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Every muscle in Shiraishi’s body tensed when you sat beside him on the couch in his living room. Stopping his hands from clenching, he took a deep breath to settle himself.
Life was different now, with you visiting him several times a week and him taking you on dates just as often. You cooked for him. You cleaned for him.
You waited for him.
You had waited, and your patience was appreciated more than you could imagine.
Obviously he couldn’t find the words to tell you that explicitly, but it was true.
Over the months, you gently pushed him a few times to hold your hand while walking or to kiss each other goodbye, but the romantic gestures ended there. Shiraishi knew you would wait forever if he wasn’t ready, but he couldn’t possibly let that happen. The temptation was there—strong, he might add—but the actions leading to it were difficult.
Of course he wanted to kiss you more often, but where did he begin? His lack of experience at thirty years old was unacceptable to most anyone, and surely to you as well.
Not to mention, with his past playing such a complicated role in his life, it made true, comfortable intimacy nearly impossible.
Ah, but he never sensed even the slightest anger when he pushed you away in frustration. Holding a night’s kiss too long brought strange feelings to his chest that were…welcome? Disliked? Painful? He wasn’t sure, but he needed time before he could go further.
Your patience both amused and confused him. When you had the pick of the litter, what made him the grand prize winner? Not that he minded, of course, but he wondered, and that wonder drove him mad at times.
On nights like those, he lay in bed with his eyes wide open, thinking and thinking and thinking until the sun crested over the horizon. Robotically, he’d move through his morning routine and leave for work, where he’d find your friendly face waiting for him at the entrance to the police station.
At that moment, his heart exploded through his chest. He had half a mind to whisk you out of sight for the rest of the day.
To do…what exactly?
You chose something seemingly random on the television—some kind of game show—and pulled your legs onto the couch, your body sliding toward him. “Shiraishi?” you asked quietly.
“Hm?”
“Can I get closer?”
Chuckling, that ever-present mask reappearing as swiftly as it managed to disappear, he snaked an arm around the back of the couch and welcomed you into his side. With a childish innocence, you snuggled against him, your head nuzzling into the inside of his shoulder and your arms wrapping tightly around his waist—so much that he huffed at the pressure.
“What is it? Afraid I’ll disappear?” he teased, letting his hand fall onto your arm and rubbing a few heavily practiced strokes on your warm skin.
“I need you though,” you replied, smiling as you adjusted to get more comfortable. “You’re comfy, and there’s nothing on TV. What else are we supposed to do?”
Ah, a hint, was it? The hope in your voice betrayed your naughty desires.
Putting up a stronger barrier of confidence, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “What could that mean?” he asked. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re implying something.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” You paused, thinking of your next move, before your shoulders lost their tension. “I really want to kiss you, Kageyuki. Can I do that?”
“Kageyuki?” His brain stuttered.
That’s right. That was his name. His first name. When was the last time he had heard it except when you begged him for something ridiculous, like a snack or toy capsule?
His outer barrier crumbled.
“Why did you call me that?” he asked, trying to regain his bearings.
You shrugged, your eyes remaining on the flashing TV. “I wanted to.”
“There wasn’t a reason?”
“No, not really. I felt like it.”
But…But you only used that moniker in times of (what he eventually realized was called) passion. Why now? Were you trying to coerce him, or perhaps trying to explain yourself?
His brow furrowed. “You’re weird.”
“So are you,” you laughed, “so it’s okay, right?”
Humming, Shiraishi took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You want to kiss?” he asked.
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“You don’t need to ask,” he said, lying. In fact, he appreciated it more when you indicated you wanted intimacy outside of expected moments. There was no way he could have predicted that you had invited yourself to his house for more than dinner and a movie. Then again, he knew many young adults used that as a facade for their dubious activities, but himself? Thirty years old and acting like a teenager?
Sometimes, he yearned for another chance at those lost years.
Now was a fantastic opportunity to experience something that he missed out on when he was raised by those terrorists.
You pulled yourself off of his chest and sat facing him, your body angled in such a way that you would be most comfortable. Mirroring you perfectly, Shiraishi reached a steady hand to cup your cheek. The warmth of your blush sent a wave of both peace and nerves into his heart. Still so confusing, he thought, and yet you welcomed his touch with a tilt of your head into his palm.
When you leaned forward, he waited until your eyes were closed to allow his to creep shut as well. Even so, the moment your lips brushed his, he found them opening to observe your expression. Relaxed, unlike him. He envied your confidence with this sort of thing—how easy it was for you to kiss him and follow your instincts when he had been raised to avoid any inkling of personal pleasure.
Pulling back, you sighed, a content smile growing across your face. “Could we…?” You started your sentence but didn’t finish as your hands raised to latch behind his neck. Still nothing new, but the dimness of his living room made it feel quite different. “Maybe we can experiment a little tonight?”
Surprised by your offer, he froze, his eyes widening. “An experiment?” he asked. “You’re not one to express interest in anything along those lines. That’s more like something I would say.”
“I can be curious about things too,” you replied.
“Oh? Such as?”
Your soft gaze wandered down his face to his lips. “Such as wondering what you’d think if I opened my mouth when we kissed.”
He blinked, more confused. Was that something people actually did? More importantly, did it feel good enough to engage in for longer sessions? He’d only experienced the lingering honesty and adoration of a goodnight or goodbye, not a kiss that involved open mouths and, he assumed, tongues fighting for dominance. After all, what was the end goal of a kiss like that but to dominate the other person?
