169 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 169 I don't intend to let her say no. And, perhaps, Sendai-san won't say no either. Still, I can't help but think about the possibility of her refusal. If only she could give me an answer soon, but her prolonged silence feeds my anxiety. "Sendai-san, your answer?" I urge her, trying to nudge her out of her silence, and she calls me "Miyagi." "The way you put it earlier, if I don't refuse, it means you're okay with it happening to you again, right? Do you understand that?" "…I understand." I’m fully aware of what I expressed. I won’t pretend I didn’t say those words. If it means having Sendai-san today, I am willing to use my future self as a bargaining chip. "As long as you're aware, that's fine." Sendai-san replies with a voice that's soft yet resolute. She gazes at me unblinkingly, and I want to avert my eyes. Yet, escaping her gaze makes what I am about to do feel overwhelmingly wrong, so I neither close my eyes nor look away. "So, does that mean it's alright?" I seek confirmation, and she responds, "That's what it means." Given how she’s been recently, a smile wouldn't be out of place, but today, she doesn’t grant me that. Her expression remains serious. The atmosphere implies that what we're about to do holds grave importance. I wish she'd act as she usually does. Pulling such a sincere face at a time like this is unfair. "Then, as an exchange, bring two towels." I voice this in a tone that's not too loud nor too soft, thinking of the earlier kiss as an exchange in Sendai-san's mind. "Eh, wait a minute. When I asked you if the condition for the kiss was that I let go of your hand, you said that wasn't it, right? I assumed it was for what we're about to do. So, it's for that?" "What we're about to do is because last time I listened to Sendai-san; it isn't the exchange." "I see. Alright, what will you use the towels for?" "Just bring them, please." "Miyagi, you pervert." Though her words and tone are as usual, Sendai-san's expression is different, unreadable from her normally expressive eyes fixated on me. "I haven't even said or done anything yet." Despite this familiar interaction, my voice turns stiff. "A towel has only ever been used to either tie my wrists or as a blindfold." "If you know the answer, don't bother asking." If Sendai-san keeps wearing a different face, all I need to do is cover it up. Once her expression is out of sight, I won't be bothered. Although I imagine restraining her would intensify my feelings of guilt, it would at least let me have my way. "Fine, I'll get it." With a resigned tone, Sendai-san stands up and proceeds to the chest of drawers, retrieving a white towel before returning to me. "Here you go." She places the towel atop my head and takes a seat on the bed. My eyes instinctively follow her, and my body moves. As the towel slips from my head, I catch it before it hits the floor, realizing there’s only one. "What about the other one?" "There was just one kiss, so one towel. Use it however you like." "That's unfair." "You're the unfair one, Miyagi." Sendai-san nudges my side with her foot. It feels like we've reversed roles. When it came to making her lick my feet, I was seated on the bed, while Sendai-san sat on the floor. But today, she sits on the bed, and I'm down on the floor. I grasp her ankle. Her legs are clad in denim, leaving almost nothing visible. Shifting my gaze upward, I see her arms extending from the short-sleeved T-shirt. Though it's neither her uniform nor a skirt, I'm now seeing something close to what she would always see. I don't intend to lick her feet, but it all feels strangely new. "Miyagi, have you decided what you'll do? If not, there's always the option of not using it." As her voice descends from above, I reply without hesitation. "Close your eyes. I'm going to tie you up." "What's the point of tying my wrists anyway?" She asks without closing her eyes. "To prevent any funny business while I'm busy." "Don't worry, I won't do anything. So, how about the blindfold?" "I just don’t want to be seen." I can't admit that her unusual demeanor is the cause. Instead, I offer another valid reason. "Isn't that typically my line? Usually, it’s the one being tied up who doesn’t want to be seen." "Sendai-san, you talk too much." Though she's naturally chatty, she's especially so today. If we keep bantering, nothing will happen, so I stand up, intent on wrapping the towel around her eyes. Yet, before it touches her, my wrist is caught. "You can blindfold me, but smile first." With a gentle voice, Sendai-san requests this, presenting me a soft smile as if coaxing me to return the favor. "No." "Then, kiss me." Apparently