"He wont come out." Hanbee is in clear dismay. "He's been locked in there all morning."
"Has he said why?" Your brow furrows.
"No. He refused to tell me." He toys with the bag in his hands anxiously. "He wont even open the door to get his snacks." Sighing, you lean on a folded hand.
"Give me the bag." Hand out-reached, you decide you may as well have a go. Juuzou doesn't often do things like this, but it seems you have a way of calming him when he does. Hanbee gives you the bag.
"I'll sort this." Smiling, you leave the room feeling determined.
Gently, you knock on the door of his bedroom. There is no answer. Focusing yourself, you are sure you can hear a faint sniffling sound.
"Can I come in?" You speak calmly. "I've got some snacks." You are met with more silence. Head resting against the door, you sigh heavily and wait for a long moment.
"Okay." His voice is unusually small.
Slow and hesitant, you open the door. He is sat on the edge of his bed, face deliberately turned away from you. Gently, you shut the door behind yourself and place the bag on the bedside table. Silent, you sit beside him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" You keep your voice quiet. He swallows hard, trying to push his sadness away.
"It's my fault." When he speaks, it is close to a whisper.
"What is?" Shuffling yourself closer to him, you lightly rest your hand over his.
"Sh-Shinohara-san." It's clear that he's working hard to keep his voice steady. "He's never going to wake up and that's all my fault."
"No." You say bluntly. Your tone catches his attention and he turns to face you. Tears trickle down his cheeks. Carefully, you cup his face. Your thumbs wipe the tears away.
Sniffling, he leans his head against your shoulder. Restless fingers tap against the light plastic of his prosthetic.
"He loved you, Juuzou." You wrap an arm around his shoulders, a comforting hand resting in his hair. "He wanted to protect you just as much as you wanted to protect him."
"I should have done more." He mutters. His face nuzzles against your neck. Frustrated, not with him but with the entire situation, you huff.
"You had just had your leg ripped off." Moving back, you cup his face again. You keep his eyes with yours. "You could not have done any more than you did."
Letting your hands drop from his face, you allow him to nuzzle himself against your neck again. Gentle lips kiss you. A hesitand hand rests on your thigh. Slowly, he peppers your neck with kisses.
"W-what are you doing?" You whisper. His hand moves, cautiously gliding into your hair.
"I want to be close to you." Quiet, his voice shakes ever so slightly. "Please."
"You're upset right now." Despite the fact that you've wanted him for a long time, you force yourself to test him. You wouldn't want him to act this way purely out of sadness.
"That has nothing to do with it." He continues leaving soft kisses against your neck.
"I just want to be with you." The hand in your hair pushes you to face him.
"Do you mean it?" Suddenly shy, you find it hard to bring yourself to look at him. He doesn't answer you in words. Instead, he kisses you. It is tender and affectionate. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes still shut.
"I want that too." Whispering, you move an unsteady hand to his face. A smile pulls at his lips, his sadness easing.
Laying back, he pulls you with him. Carefully, you straddle his hips. He keeps a hand in your hair as the other rests on your thigh. Gently, his tongue pushes into your mouth and dances slowly with yours. Instinctively, your hips move together. You feel him growing hard beneath you. Your kisses trail along his jawline, in search of his neck. As you find a sensitive area, his grip tightens just slightly on your thigh.
You move down his body, hands ghosting over him. Reaching his trousers, you nervously unbutton them. A hand absently twiddles the stitches by his lip as he watches you. His face clearly displays his anxious anticipation. As you free him of his trousers and underwear, his eyes close tightly. It seems as if he stops breathing as he worries about your reaction. Your fingers glide over his scarred thigh, moving to where is prosthetic begins. His eyes open slightly as he watches you.
"Why are you so nervous?" You whisper as your head moves down. "You're perfect." Smiling, he relaxes again. Scarred or not, nothing could change how beautiful he is to you. Lightly, your tongue moves over the underside of his erect length. His mouth hangs slightly open as a small moan escapes him. You take the entirety of his member in your mouth, tongue swirling around him. He trembles slightly as his hands fist in your hair. As pleasure washes over him, his hips buck against you. He pushes against the back of your throat. Eyes screwing shut, he struggles to control the volume of his moans.
"St-s-stop." He groans. Confused, you move away from him.
"Do you not like it?" Your brows furrow in concern. Your concern seems to amuse him as he lets out a weak giggle.
"I want to make you feel good too." He smiles. A strange sense of pride hits you; it's good to see him back to his usual self and it's all thanks to you. "Lie down." He pats the bed. Obediently, you lay yourself against the comfortable pillows. A playful smile touches his lips.
Eagerly, he flips your skirt out of his way. Impatient fingers pull your underwear away. His head ducks between your legs. Head tilted inquisitively, his fingers tease your entrance.
"It- it's so wet." His tone is curious. Watching your reaction, he flicks his tongue against your soft spot. Arching your back just slightly, you moan quietly.
"I like that sound." He comments, a subtle air of smugness about him. Carefully, he pushes his index finger into your wetness. As you begin moaning again, his tongue returns to your clit. Your fingers tangle themselves in his dark locks. His finger roughly strokes your sensitive area. Heat washes over you as the pleasure grows. Just as you reach the precipice, he moves away from you.
Grinning mischievously, he positions himself between your legs. You can't help but shuffle your hips closer to his, desperate to find the climax you are already so close to. He peppers your neck and face with playful kisses. Eyes meeting yours, the smallest trace of nervousness touches his features.
"C-can I-" He takes a moment to calm himself. "Can I put it in?" His hips move a little, pushing his swollen tip against your heat. Biting your lip, you nod.
Slowly, he pushes inside you. He is still for a moment; both to allow you to adjust and to assure the feeling doesn't push him over the edge too soon.
"Ah-uh." He moans. "It's tight." His tone is appreciative. He states it as a fact, not a deliberate attempt at talking lewdly. At first, his thrusts are erratic. As he figures out his rhythm, they become fast and hard. He forces you straight back to your edge. Your peak is just seconds away. Body trembling, you arch against him and grasp at his shirt. Moaning loudly, you tense around him. As your wetness coats him, he lets out an almost animalistic sound. Unable to hold back any longer, he reaches his own climax.
Clumsily, he throws himself on the bed beside you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you hard against himself. He kisses your cheek lovingly.
"I love you." He chimes. "Lots." You hold his hand firmly against your chest.
"I love you lots, too." Closing your eyes, you kiss his hand. "We should probably let Hanbee know that you're okay. He's been worried."
"I need a nap first." Juuzou shrugs, tightening his arms around you. Suddenly, his eyes shoot open. In a quick movement, he snatches the bag from the bedside table.
"I forgot I had these!" Happily, he shoves something into his mouth.
"I'm glad I could make you feel better." You chuckle. Mouth full, he nods and smiles.
