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Fingers crossed, fingers crossed, fingers crossed. You stare expectantly at your social studies teacher as his thumb traces down the list of names in his hands. His hands halts in the motion and he lifts his eyes barely enough to glower through the framework perched atop the very tip of his narrow nose. You’ve likened him to a hawk before, with those piercing little eyes, always hungry to embarrass yet another unlucky student. He can spot a mistake from a mile away.
“Asano,” he concludes. You throw your head back in exasperation, but immediately regret it as the redhead shoots a weary glance your way. You lower your face into your outstretched hand, elbows already sore from constantly supporting the weight of your heavy mind. You sigh quietly, adding to the annoyance welling up inside of your stomach.
It is not as if you hate him, but you can’t deny the strong taste of dislike you feel on your tongue for his behavior. You’re intelligent, sure, you’ve managed to defend your spot in class A after all, but that doesn’t mean it comes naturally. It takes a profuse amount of effort and motivation to keep up with the curriculum and your masochistic tendencies are not strong enough to long for a belittlement by class A’s golden boy.
There are certainly worse options when it comes to partnering, but Asano isn’t exactly in your top picks either. The modest limitations restricting the research project have allowed for creative freedom and you had hoped to give an imaginative twist for extra credit, but the feeling in your bones tells you Asano won’t be as inspired by your visions and choice of subject.
Although your aversion for the number one student comes seemingly naturally, he has never actually tormented you or given you a reason for your prejudice. The ones your hate stems from are his so-called ‘friends’, the five virtuosos as they call themselves. Their attitudes are just unbearable and you should count yourself lucky you get to avoid any interaction with any of them.
Once the bell rings you shove everything on your desk into your trusty backpack and bolt for the door. You don’t want to stay a minute overtime as school feels like your own personal hell. You decide you can just text Asano regarding the project details, first you’re due for a breather.
Unfortunately you hear his voice ring out for you the moment you cross the threshold of the classroom. Pretending not to have heard him, you steadily make your way over to your locker where you had abandoned your cozy jacket earlier this morning. Having made it to the lockers before any other students, it only takes one swift motion to open the lock and pull out the piece of clothing. With one arm shoved into a padded sleeve, you slam the metal door back into its frame.
When the lock slides back into place you spot a mop of strawberry blonde moving into focus. Quickly you turn on your heels, not even bothering to push your arm through the empty sleeve, choosing to let the jacket drape over your shoulder. You’re a fast walker, but the hallways are slowly invaded with more and more students and they don’t allow for much room. You charge through the crowd, maneuvering around little cliques as you chew the inside of your cheek in irritancy. Then the moment you’ve dreaded arrives.
“Hey, wait up!” A voice that unmistakably belongs to Asano rings out behind you. Inhaling the crisp autumn air, you surrender to your fate and reverse direction. The boy stands only a few feet away from you, the slightest sliver of aggravation tugging at the corner of his lips. “I called your name.” There is a clear entitlement to his intonation and you don’t think it’s a good look on him.
“I must not have heard.” You shrug, disinterest on your face as clear as day. Having already yielded to the circumstances, you take the opportunity to slip the jacket hanging loosely from your shoulder further up your arm. Avoiding Asano’s stare, you fumble with the zipper at the bottom of the apparel. To your embarrassment it takes more than one try to slot the compartments in to place, although it does give you an excuse to redirect your focus as he vies for your attention.
“It’s probably for the best if we get started on the project right away. Seeing as we need to decide on a subject first.” God, he’s so infuriatingly studious. All you want to do in this moment is go home and flop unceremoniously down, face first into the soft covers of your bed. You’re tired and you feel like today’s lectures have sucked every last drop of energy from your mind.
“Why don’t we think about it individually and then text each other our proposals? You know, so we can consider our options and decide on a thesis afterwards.” At this, Asano narrows his eyes, brows fumbled up in an unimpressed frown and you feel terribly judged on account of your laziness. It isn’t laziness per se, you need some time to unwind after all the stimuli your brain has received throughout the day. It is perfectly reasonable, but you’re afraid he’ll take your need for solitude as an excuse for indolence.
“It’s way more efficient if we have a brainstorming session together so we can feed off each other’s input. I say we go to the library so we can get started right away and have the fundamental material at our disposal.” You want to engage in an argument, but the guilt and anxiety of disappointing someone with his privileges and status weighs heavily. Nothing remains except for admitting defeat and compliance.
“You’re probably right, the sooner we get this over with, the better.” You don’t know what possesses you, but a wave of boldness floods your senses. You aren’t fully conscious when you open your mouth and the words tumble from your lips before you can do anything to cease the current. “Can we go to your house instead?”
