The pale morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, painting the room in shades of gold and pearl. Dust motes drifted lazily in the slanted beams, suspended and unhurried, as if the world outside this bedroom had paused, waiting for permission to resume.
Haruna's eyes opened slowly, the way they always did when she hadn't set an alarm—unhurried, letting consciousness return in layers. The first thing she registered was the warmth pressed against her back, the familiar weight of an arm draped across her waist, the slow rhythm of breath stirring the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.
She smiled before she was fully awake, before she remembered where she was or what day it was. Her body remembered first. The deep, satisfied ache between her thighs. The tenderness in her hips. The raw places on her lips where Rio had bitten down, claiming, possessive, and the ghost of her name still caught in Rio's throat.
She shifted, turning carefully in the circle of Rio's arms, and the morning light caught Rio's sleeping face full-on.
Haruna's breath caught, the way it still did after four years.
Rio lay on her side, her dark lashes sweeping against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted and still soft from the night before—swollen from kissing, from biting, from the sounds she'd made into Haruna's mouth. Her wolf-cut hair was a tangled mess against the pillow, some strands plastered to her temple, and there—there—the mole beneath her right eye, small and perfect, the one Haruna had kissed a thousand times and would kiss a thousand more.
She looked younger in sleep. Softer. The armor Rio wore for the world—the calculated composure, the untouchable grace, the way she could silence a room by merely entering it—all of it was gone, stripped away by unconsciousness, leaving only the woman who had held Haruna through the worst night of her panic and promised forever.
Haruna's hand moved before she told it to, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Rio's forehead. Her fingers lingered, tracing the line of Rio's cheekbone, the curve of her jaw, the edge of her lips. She cataloged every detail the way a painter studies a canvas before the first stroke—committing it to memory, knowing she would wake to this face for the rest of her life, and still wanting to remember it exactly.
Rio murmured something in her sleep, a sound without shape, and her arm tightened around Haruna's waist, pulling her closer even in unconsciousness.
Haruna's smile widened. Her chest did something complicated—a squeeze, a bloom, a heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
She leaned in, letting her lips hover a breath away from Rio's mouth, close enough to feel the warmth radiating between them, close enough to taste Rio's exhale.
And then she kissed her.
Featherlight. Barely there. A brush of lips so soft it could have been a dream.
"Good morning, Rii," she murmured against Rio's mouth, her voice still thick with sleep.
Another kiss. A little longer this time. The same tender pressure.
"Good morning, Rii."
Rio's eyelashes fluttered. Her brow creased slightly, the way it did when she was surfacing from deep sleep, caught between dreaming and waking.
Haruna kissed her again, the corner of her mouth, the dimple that appeared when Rio smiled.
"Good morning, Rii." A whisper now. A prayer.
Rio's arms tightened, pulling Haruna flush against her, and her eyes opened slowly—those luminous amber eyes, unfocused and soft with sleep, blinking against the morning light as they found Haruna's face.
For a moment, Rio just looked at her. No words. Just a slow, spreading warmth in her gaze, the way sunlight fills a room inch by inch.
And then her lips curved into a smile so unguarded, so tender, that Haruna felt something crack open in her chest, something she'd been holding too tight for too long.
"Good morning, baby." Rio's voice was wrecked, rough with sleep, scraped raw from the night before. It was the most beautiful sound Haruna had ever heard.
Haruna felt her own smile break across her face—pure, unguarded joy. No camera watching. No industry to perform for. Just this. Just them.
She didn't say anything. She just leaned in and kissed Rio again, and this time it wasn't featherlight.
This time, there was intention behind it. Her mouth pressed fully against Rio's, soft and warm, and Rio made a small sound—a hum of satisfaction, of welcome—as her lips parted beneath Haruna's.
The kiss deepened slowly, like dawn. Haruna's hand slid into Rio's hair, threading through the tangled strands, and Rio's fingers pressed into the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.