not expecting me to smile, she quickly throws out an alternative. There's no reason to refuse. As I slowly draw closer, Sendai-san's eyes shut. After taking a moment to study her beautiful face, I press my lips against hers, softer than the towel in my grasp, but before I can savor the warmth or smoothness, I pull away and cover her eyes. "I can't see anything." "That's the point." With a gentle touch to her shoulder, Sendai-san lies down on the bed. I sit beside her, turn off the lights, and place the remote on the bed. "…Sendai-san, face the other way." "The other way?" "Toward the wall." Although her eyes are covered and the lights are out, ensuring neither of us can see the other’s face, my heart still flutters at the thought of her looking my way. "Aren't you being a bit excessive?" "Just turn your whole body toward the wall." As she remains unmoved, I nudge her shoulder towards the wall. "I won't be able to kiss you, is that fine?" "It's fine." Upon my curt response, she turns toward the wall, seemingly surrendering to my whim. Guilt washes over me at her ready compliance. Touching Sendai-san to dispel my anxiety feels like disregarding her feelings. I always prioritize my own emotions. While she often shows concern for me, I fail to afford her even half as much care. I've never been right. I haven't interacted with Sendai-san correctly before, and even now, my reason for reaching out to her feels misguided. But I don't think I'm wrong. There has only ever been this way of connecting with Sendai-san, and my desire to touch her isn't misplaced. While it's not the proper conduct between roommates, being improper doesn’t change that we are roommates. Besides, Sendai-san said it’s okay for a roommate to do this. Thus, it’s alright to touch Sendai-san. After convincing myself, I lay down on the bed and wrap my arms around Sendai-san from behind. Through her T-shirt, our bodies press closely together. It feels like this is the first time I've hugged her of my own volition. "Miyagi, we're pretty snug here," she notes. "So what?" I reply. "I mean, as long as you're fine with it, Miyagi." Her hesitant words fade into silence. I realize I might be holding her too tightly. Even through the fabric, I can sense her body heat, and the scent of shampoo wafting from her hair is clear as ever, causing my heart to beat so loudly that I worry she might hear it. But the more parts of us that are in contact with each other, the more my anxieties disappear. I slide my hand beneath the hem of her T-shirt, feeling for her warmth. Pressing my palm against her stomach, she shudders slightly. I press my forehead gently against her back, just below her neck. I slide my hand from just above her belly button to her side, calling for her, "Sendai-san". Her small response of "What?" causes my heart to skip a beat, prompting me to lift my head. I take a small breath, then let my hand travel from her side to her back. Tracing her spine, I press my hand against the back of her heart but can't sense her heartbeat. Yet, I can feel that her body was hot. When I place a light kiss on her shoulder through the fabric, she shifts slightly. Running my hand just above her waistline, I softly dig in my nails. I hear Sendai-san let out a small sigh. Sliding my hands towards her chest, I gently touch her breasts over her bra, and only feel the texture of the fabric. She doesn't say anything, so I run my hands over her breasts as if to feel the shape. My fingertips can only feel the unevenness and seams of the lace. I want to feel her warmth and softness directly, like when I touch her stomach. It's not what covers her body that draws me; it's Sendai-san herself. Stroking her collarbone, I then let my fingers wander to her back, touching her bra clasp. "Can I undo this?" "Only if you'll let me do the same to you," she quietly responds. "I won't let you, but I want this undone." I slip my fingers under the clasp, brushing her spine. Though she neither consents nor declines, I move to bite her shoulder through her T-shirt, urging her answer. Her back tenses. She still says nothing, so I undo the clasp. "You're such a pervert, Miyagi," she mutters. Petending not to hear, I slide my hand from her back to her chest again, underneath her bra. Placing my hand directly on her breast, larger than mine yet not overwhelmingly so, I gently move my hand to wrap around it. Unlike the fabric, I could feel her body heat through her smooth skin. At the same time, I felt something hard press against my palm. At the heart of the softness. It simulates a single point on my palm conveying to me Sendai-san's reactions, causing my breath to catch—for a moment, I can't