Asano wears a brief look of surprise before it is replaced with a mask of disinterest. “Why?” Is all the situation prompts from him. To be honest, you don’t really know the answer to that question. Maybe it is purely out of curiosity, maybe there is more to it. You shrug your shoulders, awaiting his response. All he does is briefly lift his eyebrows simultaneously, lips a thin line, before his features are dropped back into the mold of detachment. Oddly enough he doesn’t question you any further, nor does he put up a fight.
The pair of you make your way to the nearest bus station where you wait in silence. The quiet is heavy as it covers the atmosphere in a thick blanket. Once the bus arrives you quickly move to take a seat next to the large windows, having something to occupy yourself with along the ride. You halfheartedly express your surprise with a scrunch of your nose as Asano takes the aisle seat next to you. Feeling a bit cornered, you lean your cheek against the cool glass, your breath fogging up the pane and obstructing your view.
You attempt to make conversation, but you don’t get a lot further than answers out of courtesy. How you wish it was acceptable to just plug in your headphones and pay no mind to the stranger of your classmate. The ride is short and unsurprisingly the area you’ve arrived in houses expensive looking mansions. The empty streets give you a feeling of estrangement as you hide from the curious onlookers behind the tall oaks distributed sparsely along the sidewalk.
You liken yourself to a lost puppy, following the redhead around as he fails to inform you of any changes in direction. Straying a few feet behind his character, you carefully keep your eyes glued to his back, afraid of getting lost the minute you blink for too long.
Finally, Asano comes to a halt in front of a large iron gate. There is a keypad and he secretively covers the numbers with the palm of his hand, obscuring the passcode from your view. You listen to the affirmative beep as the gate awakens from slumber. To your astonishment its movement is near to inaudible, oiled to perfection.
The perfection seems to be a theme as you follow the trail that leads through the flawless garden, your feet finding the stylish gray tiles effortlessly, skipping over the seams. Not a single leaf litters the meticulously cut grass, flowers placed at equivalent distance from one another. Although the Asano family might appreciate the impeccably polished panorama, it does not appeal to your senses. If anything it serves to fuel your trepidation.
Asano offers you a drink and when you politely decline he leads you to his room. It is everything you had expected it to be. All of his belongings are neatly organized, trinkets are non-existent. There are no clothes lying around on his recently vacuumed hardwood floor, not even a pile of folded articles. Glancing around the spacious chamber you fail to spot a single packaging indicating unhealthy snacks. Although you had not anticipated a dissimilar sight, you feel disgruntled at the discovery, scoffing in annoyance at not having caught anything to criticize.
“What?” Asano sounds suspicious, squinting his eyes as you pout.
“Your room is too clean,” you conclude. Childishly, you cross your arms over your chest as you do a double take of the room. Asano breathes out through his nose, his laugh reminiscent of mockery. You breathe in. Hell, even the air has a subtly sweet scent to it. It annoys you that you instinctively take another sniff to try and pinpoint aromas.
“What did you expect?” he asks. You don’t know exactly what it is you were looking for. Anything out of order, any type of mess, even a wild sock on the floor would have been sufficient.
“Well, maybe some dirty clothes or some half eaten cookies. There’s not a single empty mug, not even a porn magazine!” You’re exasperated as you uncross your arms to gesture them through the air. “I don’t know, whatever boys keep in their room.” Asano shoots you an incredulous look, almost shocked even. For a second you’re afraid you’ve gone too far, babbling on without thinking about your words.
Averting your eyes to the flawlessly made bed in the corner of his room you lower your arms to entangle your fingers behind your back. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as you wait for the awkward silence to pass the moment.
“You were looking for porn?” Your gaze meets Asano’s unimpressed features, he might be annoyed even. You keep your eyes on his, shrugging your shoulders with a feigned indifference. For a few seconds neither makes a move and you’re left glued to the floor, the air weighing you down immensely as regret settles in deeper and heavier. Finally, Asano turns around, but right before his eyes leave yours you swear you catch a glimpse of his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip in the suppression of a smile.
Undecided on the final verdict, you follow Asano to the desk underneath the brightly lit window. In an unexpectedly chivalrous effort he sits down on a backless stool, leaving the comfortably looking office chair empty for you to take. You grant him a small smile out of courtesy and pull the chair back, the wheels silent as they roll over the floorboards. Plunking down into the chair gives you the same result in decibels, so you make a point of it to drag your backpack along the floor as you reduce the distance between your body and the desk.
An inconspicuous glimpse at your project partner shows you he’s already started flipping through the pages of the Social Studies reader, looking for an adequate hypothesis. You copy him, fishing the reader from your backpack and slamming it onto the desk with force. Asano visibly cringes and gives you a stern look, earning you the tiniest of victories. He glances at your reader and quickly ridicules your way of taking notes, which consists of scribbling doodles all over the pages until they’re barely legible, with a sneering pull of his lip.
