly wondered if there was a dye job on either end, but she realized that no, she was just so startlingly wet that her pubic hair was the darkest shade of brown imaginable.
She licked her lips. Later.
“Mako-chan?” Haru asked, nearly sounding uncertain.
Makoto had to violently tear her attention back to the girl’s face, but she did, still scooting down as she held her hand against Haru’s throat. When the other girl swallowed, she felt it, and it just heightened the rate of her pulse even more.
Makoto didn’t answer because she couldn’t. Every part of Haru she could look at rendered her temporarily speechless. She waited for an acknowledgement.
Haru understood. If anything, the Thieves had only gotten better at nonverbal communication as the years went on.
She timidly held her mouth open, no sound coming out for a few seconds. She had to steel herself. Makoto pushed herself out of her comfort zone, so dammit, she could do it a little too. She could be bold. She could meet Makoto’s raw drive for perfection.
“Fuck me until I can’t see,” she said, an underlying vacancy coating her words like venom, almost like she couldn’t believe she’d even said them.
Makoto absolutely couldn’t believe it, but wouldn’t dream of denying any such request. Especially after Haru has made her feel so good… so comfortable… so safe.
There it was again. That embarrassing hint of arousal that came with a form of submission.
Wait, was that really it? Submission?
No. Haru was a refuge. Haru was a warm blanket on a cold night when you had holes in your socks. Exactly what you needed at exactly the moment you needed it. Beautiful, untethered, and completely unbound from expectations or obligations. It wasn’t about submitting to her, complying with requests, or even the opposite; it was about finding where to meet her, wherever her flightiness was. It wasn’t a talent everyone possessed, but Makoto always saw her as a challenge. A preppy, sheltered rich girl was all she seemed like at first… because she was a bit. She found it hard to get on her wavelength, which she didn’t realize until that very moment was exactly the point. All those years ago, when they’d met, Haru had been a challenge that Makoto’s compulsory attitude fixated on until they just did become much better friends. She wanted to hold her and be held. Support her and be supported. She couldn’t do static. None of them could. After all, they’d been high-flying, thrill-seeking adrenaline junkies for an entire year of their lives, and what, they were just suddenly supposed to lose their taste for it?
No. It all had to go somewhere. Once Makoto considered that, there really wasn’t a reason to be embarrassed. Manifesting as being just a little extra in bed? Frankly, it was logical. They had to do something with all that energy.
Makoto didn’t nod or even really make a noise; she just steadied her grip around Haru’s neck and sank two fingers inside her, pushing in up to the knuckle on her first try, knowing she was wet enough for it.
Haru’s gasp was strained. Makoto’s eyes carefully watched Haru’s, looking for a twitch or some sign of panic that let her know she had gone too far. She knew Haru would let her know, and Haru would, but that didn’t mean she also didn’t want Makoto to choke her a little harder.
As she picked up the pace, Haru discovered that the current amount was more than adequate, as the pace of her breathing had to increase just as much as the speed at which Makoto operated. She was able to work at an unprecedented speed because Haru must’ve practically dehydrated the rest of her body, she was so desperate. With Haru’s hums, chuckles, and sing-songy vocalizations that typically accompanied pleasing her now muffled, the sound in the room that was most prominent was Makoto inserting herself into the other girl, all kinds of unflattering wet noises that neither of them cared one iota about being wrenched out of her.
“Fuck,” Haru said.
Makoto, somehow, instantly became wet again the moment Haru spoke. She had never been so turned on by the sound of someone’s voice, but something about it was utterly haunting. The way the breathy syllables left her lips, half whispered as she dwelled on the final, hard consonant of the ‘k’ with an upward creak in pitch. Suddenly, Makoto’s residual self-consciousness from earlier began to evaporate.
When Haru whined, she sounded like she was actually in pain. Unfortunately, (or, fortunately, depending on who you were asking), she also sounded very sexy when in just the right amount of pain. If it was overwhelming, it would’ve been unpleasant, and thankfully it wasn’t. Makoto still suspected that Haru knew this was the case and played it up.
And it was working.
“You make… me feel so good… Mako-chan,” she choked out, “I’m… so… warm. My… pussy… feels… so… good.”
She couldn’t find it in herself to dress up her language. It was a stream of consciousness, theatricality be damned. Makoto was working her into a total frenzy, having located Haru’s clit, strategically grazing it whenever she wanted to throw Haru off just a little bit. There was no room for anything else in her head besides the immediate truth and the simplest version thereof.