They kissed the way they'd kissed a thousand times before, and each time felt like the first. The same discovery. The same wonder. The same quiet astonishment that this was real, that this was theirs.
Rio's mouth tasted like sleep and something underneath—a sweetness that belonged only to her, that Haruna had memorized years ago and still couldn't name. Her lips moved slowly, deliberately, savoring each moment before it passed, and when her tongue traced the seam of Haruna's lower lip, asking without demanding, Haruna opened for her with a soft, broken sound.
The world outside the bedroom—the cameras, the headlines, the father who knew, the family dinner waiting in the future, the announcement they had promised each other—all of it dissolved. There was only this. Rio's mouth. Rio's hands. Rio's body arching into hers. The wet slide of their tongues meeting, slow and deep, a conversation that needed no words.
Haruna's leg hooked over Rio's hip, pulling her closer, and she felt Rio's thigh press between her own, felt the heat already building, the answering slickness that had never needed time to catch up. She rocked against Rio's thigh, a small, involuntary movement, and Rio groaned into her mouth—a low, rough sound that vibrated through Haruna's entire body.
"Rii," Haruna breathed, breaking the kiss just enough to speak, her forehead pressed against Rio's.
"Mm?" Rio's eyes were still half-lidded, her pupils blown wide, her lips wet and red from kissing.
"I love waking up like this." Haruna's voice was barely a whisper. "I love watching you sleep. I love the way you look at me when you first open your eyes. I love—" She stopped, swallowed, felt her throat tighten. "I love that this is my life now. That I get to wake up next to you every morning. That I don't have to pretend anymore."
Rio's hand came up to cup her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze moving across Haruna's features the way Haruna's had moved across hers, cataloging, memorizing, cherishing.
"You know what I love?" Rio said, her voice still rough, still morning-warm.
Haruna shook her head, not trusting her voice.
Rio's thumb brushed across Haruna's lower lip, featherlight. "That I get to be the one who makes you smile like that. That after all this time, after everything, you still look at me like I'm the only person in the room."
"You are," Haruna said, without hesitation. "You've always been the only person in the room."
Something flickered in Rio's amber eyes—a depth, a possession, a tenderness so vast it seemed to fill the space between them. She didn't respond with words. She pulled Haruna closer and kissed her again, deeper this time, hungrier, as if she needed to prove something through her mouth that language was too clumsy to carry.
Haruna melted into the kiss, into Rio, into the heat building between their bodies. Her hand slid down Rio's side, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, the smooth warmth of her thigh. Rio's skin was soft and warm from sleep, and Haruna's fingers lingered, savoring the texture, the familiar topography of the woman she had mapped a thousand times and would never stop exploring.
Rio's hands moved too, sliding beneath Haruna's—no, Rio's—oversized t-shirt, the one Haruna had worn to bed, the one that still smelled like Rio's perfume even after a night of tangled sheets and shared sweat. Her palms were warm against Haruna's bare back, pressing her closer, deeper into the kiss, into the slow roll of their bodies finding rhythm in the morning light.
The kiss broke again, breathless, and Haruna let her head fall back, her throat exposed, her eyes closed. She felt Rio's mouth move to her jaw, her neck, the hollow beneath her ear—slow, deliberate kisses that left trails of heat in their wake.
"Good morning, bunny," Rio murmured against her skin, and the pet name sent a shiver down Haruna's spine, a reflex that four years had never dulled.
"Good morning, Rii."
They stayed like that for a long, suspended moment—Rio's mouth pressed to the curve of Haruna's throat, Haruna's fingers tangled in Rio's hair, the morning light painting them both gold. There was no urgency. No rush toward a destination. Just the slow, patient worship of each other, the way morning light filled a room, inch by unhurried inch.
Rio's lips traced a path back up Haruna's neck, across her jaw, to the corner of her mouth. She paused there, hovering, and when she spoke, her voice was a low murmur against Haruna's skin.