Another peek at your neighbor’s reader informs you how well put together Asano is; his text has carefully highlighted sections, comprehensible extensive quotes from the lectures with clear arrows pointing to the corresponding paragraphs and levelled post it notes pasted wherever there was not enough space for his memorandums. You choose not to acknowledge the obvious differences and flip through the pages until you find one that is not as embarrassingly hieroglyphic, busying yourself with the various available subjects.
The two of you work in silence, devising your own set-ups. It doesn’t take long for boredom to cloud your senses and after another half an hour of enduring the quiet, you start to look around for a distraction. In the mood to pester the unfortunate boy on your right you search for something to infuse a spark. “I heard a rumor you’re addicted to sports drinks.”
Asano calmy continues to jot down a sentence in his notebook before straightening his back. He lifts the pen up, taking the cap into his mouth and pulling it from the back of the pen with his teeth. It is only when the pen is secured into the pencil holder on his desk that he shifts his attention to the left. He takes a long look at you, not shy of flitting his eyes over your form, before pulling up one eyebrow and rolling back his chair until it comes to a halt next to the large closet resting against the backwall.
He makes no sound, but reaches for one of the lower drawers. Pulling it open in one swift motion, he reveals about a dozen pair of black sneaker socks. You’re confused as Asano gives you the time to take a good look at the articles of clothing. Then, he bends his back down a little further, hands rummaging around to shove the socks to the side. You’re granted a mere few seconds to feast your eyes upon a couple of neon colored bottles.
Without a word, Asano rearranges the socks to veil the caffeinated drinks and quickly shuts the drawer again. Immediately after he uses his feet to drift back into his prior location. It is almost as if the interaction never happened, just a figment of your imagination. You glance to his backpack that he has placed upright next to the desk and come to the sudden realization the bottle sticking out of the side compartment is not see through.
“Not so perfect after all, huh,” you mumble. The moment the words have left your lips you feel regret bubble up in your stomach. They are hurtful and to be honest you don’t know why you said something so spiteful, it is rather unlike you. Maybe it’s jealousy. It is probably jealousy. You conclude it is definitely jealousy. Awaiting Asano’s reaction you bite your lip, hoping he doesn’t take offense. As expected he rolls his eyes in annoyance and heavy remorse pushes down on your shoulders, he did just show you a more vulnerable side of himself after all.
“I’m sorry,’ you quickly recover, ashamed of yourself. Asano chooses to ignore you, focusing on the project in front of him instead. You don’t blame the guy. “I didn’t actually mean that,” you try again. This time he graces you with a hum, but his eyes are glued to the paper. “I’m just jealous,” you admit, somewhat out of character.
This catches Asano’s attention. He lift his head up to spare you a glance, eyes slightly blown, but his lips are stretched into a thin line. You expect him to turn back around again, or belittle you even, but he doesn’t. Instead he scoffs again. “You really shouldn’t be.”
You’re surprised at his words. “Why not?” You ask him. You have every reason to be jealous, he is intelligent, athletic, handsome, what else could he possibly want? Everyone at schools kisses his ass and if that wasn’t enough being the principal’s son comes with some perks in biased judgment from students and teachers alike. However, Asano just shrugs his shoulders. It is clear he prefers to avoid the subject, but you’re feeling argumentative today. “Why not?” You prompt again.
“You wouldn’t understand.” His voice is raw, there is an unspoken melancholy which you don’t feel certified enough for to pry into. Yet you do, carelessly dancing on Asano’s toes. You repeat your question once more, almost cocky this this. At this point it is less of a personal interest, but more alike to a game. Unfortunately, Asano is not as invested a player as you are.
“Are you dumb?” he manages to control his anger, but his nails treacherously press crescent moons into his palms. “I don’t want to talk about it.” That’s that, the confirmation you were waiting for; at the same time a breaking point. You’re usually not one to cross that line, but today you’re rather tempted.
Although intrigued, you swallow down any burning questions that bubble up in the back of your throat. You want to discover more of this imperfectly impatient side of his, but apparently bothering him into desperation is the only way. “But I do,” you quietly seize the last word before you continue to work in silence.
You manage half an hour before the majority of your time is spent drawing little characters into the margin of the reader. Coming to the realization there is no point in spending time together if you’re not going to discuss anything regarding the project you lean back into the chair, the motion causing it to stray from the desk. “You know, Asano,” you start, looking for a new way to get his attention, “every little imperfection is just another star in the sky.”