Makoto contemplated asking to stop just as they had earlier, so Makoto could pull a reversal and attempt to erotically lick her own hand and taste Haru, making a show of it, but that would’ve entailed her having to wait even longer. She was simply not cruel enough for that. Not yet, anyway.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t incredibly eager to taste her.
She ignored the temptation, Haru currently playing her a broken, limp song of expletives, various iterations of Makoto’s name, and sounds she never thought she’d hear out of the heiress. She may have actually accomplished the lofty goal of fucking her until her sight left her, from the looks of it.
Without warning, Haru’s orgasm tore through her, from her spine to directly between her legs, and she lifted up one hand to grab her breast, another to push in on Makoto’s grip around her. Her eyes were so wide her eyelids all but disappeared, two panicked orbs in their place as they rolled back into her head. Makoto felt a brief but potent spray of liquid coat her hand, splattering against the sheets beneath them
She didn’t take her fingers out of her or away from her neck, but she watched her as her body slowly allowed the tension she’d wound herself up in to relax. Her limbs now loose, unable to bend or move meaningfully, her neck letting her head bob over to one side, and her torso jittering and trembling as the shockwave continually traveled over her entire body, inside and out. As her body went slack, Makoto cradled her into just lying her down, moving the pillows from an upward position to being flat on the mattress so she could fully lie down.
Once she was there, Makoto timidly crawled down, examining the mess she’d made this time around, and treated herself as she diligently cleaned her friend while her body was still numb.
“So… were you the dominant one, or was that me?” Haru asked, still out of breath, staring at the ceiling as she and Makoto lay on their backs next to one another on the bed.
Makoto blinked for the first time in around a minute. It was like her body had to remember how to do everything besides heavily breathe.
It had been about twenty minutes since they finished. Twenty blissful, silent minutes of them enjoying the afterglow.
“I truly and honestly do not know,” Makoto said, after giving it some thought, “I think we switched it up. I also think those lines are probably blurrier with us.”
Haru finally moved her head, turning to Makoto, incentivizing her to do the same. It was the first eye contact they’d made since… well…
“How do you figure that?” Haru asked inquisitively.
Makoto shrugged a little.
“We’ve never really fit into neat little boxes,” Makoto said, “Feel like we only get more complicated as we get older, so it stands to reason we’d be at our least… ‘little box friendly’?”
They both laughed.
“You think so?” Haru asked, “I kinda think things have gotten simpler. At least, I think they have. Myself as well. I just know more about what I want, I think, and what I want is pretty simple.”
Makoto sighed. She was probably right. Makoto had a tendency to assume things were far more universal than they actually were in order to cull her brain from insisting that she was some sort of freak weirdo, which had no lessened as she got older.
“I’m glad you think so,” Makoto said, “So… how exactly did you think this went, all things considered?”
Haru looked over at her clock. It had been three hours since they first arrived at her home.
“Considering it could’ve been either eight o’clock PM or three o’clock PM on that clock over there, and I wouldn’t have even budged, I think it was a success. I mean… I had fun.”
She looked over to Makoto, finding her with a dopey smile. As if she were able to make one that was anything else at the present moment.
“Good,” Makoto said, “I’m glad this wasn’t just enjoyable to me, then.”
Haru narrowed her vision just enough to look curious.
“So, that means you did too, yeah?” she asked, “I was a little worried there for a moment.”
Makoto nodded, scooting closer to Haru so they were only a few inches apart now.
“I really did,” she assured her, “In fact, I just wanted to say thanks. You made this a lot better than I thought it would be. Sometimes it was about as awkward, granted, but I expected that.”
Haru giggled while blushing.
“Sorry about that, I guess I’m still figuring things out,” she speculated, “But… I mean, not to be too forward or anything, but now that it’s over… how do you feel?”
For a moment, Makoto wasn’t exactly sure what delineated her inquiry from the one she literally just asked, but it was the shift in the look on Haru’s face that illuminated her to the real truth of the question.
“Oh, well, I feel… good,” Makoto said, quasi-figuring it out as she went along, “I think that sort of settles it. Girls? Big fan. You? Also a big fan.”
Haru looked to the side conspicuously.
“Enough to do it again?” she asked, before quickly following it up, “Not right now! Goodness, not right now, but just in general? Honest thoughts only here, remember.”
Makoto nearly exclaimed that she’d never be anything other than honest, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. Haru was just being careful. She could hardly blame her. Especially considering this exact scenario presented a hell of a dilemma for their friends last year.