"I could stay here forever."
Haruna's chest ached. "Then stay."
"I will." Rio's lips brushed hers. "I am."
She kissed her again, slower this time, as if they had all the time in the world. And they did. The morning stretched before them, golden and unhurried, and the world outside—the interviews, the family dinners, the future they had promised to face together—could wait.
Right now, there was only this. Only them. Only the slow, wet slide of Rio's tongue against hers, the heat of Rio's body pressing into her, the small sounds they made into each other's mouths, sounds that needed no translation, no audience, no explanation.
Haruna's hands found the hem of her own t-shirt—Rio's t-shirt—and pulled it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to drag it over her head and toss it somewhere off the bed. She came back to Rio's mouth bare, her skin flushed, her nipples already tight from the morning air and the hunger in Rio's gaze.
Rio looked at her the way a starving person looks at a meal.
"Fuck," she breathed, and the word was almost reverent.
Haruna laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "Eloquent."
"Shut up." But Rio was smiling, that private smile she kept only for Haruna, the one that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made her look younger, softer, human. She reached out, her fingers tracing the curve of Haruna's breast, the swell of it, the way her nipple tightened beneath Rio's touch. "I just—after last night, after everything—and you're still—" She shook her head, at a loss. "I don't have words for you, bunny. You take them all away."
Haruna's heart clenched. She leaned forward, capturing Rio's mouth in a kiss that was softer than it should have been, given the heat between them. But that was them, wasn't it? Tender and hungry, reverent and desperate, all at once.
"Then don't use words," she whispered against Rio's lips. "Show me."
Rio's answer was a low, possessive sound—the sound of a woman who had been given permission, who had been trusted, who had been loved so completely that she could afford to be gentle. Her hand slid from Haruna's breast down her stomach, across her hip, finding the heat between her thighs.
Haruna was already wet—had been since she woke up, since the first kiss, since the warmth of Rio's body pressed against hers. Rio's fingers found her slick and swollen, and Haruna gasped, her hips bucking into the touch.
"Already?" Rio murmured, a tease in her voice, but her eyes were dark, hungry.
"Always," Haruna breathed. "Always, with you."
Rio's fingers traced her slowly, deliberately, gathering moisture, spreading it, teasing without entering. Her thumb circled Haruna's clit with agonizing lightness, and Haruna's breath stuttered, her hands gripping Rio's shoulders, her nails pressing crescents into the skin.
"Rii—"
"I know." Rio's voice was low, steady, anchoring her. "I've got you."
She pushed one finger inside, slow, watching Haruna's face as she did it. The way Haruna's lips parted. The way her eyes fluttered closed. The way her body opened, welcomed, surrendered.
"Fuck," Haruna whispered, and the word was a prayer.
Rio moved slowly, her finger sliding in and out, her thumb still circling, building a rhythm that was more about patience than pleasure. She watched Haruna's face like it was a sacred text, like every expression held a truth she needed to memorize. And maybe it did. Maybe after four years, she still hadn't gotten enough of the way Haruna looked when she came undone.
"Look at me," Rio said, soft, not a command but an invitation.
Haruna's eyes opened, dark and liquid, meeting Rio's amber gaze. The connection was electric, a circuit that closed between them, and Haruna felt the orgasm building at the base of her spine, spreading through her pelvis like heat through glass.
"There you are," Rio murmured. "There's my bunny."
She added a second finger, and Haruna cried out—a short, sharp sound that she swallowed into Rio's mouth as Rio kissed her again, swallowing the moan, drinking it down like something precious.
They moved together, slow and deep, the morning light shifting around them as the sun climbed higher. Rio's fingers found the spot inside Haruna that made her see stars, and she pressed there, held there, while her thumb worked her clit with relentless, patient precision.
"Come for me," Rio breathed against her lips. "I want to feel you."