You don’t know why you say it, as you’ve noticed happening on multiple occasions throughout the day. Maybe this is just the effect the redhead has on you; causing you to ramble incoherent thoughts out loud. At your statement Asano laughs. It is not a scoff nor a snigger, no, it is a full on out loud laugh. The sound rumbles deeply from within the confines of his chest, reverberating around the room as the sound is cast into the open space. He even goes as far as tilting his head back. You stare at him until he’s done, dumbfounded.
“I didn’t know you were such a dreamer.” He says. There is no malice to his voice, no dubious intent, just a simple statement.
“I’m not,” you say. You are though, you just want to see his reaction. “I’m an insomniac. Once you spend hours and hours looking at the start their beauty starts to fade.” Another lie, the stars continue to astound you, you’d go as far as calling it an obsession, yet you continue your fabrications. “They remind me of how little time I have left before I have to get up again.” You do it to yourself though, staying up way past a healthy bedtime, but you could never give up marveling at the beauty of the night sky.
“Then why did you compare my imperfections to the stars?” Asano inquires. It is a good question, once more you’re unsure of the answer. Maybe it was to relieve yourself of some of the guilt weighing on your back from your previous disastrous conversation. Yet you continue to want to push him over the edge.
“It wasn’t a compliment. Just because everyone says your flaws make you who you are doesn’t mean you are less flawed.” You hope he finds it harsh.
“Oh.” Asano’s reply is indifferent, but the slightest of disappointed wavers breaks his voice. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The pang in your chest tugs at your conscience, but it brings a certain intensity of satisfaction simultaneously.
“But without flaws you’d be really boring.” You add as an afterthought. Apparently you succumb to culpability at the flick of a wrist, but it is as close to a compliment as he’s going to get from you. After all, boasting his impossibly large ego is not exactly on your itinerary.
“Right.” Asano hums.
“Right.” You echo.
It is quiet again. You’re tired of wasting time and your joints ache, screaming for you to stand up, so you do. Placing your feet steadily onto the ground, you push up with your arms, the chair finally giving that long awaited squeak due to the sudden shift in weight. You push the chair until it comes into contact with the desk, careless in your actions. The momentum of the collision has Asano raise his shoulders in surprise and he quickly spins his chair around to scowl at you.
Once you have his attention you bend down, keeping your legs straight as you touch the tips of your fingers to the wooden floorboards. You don’t bother to raise your head, you can feel Asano’s eyes boring into your skull as you stretch. When you straighten your back, your shoulder gives a satisfying pop. Slowly you raise your arms to the sky, pulling them far enough that a sliver of your abdomen is exposed to the cool air and consequently to Asano’s eyes. You trail your gaze back to his, but his eyes leave yours in favor of shameless roaming over your figure.
Getting a surge of energy to rush from your toes to the tips of your fingers at the unexpected attention, you rest your head to the side, leaning into a certain sensuality. “I think I’m done for today,” you announce, suddenly no more shame in your laziness. Asano doesn’t grant a verbal reply, but the corner of his mouth curls up in intrigue.
It is at this point you come to a sudden realization. This whole ordeal is as much a game to him as it is to you, although he is not as active a participant. He is a thinker, the gears in his head turning at a consistent pace, which means you’ve lost some of the advantage you had over him earlier. You glance around the room as inconspicuously as possible for anything to exaggerate the situation, you’re ready to push all of his buttons.
From the corner of your eye you spot his perfectly made bed, ready for ruin. Maintaining eye contact with Asano you slowly tread backwards, step by step, until the backs of your knees hit the frame. You let your weight pull you down as you fall backwards, arms spread out to deepen the impact.
You come into contact with the bed, a dull thud echoing throughout the room. The mattress is sturdier than you had expected and you jolt up slightly before coming back down to rest on the soft blanket. At the newfound discovery you lift your head again and let it fall softly. The pillow is plush and absorbs the collision. At the turn of your head you discover Asano studying you intently. His curiosity has piqued.
You arch your back ever so slightly, reveling in this new found game of boundaries, watching for a change in his demeanor. To your astoundment he doesn’t relent from his position at the desk. Nothing happens and for a minute neither of you move, anticipating the other’s breaking of the stalemate you’ve unwillingly entered.
Suddenly Asano arises from his seat, the chair scraping over the floor as his weight is not yet fully alleviated. He stalks closer, the almost predatory way his narrow eyes are glued to your body sending a surge of electricity up your spine. This is working out far differently from what you had expected, as unsure as you are of your own intentions.
There is a bit of space right next to your hip and Asano doesn’t hesitate to occupy it with his knee. You presume him to move over you, but he stays seated at your side, leaning his weight on the leg slightly pressed against your thigh. His position allows him to look down at you and after having taking in the sight from his new perspective he leans closer.
“Do you hate me?” he asks.