Unless he was missing something here?
He supposed, without knowing what it was like, he couldn’t come to a conclusion that would satisfy him.
Reining his emotions back in, replacing the nervousness with curiosity, he nodded once—slowly.
“Are you sure?” you asked, taking his hands in yours and giving them a firm squeeze. “We don’t have to try it tonight, but I’d like for you to think about it.”
“No need to dwell on it further,” he said, half-forcing a smile through the anxiety. “I wonder…since it seems so peculiar…if it’s enjoyable.”
Your expression brightened and your shoulders relaxed, excitement palpable in the air surrounding you. “Okay.” Leaning a little closer, you made sure to catch his eye before smiling gently. “Push me away if you need to stop.”
Again, he nodded.
With how slow you moved, he could count down from ten before your eyes closed and your lips brushed his—delicate and tender like flower petals or feathers on cat toys. He responded like a mirror, pleasantly content that your kisses were soft and patient just like your personality.
When your mouth opened and your lips cupped his in a strange way, he followed step by step and found himself delighting in the new, warm, breathy sensation.
A tiny voice in the back of his mind growled, warning him to stop finding pleasure in something that didn’t contribute to a greater, darker cause. Joyfulness and gratification, when done mainly to please himself, was wrong…wasn’t it? He didn’t deserve these feel-good chemicals rushing his brain.
To the best of his ability, using every trick all these years of therapy taught him, Shiraishi shoved the thoughts down and away.
He may not have deserved this, but you deserved to be happy. This type of kiss made you smile against his mouth. Therefore, the right thing to do was to continue it until it reached its logical conclusion, whatever that was.
Just as he’d begun to adjust to your hot breath inside his mouth, you pulled back and whispered, “Can I use my tongue?”
“To do what exactly?” he asked, face flushing scarlet in the flickering of the TV.
“It’s hard to explain,” you said, giving his hands another squeeze. “Can we try it? I promise you can push me off if it’s too overwhelming.”
A bit disoriented, he agreed, a feeling of yearning beginning to build in his chest. He missed you, yet you were right in front of him. What a strange emotion this “love” thing was, especially in sharing it with someone who claimed to love him in return.
You kissed him again, taking a minute to build up to opening your mouth and then, to his surprise, running your tongue along his lower lip before kissing him carefully once more.
His brow furrowed. It wasn’t that it bothered him, but that the sensation was unusual and bizarre.
Even more strange was how his heart reacted to the lick as though a bullet had been shot beside his head. It pounded and pulsed in a fury unlike a typical panic attack and more like a desperation.
Shiraishi didn’t know what to do with his hands, but that seemed to be acceptable because you continued to hold them securely between your bodies. No need to introduce more pieces into the puzzle when he already felt overcome with emotion at this alone.
You did it again, so practiced that he almost didn’t realize it happened.
Then, gathering his newfound knowledge, he gave a tentative lick over your lip as well.
You hummed into the kiss, which he’d come to learn over time meant that you were pleased. Had he a tail, it would have wagged with joy that he brought you a sense of happiness all on his own.
A bit of back-and-forth later, and he’d drifted into a world of peace and tranquility, a place where no one existed aside from you and him. The sounds of lips, and tongues, and precious little moans drowned out the television, placing Shiraishi into a trance where he felt safe and soothed.
And loved.
Unconditionally loved.
A slight mistiming brought his tongue to lick yours.
Instantly he snapped from his dream and popped off your mouth, ready to apologize and go to a different room to give you space. He expected a grimace or even a slap for his accident.
But your dazed expression, your lidded eyes and open mouth, made him recalculate the odds.
With no words spoken, you led him back into the kiss with a reassuring smile.
Though hesitating, he knew after a few moments that he did very much enjoy kissing you, especially with tongue, and that he’d like it to happen more often.
Like electricity sparking, Shiraishi responded to your advances with cautious yet forward intention. His goal unknown, he nudged you back slightly and released your hands, quickly realizing he wasn’t sure where else to put them. Instead, they grasped your forearms and pulled you closer in what he knew was an odd way to ask for more pressure, whatever that looked like.
The world turned upside down.
A man like him didn’t deserve a love like this, and he certainly didn’t deserve it after everything he had done to hurt everyone around him.
But kissing you was too nice for him not to think that maybe, just maybe, all his time served allowed him these few minutes of pleasure.
Slowing down, you reached up to sweep his long hair away from his face and behind his ears. The softness of the gesture gave him pause, and he pulled away completely to check your intentions.
Still smiling, you untangled a couple of knots in his hair in an absentminded fiddling. “Let’s stop here,” you offered, leaving no room for interpretation. “I don’t want to push you too far.”
Dizzy with what he assumed to be a mixture of lust and cluttered, panicked thoughts, he nodded. Simultaneously, his mind raced and stood still.
A shield of protection lowered over his brain, locking him out of dwelling on whether or not he needed punishment for enjoying the kisses you shared with him. Self-flagellation was par for the course; if he didn’t do it to himself, someone else was sure to do it for him.
You seemed to catch his wandering mind and led him into a firm embrace, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck and wrapping your arms tightly around his back.
And in that moment, everything fell into place.
Just for a moment, but that was enough.
Shiraishi hugged you in return, his eyes closing and his breathing slowing over the ticks of the clock. The vulnerability frightened him, but with you, he felt secure and protected.
With you, he was home.