Kaleidoscope - Whispers
Disclaimer: Erina would get wayyyy more screen time if I owned SnS. But she doesn't.
Warning: This chapter is RATED M for sexual content! Read at your own discretion.
A/N: This is technically a follow-up to my one-shot, "Whispers," but you don't really have to read it to get the gist of this. It's separate from the original because it's all SomaxErina; love triangle unmentioned.
He saunters into her room like he's done it a thousand times, and while that may be an exaggeration, it isn't entirely untrue. Whirling around from her desk in the corner, she shoots him an irritated glare before returning to her work. Probably that essay for our Food Safety and Regulations class, he thinks absentmindedly while closing and locking the door behind him.
Her room is dark save for the light shimmering from the lamp on her desk, but it's enough to allow him to navigate through. Unlike his room, hers is pretentiously immaculate, and he doesn't have to worry about tripping over haphazardly thrown clothing.
"Not even a sarcastic remark, Nakiri? I must be losing my touch," he teases, automatically removing his jacket and loosening the tie of his uniform. He pauses momentarily, idly wondering when he became so accustomed to undressing upon entering her room, but hangs his clothing on her coatrack nonetheless. Approaching her from behind, he rests his hands on top of her shoulders, kneading the skin beneath her blouse with his thumbs. Her blazer and bow had already been discarded, he notes. She tenses upon contact, but quickly relaxes into his touch. "Or maybe you've just gotten used to me."
At his remark, she scoffs. "Oh please, no one but you is uncivilized enough to walk into a girl's room without knocking." Her tone is condescending, but the way her head reclines back against his abdomen, eyes closed, is ample evidence that she is enjoying his ministrations enough to not really care for his lack of manners.
"Why knock when you know I'm coming?"
"It's been a few days," she murmurs, her shoulders imperceptibly drooping. The action does not elude him. "Besides, what if I had been in the middle of changing?" He brushes her hair to one side and moves one of his thumbs to the back of her neck, rubbing circles along the side of her spine. Her head instinctively drops forward to give him better access.
"It would have been nothing I haven't seen before," he shrugs, the corner of his lips stretching upwards as he watches her skin redden beneath his fingertips.
"Shut up," she hisses, "You're just further proving my point about your incivility."
He merely chuckles, looking over her to take a look at her desk. As he predicted, the paper in front of her contains notes for their joint class, though other files are stacked neatly at the corner of her desk. He discerns that they're in English, but his knowledge of the language isn't proficient enough for him to read it upon a glance. He keeps the thought in the back of his head in case he wants to ask her about them later.
"Eeeeh, you look like you have your paper all planned out! You should let me copy it later," he jests, bringing his face next to hers to get a better look at her essay. She doesn't even flinch, but one of her eyes peek open at him.
"As if, Yukihira. Do your own work."
He supposes the fact that she hasn't moved away is a good indication that their relationship, whatever relationship that is, has progressed since their first year at Totsuki. Two years can change a lot of people.
And two years of being a classmate of Nakiri Erina has told him when something about her was off.
To be honest, he's been trying to rile her up all day, but Erina has been almost as absentminded as he is on a regular basis. She handed him the salt in their Mediterranean Cuisine class without any snide remarks, had seemed overly uncaring and wistful throughout their Food Safety and Regulation course, and just as their classes ended for the day, she gave him a long, observational stare when he bid her goodbye. He had wondered if it was because he hadn't visited her the past few nights that she seemed so distant, though he really didn't think she thought that highly of him for it to affect her in such a way. Regardless, he had been set on seeing her after dinner ended.
"You knew I was helping Tadokoro," he starts slowly, gauging her reaction, "prepare for her cooking exam in Chappelle-sensei's class." He had told her ahead of time about it and hadn't thought much of it since. He doesn't try overly hard to avoid talking to her about his dormmate, but he also isn't so insensitive as to mention her unnecessarily.
"Yes, and if she wanted to pass, she would have been better off choosing someone other than you to taste test," she replies without missing a beat, any undercurrent of hostility absent. He knows despite what she thinks or feels about his relationship with the bluenette, she does respect Tadokoro's skill as a chef. Not to mention that Tadokoro Megumi is generally a hard person not to like.