And Haruna did. She came apart in Rio's arms, her body arching, her cry muffled against Rio's mouth, her cunt clenching around Rio's fingers as the orgasm rolled through her in waves, each one softer than the last, until she collapsed against Rio's chest, trembling and breathless.
Rio held her through it, her fingers still inside her, gentle and present, her other hand stroking Haruna's hair, her lips pressing soft kisses to her temple, her forehead, the corner of her mouth.
"I love you," Rio whispered, the words falling like water, like breath, like the most natural thing in the world. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Haruna laughed, a wet, broken sound, her face pressed into Rio's neck. "I love you too. I love you so much it terrifies me too."
"Good," Rio said, and there was something fierce in it, something protective and possessive and tender all at once. "Then we'll be terrified together."
They lay there, tangled in each other and the sheets, as the morning light grew bolder and the city outside began to stir. Haruna's fingers traced lazy patterns on Rio's stomach, and Rio's hand rested on the back of Haruna's head, her thumb stroking the curve of her skull.
It was quiet. Peaceful. A moment that asked for nothing but itself.
And when Haruna lifted her head, her eyes meeting Rio's, her smile was the same unguarded joy that had broken across her face when Rio had first opened her eyes.
"So," she said, her voice lighter now, teasing. "Breakfast? Or should I just live on your kisses forever?"
Rio's laugh was low and warm, a sound that vibrated through her chest and into Haruna's body. "I think we can manage both."
Her hand slid down, cupping Haruna's ass, pulling her closer, and her voice dropped to something darker, hungrier. "But first—" She rolled, pressing Haruna onto her back, her body covering hers, her lips hovering just above Haruna's. "—I'm not done with you yet."
Haruna's breath caught. Her thighs spread, pulling Rio into the cradle of her hips. "Good," she whispered, her hands sliding down Rio's back, her nails raking lightly across her skin. "Because I'm not done with you either."
And Rio kissed her, deep and slow, the morning stretching out before them like an unbroken field of light—and they had all the time in the world.
The kiss deepened, then softened, then broke—but Rio's lips didn't leave Haruna's skin. They traced a path, featherlight, from the corner of Haruna's mouth to her jaw, following the line of her throat like a cartographer mapping sacred terrain.
Haruna's head fell back against the pillow, her throat exposed, her pulse visible beneath the thin skin. Rio's mouth hovered there, feeling the beat of it against her lips, and she let out a sound—a low, reverent hum—as if the rhythm of Haruna's blood was a song she'd been trying to memorize for four years.
"Rii," Haruna breathed, the word a question without shape.
Rio didn't answer with words. Her lips pressed to the hollow at the base of Haruna's throat, where her pulse hammered strongest. She lingered there, her tongue tasting the salt of sleep and the warmth of morning, her teeth grazing just enough to make Haruna gasp.
Then she moved lower.
Her mouth traced the curve of Haruna's collarbone, slow and deliberate, charting each bone with the tip of her tongue. Haruna's hands found Rio's hair, fingers threading through the tangled wolf-cut, holding but not pulling—giving Rio the reins, trusting where she was being led.
Rio's lips traveled down the slope of Haruna's chest, pausing at the swell of her breast. She pressed a kiss there, then another, her mouth open and warm, her tongue tracing the underside before moving inward, toward the center.
Haruna's breath caught as Rio's lips closed around her nipple. The sensation was electric—a direct line from her chest to somewhere deeper, lower, the place where heat was already gathering. Rio's tongue circled slowly, deliberately, her eyes lifting to watch Haruna's face as she did it.
The eye contact broke something open in Haruna. Her hips shifted, a small, involuntary movement, seeking pressure that wasn't there yet.
Rio smiled against her skin—a private, knowing smile—and switched to the other breast, giving it the same unhurried attention. Her hand came up to cup the first, her thumb circling the nipple she'd just left, keeping it wet and peaked as her mouth worked the other.