“Hate is a strong word.” You swallow thickly. Suddenly you wish you had taken him up on his proposal when he offered you a glass of water downstairs.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” His expression is almost empty, save for the slightly cocky smile threatening to crack at the corners of his mouth. You look away for a second, letting your gaze flit over the gray blouse he dons. You count the buttons before you dare to meet his eyes again.
“I don’t hate you.” It is easier to admit that you had originally anticipated. “I thought I disliked you at first, but now I think it’s just jealousy.”
“Jealous, huh.” There’s a pensive afterthought accompanied by a small smile on his face. Although he remains calm there is something wicked to the air he carries. You hum, unwilling to embarrass yourself by admitting to your sins even more. While you ponder your confession one of Asano’s hands comes to rest atop your shoulder. It’s weight is insignificant, but it’s unspoken command far heavier. A ‘stay down’.
The heat burns directly through the thin shirt you’re wearing, searing your skin. If you didn’t know the basics of physics and biology you would have sworn he burned a mark straight into your flesh. Suddenly you feel cornered, having finally lost the upper hand. You don’t feel like playing this game anymore.
Pulling your lips into a thin line, you attempt to sit up. You don’t get very far as the hand on your shoulder tightens it’s grip, fingers digging into your skin as Asano presses you back down. Once your back is flush against the blanket he removes his hand. It is not necessary to voice the meaning behind his conduct.
You could sit up if you wanted to, nothing to physically restrain you anymore. Asano is just sitting there at your side, waiting for you to make a move. You don’t do anything except for staring up at his face. He is handsome, you remark. Tall in stature, a boyishness to his face, but the intensity of his stare holds you captive in stark contrast. You stay down, indulging in his play, but you don’t insinuate anything either.
“So you don’t hate me.” Asano concludes. Again, you hum in confirmation. This time, however, it is because you’re unsure what kind of response you’ll invite if you voice an answer.
“Prove it.” He commands. You hadn’t thought this far ahead.
“What if I don’t want to?” You challenge him halfheartedly. At his point you’re just stalling. You have no idea how far you can go, how much either of you can take. Now that Asano is threatening to overthrow your position of power you don’t know if you even want to go there. When you were in control it was fun to see his emotions play out, to spark a reaction. However, the minute it is you in that position you feel jeopardized.
“Then you can just get up, right?” There is a certain sadism to his words and the feigned warmth of his tone sends chills down your spine. He is right. You could get up, get away from Asano and forget today even happened. A part of you still finds him irksome, too perfect for your liking. He gets on your nerves, but he is too close and your judgment is clouded. He is handsome, his warmth is inviting and he is so close to swinging his leg over you and getting on top of you. If, or rather when that happens you’re certainly done for. He’s playing a dangerous game; making it seem like you have a choice, although both of you know it’s not in your nature to back down at a point like this.
You could do it, just to surprise him, but would the shock be worth this rare opportunity? You can smell his breath, hot on your cheeks. It is sweet, no doubt from one of his sugary drinks, and dizzying. Asano has certainly been the object of your desire before. He’s good looking and that whole antagonistic rivalry, which is definitely one sided as Asano does not count you a threat, is exciting in a way. It’s not as if you think about him often, but he’s crossed your mind before. You’ve wondered what it would feel like to curl your fingers into his hair, to feel his lips press against the hollow of your throat hungrily, moving lower and lower. Asano is the kind of name you’d mindlessly pronounce in an exasperated breath as his hips stutter into yours.
Maybe he thinks you’re a coward. Maybe he thinks you’ll be too embarrassed and back down at the last possible moment. But you don’t. You reach a hand up to the collar of his shirt. You don’t even need to pull, he insists. He leans forward, but you slide your hand down just slightly, having some leverage on his chest. He halts in his movements and gives you a curious look. Feeling a rush of confidence flow through your mind you take back some of the control, letting him slowly lower his body into yours at a pace of your choosing.
Asano growls in irritation at the restriction, some of the playfulness lost as he gives into his desires. His hand reaches down, long fingers curling around your wrist as he finally swings his leg over your body, your thighs trapped between his strong calves. The unfamiliar weight of his body is enticing and to your own surprise you lean into his touch. He brings your wrist to his mouth, breath ghosting over the delicate skin before he connects it to his lips.
He leaves an openmouthed kiss on the surface of your palm, eyes lidded as he stares down, awaiting your reaction. You swallow thickly, head filled to the brim with swirling emotions as your senses are invaded with everything Asano. His scent, his smell, he is all you can focus on. Regaining control over your body to some extent, you reach your free hand up to tangle your digits into the strawberry blond tresses, strands curling around your fingers as you pull him down by the back of his head.