"Hey now, I am the second seat," he says in mock offense, squeezing the hand on her shoulder still as if to affirm his position.
"I know," is her simple response, and it makes him all the more apprehensive. His fingers thread themselves through her hair to gently massage her scalp, the strands of strawberry-blonde a pleasant contrast to his skin. As far as innocent touches go, this is unquestionably her favorite. Hopefully it placates her before he starts his inquisition.
"Erina," he begins earnestly, using her first name to further emphasize his seriousness. With the way her body stiffens, he knows she catches his tone. "What's wrong?"
He realizes that he understands her better than he thought he did when she forces a sardonic laugh from her lips. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong with me, Yukihira. Stop assuming things and," she whips around in her chair to face him, stripping all contact he had with her, orchid eyes ablaze, "stop arrogantly asserting your presence in someone else's home."
He can't pinpoint exactly when he was able to recognize her lies, but the wall she puts up for the rest of the school population to see has just erected itself before him. He also doesn't remember the last time she blocked him out, and something in him aches at the sight.
"When have I ever given you permission to call me by my first name?" she shouts, near hysterics, standing from her seat and jabbing her index finger into his chest. He can see the cracks in her wall already forming, and he's partly relieved, partly afraid.
"Erina," he says again, bringing his arms up to wrap around her frame and coax her to him. She breaks immediately, sobbing into him, shaking in a way he's only seen her do once before. He instantly knows the culprit, and it makes his blood boil. "What did your father do to you this time?"
He can feel her lips tremble through his button-up. "I don't want to talk about it right now," she mumbles stubbornly, hands clenching his shirt. He wants to protest because Nakiri Azami is a monster, and he's well acquainted with what that man is capable of.
Before he can even speak, she sinks into his arms, forcing him to bear her weight. "Make me feel better."
Her words came out like a demand but he knows upon looking at her that it was more of a plea. He suspects this isn't something that can be solved through physical means, but he reminds himself the reason he ever stepped foot inside her bedroom to begin with was because of his ability to help. Again, he contemplates not for the first time since he's entered her room today how this part of their relationship came into bloom.
Nevertheless, he nods, gently lifting her up from under her knees with one arm and supporting her back with the other. He doesn't carry her often, but when he does, he can't help but notice how small and fragile she is. At school, she holds her head high and walks with such authority that even he occasionally forgets how vulnerable she can be. As he sets her down on her bed, making sure to rest her head on the pillow, he climbs over her and recognizes that she is indeed that – vulnerable.
Her eyes are still watery and cheeks still flushed from crying. He places a kiss on her forehead, trails down the side of her face, and sucks lightly at the sensitive spot on her throat. With practiced fingers, he begins unbuttoning her blouse, starting from the top and spreading the shirt wide open when he reaches the bottom. His hand glides over the taut skin of her abdomen before retreating to her upper back. Pulling away from her neck, darkened eyes sweep indiscreetly over her body before locking with hers.
"You're beautiful," he states, voice low, as if it's fact, and as far as he's concerned, it is. Her hair is splayed across the pillow, wild yet majestic. Her white blouse provides a stunning contrast to her pale skin, chest brandishing a rosy hue. Her sideburns, fierce and unlike any other he's ever seen, frame her face and accentuate her sharp features. Of course, there are the other assets she's been gifted with that he plans on fully appreciating tonight, including the ones currently caged in her light pink bra, but it's the ethereal glow that seems to envelope her whole body that leaves him breathless.
Upon hearing his words, she bites her lower lip, fresh tears brimming as she cups his face within her dainty hands.
"Kiss me," she whispers, and he obliges. His lips mold with hers like they've done hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, and he realizes he's missed them more than he ever would've thought after those few days they've been apart. Her moan comes instantaneously upon contact, her back arching slightly off the bed. He takes the opportunity to deftly unhook her bra and find homage on her breast, kneading it gently within his grip. She mewls in satisfaction at his touch.