Haruna's fingers tightened in Rio's hair. "You're—" She stopped, swallowed, tried again. "You're taking your time."
"Mm." Rio's lips vibrated against her skin, and the sensation made Haruna's entire body shiver. "We have all the time in the world, bunny. I told you."
Her mouth continued its descent, trailing kisses down the center of Haruna's stomach, pausing at each rib like she was counting them, memorizing them, blessing them with her lips. The morning light caught the trail of moisture she left behind, cooling on Haruna's skin, making her hyperaware of every place Rio had touched.
Haruna's stomach tightened beneath Rio's mouth—not from tension, but from anticipation. She could feel where Rio was heading, could feel the path her lips were tracing, and her body was already responding, already preparing, already begging.
Rio paused at her navel, her tongue circling it slowly, dipping in just enough to make Haruna gasp. Then she looked up.
Their eyes met, and the world narrowed to that single point of contact—Rio's amber gaze, dark and hungry, looking up the length of Haruna's body; Haruna's dark eyes, liquid and waiting, looking down at the woman who had mapped her so completely.
"You're so beautiful like this," Rio murmured, her voice low and rough, her lips still brushing Haruna's stomach. "Do you know that? Do you have any idea what you look like right now?"
Haruna shook her head, a small, breathless motion. She didn't trust her voice.
"Spread open for me. Waiting. Already wet." Rio's mouth pressed a kiss to Haruna's hip bone. "I could look at you forever."
And then she moved lower.
The last few inches felt like miles. Rio's lips traced the crease where Haruna's thigh met her hip, soft and teasing, deliberately avoiding the place where Haruna wanted her most. She kissed the inside of Haruna's right thigh, then her left, her mouth leaving a trail of heat that made Haruna's hips shift, seeking, reaching.
"Rii—" Haruna's voice was strained, desperate. "Please."
"Please what?" Rio's voice was honey and gravel, her lips still pressed to Haruna's inner thigh.
Haruna bit her lip, her hips lifting off the bed in an unconscious plea. "Please look at me."
Rio pulled back, just enough to see.
And she stared.
The morning light fell across Haruna's body, painting her in shades of gold and pearl. Her thighs were spread, open and vulnerable, the most intimate part of her exposed to Rio's gaze. She was glistening—slick and swollen and completely ready, her body wet with want that had been building since the first kiss.
Rio's breath caught. Her eyes traced every detail—the way Haruna's lips were parted and flushed, the way her body seemed to pulse with need, the way she was holding herself open through nothing but trust.
"Fuck," Rio whispered, and the word was a prayer, a curse, a confession all at once.
Haruna's cheeks flushed, but she didn't close her legs. She held herself open, let Rio look, let herself be seen in this raw, unguarded state. Her hand moved without thought, her fingers finding her own folds, spreading them wider, showing Rio exactly how wet she was—the slickness that glistened in the morning light, the way her body opened even further at the touch.
"Look," Haruna whispered, her voice thick with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure. "Look at what you do to me."
Rio made a sound—low, animal, wrecked. Her hand moved before she told it to, reaching out, her fingers brushing the slick that pooled at Haruna's entrance. She gathered it on her fingertips, watching it catch the light, watching the way Haruna's body responded to even that featherlight touch.
And then, without breaking eye contact, Rio brought her fingers to her own cunt.
Haruna's breath stopped.
Rio's eyes fluttered half-closed as she touched herself, using Haruna's slickness to wet her own fingers, coating herself in the evidence of Haruna's desire. Her hand moved slowly, deliberately, her middle finger tracing her own folds, spreading Haruna's moisture over her own skin. A soft sound escaped her throat—a hum of pleasure, of possession—as she felt herself getting wet, felt the friction of her own touch mixed with the taste of Haruna on her skin.
Haruna watched, transfixed. She had seen Rio touch herself before, had watched her come undone countless times, but this—this was different. This was ritual. This was Rio claiming Haruna's body as part of her own, taking what Haruna had given her and making it a part of her pleasure.