breathe. "Sendai-san." I whisper her name, pressing my hand against her firmly, but she doesn't respond. The sensation of the firm point under my palm grows stronger. When my finger brushes against it, her body jerks visibly—proof of her responsiveness—and I feel breathless once more. I feel pain in my chest as I inhale and exhale, struggling to block out my own heartbeat clamoring in my ears, yearning to touch her more than anything else. "Sendai-san." Her voice, breathy and tinged with faint color, responds with a simple, "Mm." That voice stirs my heart intensely. I long to elicit an even more different tone from her voice caressing my eardrums. As I carefully explore the nub with my fingers, covering it with my palm, her breast remains soft, only its center becoming more pronounced. Gently and tenderly, I continue to move my hand, feeling her softness and the firmness at the center, as Sendai-san's back begins to arch in tandem with my movements. In this moment, her vulnerability is adorable, making me wish to undress her and see every inch of her body. I want to turn the lights on, make it bright enough to see her skin. I want to leave marks on her chest, on her collarbone, and bite her fiercely and touch those marks to my satisfaction. Just as I reach to lift her T-shirt, she grasps my hand firmly. This firmness conveys her reluctance. Unlike when I undid her bra, her firm grip communicates a clear "no." I had told her not to take off my clothes before, so it's only fair. Forcing her could mean I can't go any further. “I won’t undress you, so, please, let go,” I quietly assure her. Her grip relaxes. Now’s not the time to stop touching her. There are still parts of her I haven't discovered. Pressing my body tightly against her rounded back, I gently stroke the center of her chest with my fingertips, kissing her shoulder softly over her clothes. I caress the surface of her skin, continuing to tenderly touch her soft breasts. "How long are you going to keep... touching?" Sendai-san's voice breaks unexpectedly. Her voice, now tinged with a subtle shade different from earlier, reaches my ears. I want to hear more. Instead of retreating my hand, I encircle her breast, finding the sensation so pleasant that I don't want to let go. “Miya—gi.” Sendai-san calls my name sharply, grasping my wrist firmly. Her back moves as I hear her breathe in and out. "That's enough, right?" With a small, almost defeated voice, Sendai-san moves my hand down to rest just below her ribs. A place devoid of bones, soft. Releasing her breasts, I let my hand explore her side, pinching slightly. "Ouch." She protests, voice thick with reproach. I sink my teeth into her shoulder, pressing my hands against her sides forcefully, feeling her sweat-slicked skin under my palm. As her warmth seeps through to me, I realize, belatedly, that my own body was just as hot. I pull back slightly from her back. My hand travels lower, brushing against her denim button. By undoing this, I might get to know Sendai-san even more. The thought makes me tense slightly, memories of how she treated me surfacing, aligning Sendai-san with the me back then. On this bed, I... As vivid memories of what happened to me flood back, my awareness gathers in my own abdomen. My body, half responding, now fully aware of what I am about do to Sendai-san. A part of her I've never touched. An unexplored area within Sendai-san. To touch there. The image of me and Sendai-san in my memory blend together leaving me struggling to unhook the button properly. "...Sendai-san, undo this." "Do it yourself." "I can't do it properly. Please." I plant my palm on her stomach. Even pressing hard, she remains still. Leaning my forehead against her shoulder, I ask once more, "Please?" and she unfastens the button for me. "Is this okay now?" At her words, I lower the zipper. My hand slips inside her jeans to feel her underwear. There is uncertainty on what comes next. But anxiety creeps in. Her body is responding to my touch, and though I can guess what's happening inside her underwear, things might not be exactly as I expect. "Miyagi?" Sendai-san's small voice reaches me, and after taking a slow breath, I slip my hand into her underwear. My fingers move forward, pushing against the stiff fabric of her denim. Reaching a spot I've never touched before, my fingertips are covered in something slick. It's not sweat but something more adhesive, clinging more than I imagined. This both reassures and unsettles me. I never imagined Sendai-san would react this way. Even though I don’t feel like I’ve done anything particularly skillful, the idea that my touch brought Sendai-san to a similar place I once reached makes my heart