She sits up, pushing him backwards, and he helps her discard her clothing between kisses. Holding her gaze, one hand travels up her thigh, hooking his fingers on her stocking and dragging it leisurely down her leg. A shiver runs down her spine as he repeats this action with her other leg, carefully caressing her skin with his knuckles and watching her eyes blacken in raw desire. He shifts to her skirt and tugs it off in one swift movement, amused when it catches on her foot. To hide her embarrassment, Erina works quickly with the buttons on his shirt, nudging it off his shoulders before focusing on his belt.
Her fingers fumble with the buckle, and he chuckles lightly before helping her with it and sliding out of his trousers. Automatically latching on to the planes of his torso, her hands glide over the ridges and lock together around his neck. She wrenches him in for another kiss, tongue slithering hotly over his lips before forcibly invading his mouth. Not that he minds, as his grip finds her ass and gives it a firm squeeze. This elicits a gasp from her and he presses her back onto the bed. His fingers drift up the space between her thighs and dips under her white panties. She didn't match her underwear today, he observes, and he briefly wonders if she wasn't expecting him.
His middle finger finds the nub between her folds and rubs gentle circles around it. Hearing her breath hitch at his touch, he suppresses the growl bubbling in his throat. He watches as her face scrunches up in pleasure, and takes comfort in the fact that, even if it's only temporary, she isn't sad anymore.
His teeth graze one of her nipples while his free hand plays with the other. She releases a whimper as her hands dig into his hair and tug at his roots. "Soma," she breathes, and he relishes in the sound of his name rolling off her tongue.
She's plenty wet now, he notes, his fingers sliding into her. Her hips jerk at the intrusion, but he steadies her with the weight of his body. He doesn't need to see her expression to know that she's pursing her lips to refrain from screaming as his digits pump in and out of her. Her walls are clamping down on him even as her legs spread wider, and he kisses her to swallow the moan of her release as she comes down from her high. She's still dazed when he withdraws from her to shimmy her out of her panties and he, his boxers.
"Feeling better?" he asks, kissing the palm of her hand as he aligns himself with her body. She stares at the oddly affectionate action and a blush that has nothing to do with their sexual intimacy color her cheeks. It's solely at her reaction that he comprehends he did something out of the ordinary, but it doesn't strike him as being wrong. "Erina?"
Remembering that he had asked her a question, she quickly nods. She glances down at his hard member and encircles her hand around it. This time, he allows the growl to escape as she grips him firmly, twisting her hand up and down his erection. A small smirk plays on her lips. "But we're definitely not finished yet."
He wants nothing more than to immediately bury himself inside her, but something tells him that today is not the time for that. Instead, he captures her lips again, securing his arms beneath her knees and spreading her legs wide as he slips into her. Her eyes instantly shut, lips parting in a noiseless gasp, hips rising off the bed. He groans when he's all the way inside her, pulling out slowly before pushing in again. Her slender legs wrap around his waist as he collects her in his arms, placing feather-light kisses at the crook of her neck. He increases his rhythm when he feels her squeeze his torso, hips bucking eagerly to match his.
Usually, he teases her more, making her beg for her release, or encourages her to try different positions. But something about today has made him think about things he doesn't usually ponder about and do things he doesn't usually care to do. So when she says "harder," he follows, and when she commands "faster," he obliges. He has the urge to please her, and he realizes, despite how long and how many times they've slept together, that this is the closest to "making love" they've ever been.
The thought almost makes him pause in his movements, but the desire to not disappoint her keeps him going. Erina, and maybe Soma as well, have always been careful every time they've had sex. Never too close, never too affectionate, because they weren't like that – they weren't in love. He couldn't remember their reasoning for starting and continuing this little tryst, but it hasn't once crossed his mind to stop. He may have tried to convince himself that he needed her to remain stable, as to not jeopardize her talent, or else he wouldn't be satisfied when he takes the first seat from her; but who was he kidding? She's never needed someone else to boost her skills as a chef.
He pushes his thoughts aside, pace unfaltering as he continues thrusting in and out of her. Her arms are wrapped around his upper torso, nails digging into his skin. He refuses to admit it out loud, but the feeling of her nails scraping down his back arouses him even more, causing his hips to jolt roughly against hers. She cries out, arching into him, as if she's baring her generous chest and creamy, smooth neck in offering to him. He bends his head down to nip her right above her collarbone, and the strangled moan it elicited is a kind he seldom hears. "Erina," he groans into her ears, and he feels her vaginal walls contract around his member.