Rio's fingers moved deeper, her own slick now mixing with Haruna's, and she let out a shaky exhale. "God, bunny. You have no idea."
"Show me," Haruna whispered.
Rio pulled her fingers out, glistening and wet, and reached down. She pressed her hand to Haruna's cunt, smearing her own arousal over Haruna's already slick folds, mixing them together until there was no way to tell where one of them ended and the other began.
The sound was obscene—wet, slick, the unmistakable noise of two bodies meeting. Rio's fingers slid through the combined moisture, spreading it, coating every inch of Haruna's swollen flesh, and the sound made her curse under her breath.
"Fuck, listen to that." Her voice was rough, almost guttural. "Listen to how wet you are. How wet we are together."
Haruna's hips bucked, seeking more, and Rio obliged—slowly, torturously, sliding two fingers into Haruna's waiting heat. The sound changed, deepened, a wet slide that filled the quiet morning air.
"That's it," Rio breathed, her fingers pushing deeper, feeling the mix of their arousal coat her skin. "That's my bunny. So fucking wet for me. So ready."
Haruna's head pressed back into the pillow, her mouth open, her eyes half-closed. Rio's fingers moved inside her, slow and deep, spreading their combined wetness, making the sound grow louder, more obscene, more beautiful.
"You know what I want to do to you right now?" Rio's voice dropped, lower, filthier. "I want to put my mouth on you and not come up for air until you've come on my tongue so many times you forget your own name."
Haruna whimpered, her hips grinding down onto Rio's fingers.
"I want to taste you," Rio continued, her thumb finding Haruna's clit, circling it slowly through the slick. "I want to bury my face in your pussy and drink every drop of you. I want to feel you come apart against my mouth, your thighs shaking, your hands in my hair, my name on your lips."
"Rii—"
"I want to eat you until you're nothing but sensation," Rio said, her voice a low, possessive growl. "Until the only thing you can do is feel. Until you can't remember where I end and you begin."
She pulled her fingers out, slow and deliberate, and brought them to her own mouth. Her tongue traced the length of them, tasting the mix of them both, and her eyes fluttered closed as she swallowed.
"You taste like everything," she murmured. "Like home. Like mine."
Haruna reached down, her hand gripping Rio's wrist, pulling her back. "Then come here. Come taste me properly."
Rio's smile was slow, predatory, full of promise. She lowered herself, her body sliding down the length of Haruna's, her lips pressing kisses to Haruna's stomach, her hip, the inside of her thigh.
And then she paused, her mouth hovering inches from where Haruna needed her most.
"Beg me," Rio said, her voice a whisper against Haruna's skin.
Haruna's breath caught. Her hips lifted, searching, but Rio pulled back just enough to deny her.
"Beg me, bunny. Tell me what you want."
"Please," Haruna breathed, the word falling from her lips like a prayer. "Please, Rii. I need your mouth. I need you to—" She stopped, swallowed, her voice breaking. "I need to feel you."
Rio's lips brushed against her, featherlight, teasing. "Feel me where?"
"There." Haruna's hand found Rio's head, pressing, guiding. "Please. I need your tongue inside me. I need you to—"
The sentence dissolved into a moan as Rio's mouth finally, finally pressed against her.
The first touch of Rio's tongue was soft—a slow, exploratory stroke through her folds, tasting the mix of their arousal, learning the shape of Haruna's need. Rio's eyes closed, a sound of satisfaction vibrating against Haruna's skin, and the vibration sent a shockwave through Haruna's entire body.
Haruna's hips bucked, her fingers tightening in Rio's hair, and she let out a sound that was half-sob, half-moan—the sound of finally, finally getting what she needed.
Rio's tongue moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the length of Haruna's slit, circling her clit with the tip before dipping lower, pushing inside, tasting the depth of her. The morning light caught the movement of her jaw, the way her mouth worked against Haruna's body, the way her fingers pressed into Haruna's thighs, spreading her wider, opening her completely.