Asano ducks down, letting you lead him until his mouth fits against yours. At the contact you sigh deeply, molding your lips against his own. As he licks into your mouth he brings your encased wrist up to your head, his free hand coming to cup your fiery cheek, angling your face. The tips of his fingers dance down your throat, briefly closing over the skin to gently squeeze your neck, the shortness of breath dizzying until sparks explode in your vision. The scalding digits journey downwards, trailing along your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts to your sternum.
As he reaches the upper planes of your stomach you can’t help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. You arch your back involuntarily, trapping Asano’s hand between your bodies. Breaking the kiss he tilts his head upwards, a sly smile stretching over his features as his hand ventures lower. Grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt he pulls it free from the confines of your skirt’s waistband. His fingers sneak underneath the clothing, the feeling of his short nails dragging up your skin causes the muscles of your abdomen to contract.
The redhead takes his time tracing illegible shapes on your soft belly before bunching up the fabric of your shirt, hands ghosting over your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor. Immediately goosebumps race over your exposed flesh and you breathe shakily. “Kiss me again,” you demand.
Humoring your request, Asano wastes no time in connecting your lips. Your tongue trails over his bottom lip feverishly, your right hand reaching up to the collar of his blouse. Unsteadily you pull the upper button from it’s confines. Working your way downwards you manage to undo all five of the buttons, the blouse falling open, revealing the milky white planes of his chest and abdomen. Placing your fingertips at the top of his chest, you drag them downwards, scratching angry red lines into the unmarred skin.
At the feeling of your cold fingers Asano shudders, a low groan emitting from his throat as he leans up, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His belt now in your grasp, you fumble with the buckle, but before you can successfully pull it loose his strong grip wraps around your wrist once more. His strength is unforgiving and you whimper slightly at the unpleasant pressure.
Frustrated at the interruption, you chase him up, face pressing into the crook of his neck. You nip his collarbone experimentally and immediately Asano lowers his weight, rendering you immobile. His other hand searches for your free hand, capturing it and bringing both wrists together above your head. You let out a whine of desperation and he chuckles darkly, tutting at your behavior.
“I think I’ve let you have enough control for today.” His tone is unrelenting as he ruthlessly tightens the grip on your wrists, giving them a squeeze before transferring them into one of his large palms. Empty digits work to pull the tie from his neck and it doesn’t take long to realize its purpose. You start to squirm, uneasiness creeping into your mind at the thought of being at his mercy. Your breathing is ragged as arousal and fear fight for control over your body.
For a moment Asano stills, granting you a lazy grin. Then he bends down, tongue trailing up your throat to the bottom of your jawline. “Are you going to back down?” He inquires, hinting at your permission, although it is almost mocking. There is a cocky expression on his face as he revels in your discomfort, but his hold on your arms temporarily loosens enough for you to push him off if you wanted to. You stop moving around, laying motionlessly as you contemplate your options. This is your way out, a last chance before you commit fully.
“Never.” your voice is raspy and you curse yourself for it. Above you Asano’s grin widens as he brings the tie up to your hands. His eyes are focused on the irregular rise and fall of your chest, trailing up to the stubborn blush adorning your cheeks and finally coming to rest on your hands lying slack in his grasp. Hot puffs of air escape your parted lips as you submit. The fabric is wound around your wrists expertly, the knots just short of restricting blood circulation. Unexpectedly, Asano jerks the tie upwards, your hands following behind until your arms are stretched far above you. He secures the tie to the metal bars of his headboard while you watch intently.
When he’s finished he places his hands on your hips and pulls your body as far down his bed as the binding allows. He crawls his way back up your body, face hovering directly above yours as he supports his weight, effectively caging you in. You give your bonds an experimental tug and discover you are rendered immobile. Your heart pounds in your chest and you pray you haven’t misjudged his intentions.
Gaze flitting up to meet Asano’s you trail your tongue along the seam of your lips. “I like this submissive side of you,” he says, “it is a good look on you.” His stare is predatory as his scorching digits trail around your side, reaching for the clasp of your bra. Now having both of his hands to roam freely around your body, his other hand worms its way underneath the small of your back, lifting you up just enough to undo the troublesome piece of lingerie. Once the clasps come undone Asano pulls the fabric upwards, your breasts spilling from the soft cups as the bra is pulled along your arms, coming to fall motionlessly at your bound wrists.
Feeling horribly exposed you avert your gaze, focusing your eyes on the wallpaper as your cheeks burn pink. “Time for you to pay me back,” a deep voice rumbles close to your ear. A small gasp is elicited from your throat as Asano rudely pries your thighs apart with his knee, repositioning himself so he rests between your legs.
Your eyes are torn from the wall to meet the redhead’s in shock, his hands cupping the supple flesh of your thighs as he pulls them around his waist. He lowers his weight into you and groans unashamedly as his hips stumble into yours, his hard on pressing in between your legs. A wave of arousal crashes into you and you instinctively tighten your hold around him. “Seeing as you entertained yourself at my expense all day, I think it is only fair for me to have some fun with you, don’t you agree?”