She's close and he's not too far behind. He thrusts harder, penetrating her as deep as he can, before pulling out only to ram into her again. Her whole body clenches around him and his name is a mantra on her lips. When she climaxes, she does so like a crushing wave, her whole being writhing beneath him, and he's not sure his mouth was effective in muffling her scream this time around. He follows soon after, jerking out of her and finishing onto her stomach. Chests heaving, they take a moment to catch their breaths, slightly dazed but still fixated on the other. He grabs some tissues from her nightstand, strategically placed for this occasion, and wipes his semen off her skin. Keeping his elbows bent just enough to support his own weight, he collapses on top of her, head buried in her neck as he breathes in her natural scent. Her hands reach up to play lazily with the locks in his hair.
With every caress of her fingers, the palpitations of his heart slow to a steady beat. He's the one that's supposed to be making her feel better, but he feels an undeniable soft calm with her nestled in his arms. Had three days away really made him lax with her? He doesn't think so, considering their first meetup post summer break was more rough than gentle. Hesitantly, he rolls off of her, drawing her to him and resting his head on top of hers. Since he's already thinking things he doesn't usually pay mind to, he admits that there's a comfort in being connected to her that he's never noticed before.
"Yukihira-kun," she mutters into his chest, effectively breaking his reverie, "Thank you."
It's he who tenses this time around. He pulls away to look down at her, possibly preparing to ask about her father again, simply to find her breathing evenly, fast asleep. She's pretty cute like this, he smiles to himself, gingerly tracing patterns down her spine. Something about her unguarded expression warms him, and he falls asleep with his fingers lingering on the small of her back.
It's still dark outside when he wakes up, though he's not sure how long they've been asleep. They've shifted out of their embrace sometime during the night, and Erina is now an arm's length away with her back to him. He briefly watches her, appreciating her bare, porcelain skin bathed in the moonlight from the back and halo-like glow from her desk lamp in the front. He's reaching out to touch her, intent on dragging her to him again, when she speaks up.
"Don't," she says curtly, but he can already hear the desolation in her voice. Turning onto her back, she stares at the ceiling, expression clouded and incredibly unreadable. His stomach churns in uncertainty.
"Soma-kun," she starts, still not looking him, so she doesn't see how his eyes widen at the sound of his name. The only time she ever calls him by his first name is during sex, and although he wants to be happy about it, he knows he's going to be anything but.
Finally, almost unnoticeably, she turns her head. Her gaze shifts towards him, as if trying to discern his expression, before closing her eyes momentarily. When she opens them, they're glossy, the purplish-pink hue scintillating like the stars outside in an anguished augury. Gorgeous and enrapturing, they only foretell despair.
"I'm leaving Totsuki."
Word Count: 3252
Special Thanks: To | Hypocrisy | for proofreading this for me after my first run through! This was my first time writing a sex scene, so I was incredibly nervous about it, and Hypo was very encouraging! Also, SUPER-HUGE thanks to my fiancé for fixing a bunch of stuff with me! He's read my original works before, but never a fanfic, and I was very flustered as he read this (and he insisted on reading it out loud!). He's wonderfully supportive though, despite not even being into fanfics. But that's why I'm marrying him. ;)
SO. HELLO EVERYONE. Sorry for being MIA for so long, and sorry that there's yet to be an update for "Savior" (for anyone still interested in that). I have over half of it written but I'm just not feeling it? (Meanwhile, I'm writing a bunch of one-shots *cough*) BUT. I hope you enjoyed this fic. I'm just going to throw all my one-shots in here, and sometimes they'll be follow-ups of previous stories, but more often than not, they'll stand alone.
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED "Savior" OR "Whispers"! I appreciate EVERYONE'S feedback, all good and bad, and I take them ALL into account when I write. So THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Now, with that said…
PLEASE REVIEW. This is my first lemon/smut and I LOVE FEEDBACK. Were they sufficiently in character? Did the sex make you cringe or smile? What worked, what didn't work? I also take grammatical corrections. (: Let me know all your thoughts~!
Thanks for reading!