And Haruna let herself be opened. Let herself be seen. Let herself be devoured by the woman who had promised her forever, the woman who was proving it with every stroke of her tongue, every sound of pleasure she made against Haruna's skin.
The morning stretched before them, golden and unhurried, and Rio was right—they had all the time in the world.
Haruna's fingers tightened in Rio's hair as the orgasm crested—not a gentle wave but a breaking thing, something that had been building since the first kiss of morning, since the first brush of Rio's tongue against her skin. Her back arched off the bed, a raw, involuntary curve, and she pushed her cunt harder against Rio's mouth, a wordless plea for more, faster, deeper. Her hips rolled with a desperation she couldn't name, grinding down, making sure Rio's tongue was buried as deep as she could take it.
Rio's nose pressed against her clit with every movement—that sharp, perfect pressure that was almost too much, that made the pleasure worse in the way that made it better, deeper, more. The sensation was a live wire running through her pelvis, up her spine, into her skull where coherent thought dissolved into pure, animal need.
Haruna threw her head back, her throat exposed to the morning light, and a curse fell from her lips—soft, surprised, a rare thing for her. Between moans, between the broken sounds that filled the quiet room, her voice came out wrecked and raw, confessing something she never would have said even a week ago, something that would have embarrassed her, shamed her, made her close off. But not now. Not with Rio's tongue inside her, not with Rio's mouth claiming her like she was something sacred and filthy all at once.
"I can't believe—fuck—I can't believe I turned into such a slut," she gasped, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "Addicted to sex. All because of you. Just for you, Rii. Just for you."
Rio laughed against her—a low, smug sound that vibrated through her cunt, through her entire body, and Haruna felt it like a second orgasm building before the first had even finished. The vibration made her hips jerk, made her cry out, and she could feel Rio's smirk pressed against her skin, that arrogant, satisfied curve of her lips that Haruna wanted to kiss off her face even as she wanted to keep her exactly where she was.
"Don't you dare laugh at me," Haruna breathed, but there was no heat in it, only breathless, desperate affection. "You—you've been fucking me back to back for two days now. I haven't done anything but have sex with you. My apartment—" She broke off as Rio's tongue pressed deeper, curling inside her, and she had to grab a breath before she could continue. "My apartment bedroom already smells like sex. It smells like us. Like you."
Rio's laugh came again, softer this time, but still that smug, possessive sound that made Haruna's thighs tighten around her head. Her tongue kept moving, steady and relentless, and her fingers pressed into the soft flesh of Haruna's hips, holding her open, holding her steady as she rode out the aftershocks of the first orgasm and felt the second one building, coiling low in her belly like a spring wound too tight.
"You're proud of yourself," Haruna managed, her voice strained, half accusation and half worship. "You're so proud of what you've done to me."
Rio pulled her mouth away just long enough to speak, her lips brushing against Haruna's slick skin, her voice low and rough and full of that devastating confidence. "Extremely proud. You're my masterpiece, bunny. I made you this. Only for me."
And then her mouth was back, her tongue sliding inside Haruna again, and Haruna stopped trying to form words. She let her head fall back, let her body take over, let herself be devoured by the woman who had promised her forever and was proving it with every stroke of her tongue, every possessive sound she made against Haruna's skin, every moment she held Haruna exactly where she wanted her—open, vulnerable, completely hers.
Haruna came again, a sharp, gasping climax that she cried out into the quiet room, her fingers twisted in Rio's hair, her thighs trembling around Rio's head, her body arching off the bed as she surrendered completely to the pleasure Rio had spent years learning how to give her.
And through it all, Rio held her. Steady. Present. Devouring. Claiming. Promising without words that this was only the beginning, that the morning stretched before them with all the time in the world, and that she was not done with Haruna yet.