The more you lose control over the situation, the more riled up Asano gets. Not trusting your voice you nod your head in agreement, ready to take whatever he gives you. Lifting one of his eyebrows in condescension he drags his nails over your ribs, slowing down to catch your nipple between his thumb and index finger. Suddenly he pinches the sensitive nub and you yelp in pain. “Use your words.” He demands, his voice cold as ice.
Your breath stutters in your throat and ultimately you manage to stammer out a ‘yes.’ Releasing his vicelike grip on your nerves you sigh as the pain is reduced to a dull throb. “Good girl.” Asano compliments and you feel another wave of arousal drown your senses. The redhead lowers his head to your chest, soothing his tongue over your nipple as a moan escapes your lips. At the sound his hips thrust harshly into yours and the moan quickly increases in volume as a scream is ripped from your throat.
“A-ah, Asano!” instinctively you try to reach out to grab onto his shoulders for support, but the tie bites into your delicate wrists. You’re certain there are going to be angry bruises littering your body once Asano is through with you. His lips connect to your abdomen and he starts to leave a trail of hickeys and love bites, going lower and lower. Moan after groan bubbles up in the back of your throat and you bite your lip in a lackadaisical attempt to suppress the sounds.
Asano uses his tongue to trail a wet circle around your bellybutton before kissing the skin just above the waistband of your skirt. Hooking his index fingers into the elastic he pulls the fabric over the curvature of your ass. You lift your hips into the air, assisting him in stripping you down to your underwear. More goosebumps arise as the redhead licks his lips at the sight of your almost naked body.
Losing the skirt on the wooden floorboards next to his bed he takes the opportunity to rid himself of his open blouse, fingers expertly unbuckle his belt and he steps out of his jeans. Your eyes widen at the strain of his erection against the black material of his boxers. As you watch he slides the underwear down his legs until they pool at his ankle. He steps out of the fabric, kicking it to the side. His cock stands tall and you gulp at the sight, Asano’s eyes are immediately pulled to focus on your throat. He resumes his position on top of you, growling at the friction as you clamp your legs around his waist once more.
Asano’s chest presses into your own, your breasts flattened against his hot skin as he grinds into you at an enthusiastic pace. A growl leaves his mouth and he buries his face in your shoulder, teeth nipping at the skin. He starts out gently, but as his hips stutter into yours more irregularly his teeth clamp down harshly. A strangled moan tumbles from your lips as the pain only adds to the excitement throbbing between your legs.
Spurred on by your sounds Asano wraps a hand around your throat, the grip gentle, but the added pressure causing you to see stars. “Harder!” You breathe mindlessly and nimble digits close themselves tighter around your throat. Colors flash in front of your eyes when a thumb presses itself to your clit, rubbing in circular motions. Your legs convulse and you feel the slickness between your thighs.
Your heart beats in your throat as the sensations overwhelm you, you’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen and you see sparks every time Asano’s fingers expertly move between your legs. The hand around your throat gives one more squeeze before it retreats entirely. “Would you look at that,” Asano scoffs, “I was going to take revenge, but you’re such a masochist, begging me to hurt you. What am I supposed to do now?”
As his low voice trails off, the fingers on your clit leave to pull your panties aside. The air is cold, but your body is burning and you welcome any sensation. Asano’s fingers ghost over your lips before he finally drags the digits through your slick. Your hips jerk at the contact and you’re once again reminded of the strain on your wrists.
“Asano…” you breathe out. “Let me touch you too!” Your voice is desperate. You want to run your fingers through his red tresses, pulling on the locks until his mouth clashes with yours. You want to scrape your nails down his back, leaving angry red traces along the smooth skin.
“I don’t think so.” Asano teases with a smile. His finger continues to trail over your slit, a string of your slick sticking to his fingers as he pulls back.
“Kiss me, please!” At your plea the redhead bends down and catches the supple skin of your hips between his teeth, biting down to form an irritated red welt.
“You don’t call the shots here, darling. Now, be a good girl and let me have my way with you.” His authority sends shivers down your spine as Asano takes his cock into his hand, guiding it to your entrance. You can feel the tip press in between your legs and a high-pitched whine escapes you. Your fingernails press shapes into your palms as he pushes in, sinking deeper with a guttural groan until he finally bottoms out.
You hadn’t felt empty before, but now you’re overwhelmingly full. Asano stretches your walls as your body tries to accompany his. A thin veil of sweat covers your body and you breathe shakily. “Fuck, that feels good!” Asano exclaims, his eyes lidded in pleasure.