race wildly in excitement. I move my fingers cautiously. Her back moves so noticeably I can tell she is taking a deep breath. Some of her emotions cling to my fingertips, attempting to mingle with mine. Considering what we’re doing, it’s not strange. When Sendai-san touched me, I ended up similarly, so isn’t it right for her to have the same reaction? Yet I can’t truly believe it’s my own touch that’s doing this. Slowly, I explore the soft and yielding area, learning more about Sendai-san. My fingertips are hot. My back is hot. When I press tightly against Sendai-san through her T-shirt, the overwhelming heat leaves me dizzy, my breathing irregular. I apply a bit more pressure with my fingers as I lean in to kiss Sendai-san's ear, eliciting a muffled sound from her. Yearning to hear it more clearly, I bite her shoulder. "Ah, nn…" She lets out a strained, husky voice. Her voice resembles what I heard when she had a cold, yet it feels far more vivid now, enough to make my chest tighten almost painfully. "...Does it feel good?" Even though I already know the answer, pleasure and discomfort can make voices sound similar, and I can’t help but ask. "It does." Her voice is slightly higher than usual and sweeter than the cheesecake we had earlier. "How good?" "Do you normally ask something like that?" Her reply comes broken, yet clear enough for me to hear. "I don’t know what’s normal, just answer me." My own voice, following hers, shifts to something unlike its usual tone. "Very good." "And how much is 'very'?" "Very is... very..." "Explain so I can understand properly." Her breath hitches, and she tries to pull away, arching her back. I draw her closer by the waist, repeating my question, "Tell me". Resigned, she presses back against me, whispering quietly. "...Better than when I do it myself." "Eh...what?" Her whispering voice nearly escapes my ears, quietly shaking my eardrums right on the edge of comprehension. Her words, though barely heard through sound, resonate clearly in my head. It's not an answer I expected nor one I had sought, throwing me into confusion. I call her name, "Sendai-san", wrapping my arms around her. My thoughts swirl chaotically, failing to come together. What does she think of, how does she do it, when by herself? Or is "by herself" truly the case? Sendai-san remains silent and as I move my fingers to seek a reaction, a high pitched voice came out, rising unexpectedly. "Miyagi, just... be quiet." Her breathy, distressed voice had sighs mixed in between, leading my own breathing to also become erratic. I couldn't breath properly. Our irregular breaths fill the darkness. Unable to calm my ragged breathing, I press my fingers against Sendai's body and caress her. My fingertips are nearly drowning in the liquid overflowing from her body. Just by touching a part of her body that is so small, a part that my fingertips could cover, she changes so much. It might happen no matter who touches her, but I don't want to think that someone else could change Sendai-san like this. This body belongs to me alone, and I want to be the only one who knows this side of Sendai-san. "I can’t see you, at least let me hear your voice," she murmurs, gripping my arm. "My voice?" "Say my name." "Sendai-san." I oblige softly, calling her name. Even if it feels strange to hear what sounds like my own voice, calling her name feels oddly satisfying. Still, she responds with a dissatisfied "No." "Say...Hazuki" That name. That way of calling her. "No. I won't call you that." I don’t want to when I can’t make her mine entirely. "Stingy, Miyagi." She says, calling my name repeatedly. Miyagi. Mi-ya-gi. When I was in her position on this bed, she called my name in just the same way. Her voice still feels nice. Hearing my name repeated over and over, draped in Sendai-san’s voice, it threatens to engulf and pull me under beyond return. "Be quiet," I urge, pressing my forehead into her back. "Then seal my mouth," she challenges weakly, defiantly. When my fingers brush her lips, they get bitten. The slight sting doesn’t hurt, but her tongue touches my fingertip, heating it like its been burned. Withdrawing my fingers readily, she calls my name again. Miyagi, Miyagi, Miyagi. Her voice, repeated, fragments my name, embeds it in my being, filling every gap. Words flow through every nook, piercing me from within. It hurts, but feels wonderful. I move my fingers as if I'm in a fever, stroking hard and softly. "...Nn...ah." Her leaking voice caresses my ears, dropping deep inside me. The sensation binds me firmly to that Sunday, bringing back how much I enjoyed her touch, my body still poised to react, breath escaping raggedly. My fingertips almost