“Definitely enough to do it again. With you, I mean,” Makoto explained, only tripping over herself a little bit, “Can I say something? About that, I mean?”
Haru nodded.
“I also… feel pretty okay? About us?” Makoto said, “As in, I feel confident enough in our relationship to outright say that I’m still fairly sure my feelings here are… platonic? As… odd as that must sound.”
They both chuckled at that.
“But at the same time,” she continued, “I sorta feel like that’s diminishing this. Diminishing us. ‘Platonic’ feels like a weirder way to describe us than ‘romantic’ does, do you get what I mean?”
Haru nodded.
“I think I feel the exact same way,” she mused, “I would never just call you my friend, Makoto. Not quite enough.”
Makoto smiled, putting her arm over Haru’s bare shoulder.
“I think that’s a lovely way of putting it,” Makoto said, “So… you wanna try this? Friends with benefits? No chance of either of us secretly falling in love, slowly developing a resentment towards each other, and then getting trapped in some parallel dream world? Hopefully?”
Haru laughed even though she felt like she shouldn’t have. What happened to Futaba and Sumire was not funny… but it was so ridiculous that it felt appropriate here.
“I think I’m good,” Haru said with a measure of confidence, “Besides… I hope you don’t think me condescending when I tell you that I think it might be good for you. I think you both need and deserve a bit more affection than you get, hm? And I understand not being ready for a relationship, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have needs. Trust me, if you need some sappy, lovey-dovey sex to cheer you up… I can’t say I’d be one to refuse, these days.”
Makoto was, in complete honesty, rather touched at the offer, but particularly in how it was worded. It let her know that somehow, Haru had intuited what she truly loved about this experience. She understood her own appeal to her.
“And if you… are stressed, nervous, or even just bored? Happy to comply with the same… or if you want to be a little rougher, that too,” Makoto tacked on.
Haru nodded, clearly content with their unofficial terms.
“Thank you,” she said, “You could’ve said no back at Leblanc earlier. I really did just sort of… offer. Out of the blue. If you were worried about being the pervert, I think that may fit me better.”
Makoto snorted.
“A term so crass could never fit you,” she said, delivering a swift kiss to the forehead, “I prefer ‘curious’- it feels a bit more accurate.”
She could be content with that label. Makoto had certainly made her a good deal more curious; that was for certain.
“So then,” Haru said, “Do you wanna pick out a movie?”
Makoto exhaled, snuggling up to Haru and nuzzling herself just beneath her chin, face warmly pressed against her topless torso, earning an instant laugh.
“I think I’ll watch anything as long as I’m riiiiight here,” Makoto teased.
It may have been playful in tone, but Makoto had zero intention of moving. She internally prayed Haru was able to find the remote from where they were sitting, because if it came down to choosing a movie and naked cuddling with Haru, well, one of those options did not stand a snowball’s chance in hell.
“I never would’ve imagined you to be so into boobs,” Haru said, unable to not find the declaration funny.
“I’m into your boobs. Big difference,” Makoto clarified, “They’re big and soft, and you’re warm.”
She said with such a tranquil, blunt sincerity. Her voice had become just a bit easier on the ears now that she was truly settling in.
Haru looked down at her, beginning to stroke her hair again.
“You know if you need to call me just to talk to me… you can,” Haru offered, “I don’t mind. I also don’t mind if you just wanna cuddle with me, too. Believe me, I could use it sometimes.”
Makoto could hear the way her voice lilted. Her dad. Of course, she was sad and lonely too, sometimes.
She reached for Haru’s free hand, which she thankfully discovered already had the remote in it. Thank God, nobody had to move for any sake aside from comfort.
“I… will hold you to that,” Makoto said, meaning every word, “You really do make me feel safe, you know that?”
Haru blushed.
“I’m thankful I have such an effect on anyone,” she said, “I could never feel unsafe, with those abs to protect me? Whew.”
Makoto playfully shoved her as they both laughed.
“You can call me whenever, too,” Makoto assured her, “I know we already do, but… I could do with a bit more.”
Haru clicked the remote, the TV whining and blinking on in an instant.
“I think I could too, Mako-chan.”
Makoto lay there, not paying a lick of attention to whatever Haru had just turned on, as the immediate, radiating warmth of her body seemed to cushion her existence from head to toe, lying atop the mattress that was probably as expensive as six months' rent. At that precise moment, she couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
"I like it all that way."