Then he suddenly pulls back and jerks his hips forward, catching you by surprise as your whole body is shoved upwards by the abrupt movement. His pace is rough and unforgiving as he slams his hips into yours, eliciting a yelp from you. His hands have a bruising grip on your skin and the thought of his fingertips marked permanently onto your body causes your pussy to clench around his dick.
Asano bends down, face burrowed into the crook of your shoulder as every piston of his hips has his deep voice grunting in your ears. His hot tongue darts out of his mouth to suck and lick up your neck, teeth scraping along the tender flesh at the roughness of his thrusts. “Hah!” The bedframe creaks at the movement.
The pace is unrelenting and you can’t do anything but feel ecstatic at the way Asano is handling your body, a coil starting to tighten in your stomach. The rope around your wrist scathes your skin and you whimper at the sensation. Finally, Asano takes pity on you, slowing the momentum of his thrusts and trailing one hand along your body to encase your bound arms.
His tongue traces up your neck and over you jaw to slip between your parted lips. His mouth covers yours and he kisses you as if he’s trying to steal your breath. One tug to the right cord of the knot has the rope come undone and finally you reach your hands down. Everything tingles as the blood rushes through your wrists, but you don’t care as you finally curl your fingers into Asano’s soft mane.
Just as you’ve taken ahold of him, he sits up, your fingers slipping from the tresses. The redhead pulls out from your body and you’re left staring up into his narrowed eyes in confusion. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as his hands come to squeeze at your hipbones. He roughly ragdolls you around until you’re resting on your arms and knees. Hands pull your hips unforgivingly backwards to meet Asano’s groin as he slams back inside of you.
He’s immediately back to his harsh pace as he rocks the two of you back and forth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, stuttering out short-breathed high-pitched moans. His hands reach for your wrists, maneuvering them so he can hold them behind your back in a vice like grip with one of his own. Your chest is pressed into the mattress, your cheek soft against the blanket as you’re left to Asano’s mercy.
His free hand trails from your back to your abdomen, goosebumps following the trail as his digits find your clit. He rolls the bud between his thumb and index finger and a storm of color spikes behind your closed eyelids. “Ah, don’t stop, don’t stop!” You cry, rambling incoherent thoughts as you lose control of your words.
Your wrists burn, your body is violently jerking as Asano’s hips slam against your ass and your throat is sore from screaming, yet you don’t care. All you can focus on is the heat in your stomach tightening, you feel stars filling up your head and you pull back your hips to meet Asano’s as far as his grip allows you.
The redhead groans, leaning down to trace his tongue along your spine. He stops at the spot in between your shoulder blades, sucking on the skin to litter even more purple blooms across the plane of your back. The pressure on your clit, the friction between your legs, the hot mouth on your back, it is all too much. You can’t hold it anymore, you feel like you’re going to burst.
The volume of your voice is uncontrolled as you scream Asano’s name, finally coming undone. Sparks flash across your vision and you feel a little bit of drool leaking out from your mouth. Asano fucks you through your orgasm, not caring to slow his pace, moaning at the way your walls clench around him in your convulsions. When you come down your high the sensation of overstimulation hits in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
“A-Asano,” you whine as his thrusts become irregular.
“Hold on, baby, almost there!” His voice is breathless as the grip on your wrist loosens. His hands grab onto the supple meat of your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as his pace stutters. A few more harsh thrusts and finally he stills, the sound of his primal groan is muffled by the skin of your back. Hot spurts of his seed are pumped into your body and you bite your lip at the feeling, thanking your lucky stars you’re on birth control.
Asano is motionless for a few more seconds before he finally pulls out from between your legs. He removes himself from behind you and crashes down onto the soft covers of his bed. You finally drop to your stomach, not having the strength to hold yourself up any longer without Asano to support you. Both of you lay there is silence for a moment, catching your breath.
A hand ghosts over your back and you feel warm digits gently trace the purple bruises littering your skin. “I think I might have gone a little bit overboard…” His words are met with a tired chuckle.
“Really? I’ve never known you to be like that.” Your voice drips with sarcasm, but you don’t have the energy to fight the smile creeping onto your face. Asano catches on and flashes you a soft smile of his own that sends your heart fluttering.
“I’m joking, you know.” You quickly add. “I like this side of you, with more emotions and less robot. I find you slightly less annoying now.” Asano chuckles audibly, his hand comes to rest slung over your waist.
“Maybe next time I can even persuade you to call me by my first name.”
“Already making plans for a next time?” you hum amusedly.
“Hmm, and if you’re nice I might even let you touch me too.”
“How kind of you…” This is different. Up until now every little argument the two of you have had was full of snide comments and malice, but this is just playful banter. Asano’s eyes are kind as his breath falls onto your face softly.
“But for now, how about a hot bath?”
“That sounds perfect!”