seem to dissolve in heat. When I stop my fingers’ slow motion, her grip on my arm tightens, calling my name needily. I don’t know this side of Sendai-san. Her hands grab me so tightly that I can only imagine she wants me. Her body is hotter than ever before. Her heat is contagious and heats up my core. The things that are overflowing from me, as if melting me, are making me go crazy. I regret that I turned off the lights. Regret covering her eyes with a towel. I don't want her to see my face, but I want to know what kind of face Sendai-san has when she calls to me. I want her to look at my face, look into my eyes, and call me by my name. The anxiety that had taken up so much of me melts away, disappearing and being replaced by a desire to know. I want to know what she's thinking, what she's feeling when she calls my name. I want to know everything I don't know about Sendai-san, from her past to her future. I want her to tell me everything, without telling anyone else. Everything I don't ask, everything I can't ask. It doesn't have to be today, but I want her to tell me. "Sendai-san. — Sendai-san." I buried my face in her neck and call out in a husky voice, and she replied, "Shiori." There was a heat I'd never felt before in the name she called me, and my chest tingled as if it was burning. I couldn't breathe, so I pressed my fingers over her harder. I want her to feel even better than me, even more intensely. The slickness clinging to my fingers pulls me closer, so I press firmly. Her hand grips my arm tightly, but when I bite down hard on her neck, she flinches away. As I continue moving my fingers slowly, her rough breath calls out, "Miyagi." "Stop... for a moment, please." Her broken voice accompanies a smack on my arm. "Why?" I ask. "Why, you ask—" She trails off, takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, saying, "You know, it's normal. I can't take it anymore." Only now do I realize that continuing is impossible. "Sorry." I withdraw my hand from her underwear. When I turn on the light, I see Sendai-san curled up, her shoulders rising and falling slightly. Her face is still covered by the towel, hiding her expression. I shift my gaze to my fingers, slick with the warmth that had overflowed from Sendai-san. Rubbing them together, they still feel slippery. What remains on my fingers is a residue of what she experienced — the pleasure she expressed was genuine. Thinking that her fingers were once similarly marked on that Sunday evening makes my face heat up. "Miyagi?" Perhaps because I've been silent, Sendai-san says my name. As I continue to gaze at my fingers without replying, she sits up and starts to fidget with something. Curious, I glance her way to find her removing the towel and looking at me. "Miyagi, wait a moment. What are you doing?" Her voice holds a hint of irritation, though not quite anger, as she gets off the bed. She returns shortly, clutching the stuffed platypus. "You always clean up quickly, so do it today too." Mumbling as she sits back on the bed, Sendai-san takes my arm and wipes my fingers. Her remnants vanish into tissues, now discarded in the trash. "I thought you hated having dirty hands, Miyagi. Or am I wrong?" Her exasperated voice prompts me to look at her closely, noticing a slight blush on her cheeks. Our clothes are disheveled, reminding me of what just transpired between us. Without answering her question, I press my lips to hers. I’m unsure why I felt the urge to kiss her, but I wanted to feel the touch of her lips. After a brief peck, I draw back, only for Sendai-san to initiate another kiss. She presses her lips firmly against mine, her tongue slipping into my mouth, tracing my teeth, entwining with my tongue. The kiss lingers, slow and drawn-out, until she gently pushes me onto the bed. "I want to make you feel good, too," she whispers as my back meets the mattress. Her words make me instinctively push against her shoulders. My body's heat continues to linger from before, and being touched by her now might confuse me even more than last time. "No," I reply clearly, and her voice carries a hint of discontent. "Why? I want to touch you too." "Not now." "When, then?" "I don't know, but right now's not the time, so please move." The thought of being touched now when I might accept everything urges me to push her away and sit up. "Miyagi." Ignoring her soft call, I get off the bed and stand up, but she tugs at the hem of my T-shirt. When I glance back, she averts her gaze, a rare moment from her, before looking at me again. "Miyagi, you know, I—" Sendai-san's words trail off, and I wait for her to continue. But she remains silent, leaving the air thick with unspoken words.