Agrippa
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Self Insert of the Dead – Chapter 5 – Shounen Style Training Should Always Have Fanservice
🕑 Added 2022-05-18 22:50:45 +0000 UTCWaking up is… weird.
I am Lee, I know I am, but my mind is muddled, and that… that kind of springy tension I feel separating Takashi and I is relaxed, and so I can feel the shape of his thoughts through it, prodding at my own, molding them and being molded in turn. A part of me knows that this barrier doesn’t even exist, that it’s something we both make up and reinforce when we’re aware of each other, and…
And we aren’t aware of that much while dreaming.
‘It’s too early for this.’
Agreed. I don’t even know why we’re… awake…
Huh.
Saeko’s leaning over me.
Her hair is gathered in a ponytail, falling over her left shoulder, and her eyes blue eyes are peering down at me curiously, with her head tilting slightly right before her almost pouty lips turn into a small yet mischievous smile.
…
Am I in Heaven?
‘I can feel Rei lying on our side, so… maybe you’re about to be?’
Shit.
Turning to my right, I can indeed see that Rei and Takashi fell asleep on the couch after sharing their disgustingly vanilla first time—
‘Hey!’
I’m jealous, let me bitch in peace.
‘At least you had that time in your car—’
Dude, I’m half-naked next to your very naked girlfriend. At least try not to exacerbate my morning wood.
‘You’re right. That’s Saeko’s job.’
I despise you.
Also, she’s now cradling my cheek and leaning down, her plump lips approaching me in a—
“Get ready; training starts in five minutes,” she whispers.
…
Fuck.
***
Extricating myself out of Rei’s clinginess is far easier than I thought it would be, likely because the girl must still be both mentally and emotionally exhausted after everything she went through yesterday.
No, I’m not talking from personal experience. I don’t know why you’re asking.
‘I wasn’t ask—’
You’re a prick. You’re a smug prick. You’re getting too big a head just because a gorgeous girl confessed to you before sucking your dick right before another sex-on-legs girl gave you her first time.
‘Gee, I wonder how those things may impact my ego.’
I don’t. It’s just turned you into a prick.
‘How was that song you liked so much? Doesn’t matter, had sex?’
I Just Had Sex, by The Lonely Island—and stop singing in my head; it’s annoying.
‘You’re a hypocrite.’
Only when it suits me. That’s what being a hypocrite is all about, you know?
‘… I feel like this is a quote. And a dreadful one.’
Something I read once. It had smut on it, so it stuck.
‘Of course it did…’
Hey, I know what I’m about. Speaking of, I can hear Saeko rummaging around the kitchen, so I’m about to get my first glimpse at the legendary apron in all its uncensored glory, so, if you don’t mind…
‘Go right ahead. I feel like taking a nap.’
… You don’t know how weirded out I am that that’s suddenly an option. Well, doesn’t matter, I just need to slowly walk toward the sound of food being shuffled around in the fridge and…
And Saeko is looking inside it, leaning forward.
Wearing a white, short-sleeved blouse and a short black skirt.
… I hate this reality with my very being.
All right, not a big deal; I know the… ‘author’ doesn’t feel like the right word. The transcriber? Yeah, let’s go with that—I know that the transcriber must’ve taken some liberties when trying to sell the story, and Saeko suddenly being OK with wearing a porntastic outfit must’ve been one of them. It just had to be one of the things that stuck the most with me, damn it…
“Lee? What’s wrong?” she asks as she turns around, holding an apple in her hand, the light of the open fridge highlighting her silhouette.
I definitely shouldn’t answer ‘The lack of fetish gear.’
“Nothing! Just… still a bit groggy—wait a second, how did you know it was me?”
And now that impish smile from before comes back as she tucks her chin almost bashfully.
“I called you,” she says, and something beats in my chest at both the words and the tone she tells them in.
Which, somehow, turns into me standing in frozen shock at the entrance to the kitchen until a cold apple smacks my forehead, and I fumble to catch it before it falls to the floor.
“Grab your bat and start eating that. We’re going out,” she says once I finally stop smacking the apple and manage to actually hold it.
I don’t ask whether I can at least go to the bathroom because I fear she’ll say no.
‘You’re whipped.’
Go back to your nap.
***
Yesterday, we were pretty thorough in clearing our street off zombies.
Today… We don’t have to walk that far to see a group big enough for what Saeko has in mind.
“You never had any training with weapons, did you?” she asks, almost carelessly and with a tone that’s just low enough not to attract the dozen or so zombies huddled together at the closest intersection.
“Is it that obvious? Some martial arts thing about how I walk?”
“Takashi fought in your stead, and he obviously hasn’t had training,” she simply answers, casually breaking yet another of my fantasies. Apparently, my disappointment must show, because she shrugs. “I haven’t seen you in control that long, but I’d say… Some informal training with empty hand techniques? You are a bit uncoordinated, but your balance isn’t bad.”
“Ah… That’s mostly from boxing in VR, I guess? I tried to pick up some proper technique each time I played.” Good going, Lee; tell the gorgeous girl who’s a martial arts prodigy about your nerdy VR boxing. You go, you smooth talker, you.
She quirks an eyebrow, likely wondering what the Hell I am talking about before she cutely giggles, covering her mouth with the middle of her pointer finger.
…
‘Stop staring.’
Make me.
“The future sounds like it would’ve been interesting,” she says as she walks to me, her bokken held in a relaxed grasp with her right hand. “I’d like you to tell me more another time.”
“I… sure! I mean, I… there are zombies literally around the corner, and I’m making a fool out of myself, aren’t I?” I answer in a chagrined tone as I rub the back of my head with the hand not holding an impromptu weapon.
“Just a smidge,” she says with an amused tone that… Oh God, this is the school dance all over again. Slightly less violent, though. “Now, grasp your weapon with both hands.”
I swallow my bout of nerves and do as she tells me, trying to imitate what little I remember from watching about two minutes of kendo on youtube back when I thought it wouldn’t be boring as Hell.
“Not quite; you’re gripping it too tightly. It’s said that a sword is like a songbird: grasp it too loosely, and it will set flight; too firm, and it will choke. You want your pinky fingers to be tight and strong, and each subsequent finger will be looser until the pointers and thumbs are barely touching the handle. Yes, better. Now, as to the alignment, try to shift your hold as if you were squeezing a wet rag…”
“What?”
“A wet rag? Twist it as if to squeeze the water out.”
“I…” I don’t want to contradict Saeko, but she’s making no sense. You hold a rag with your fists in front of you, parallel to the ground, and then twist—
‘Let me.’
Takashi briefly takes control of our arms, and then he rolls our wrists inward while keeping them aligned on the bat’s handle as I get a mental image of water dripping down in a broken stream from wet cloth… Huh. Of all the things Japanese people do differently, I never thought that would be one of them.
Saeko nods at the result and then grabs my right forearm, nudging it slightly outward.
“Better. You want the space between your pointer and thumb to be aligned in both hands so that the strength in your arms flows along the same line. Otherwise, you’re fighting yourself with each movement.”
I nod. I get the notion, even if I don’t quite feel it yet.
“Very well. As to your feet… Take your boxing stance.”
I am mindful of my arms, trying to remember the proper strength for each finger as she has told me, and shift my right leg—
“Are you left-handed?” she asks.
“No, right-handed—”
“Then lead with that foot.”
I nod and shuffle things around. It makes sense—when boxing, you usually have your stronger hand in the rear, but here I am grabbing the bat with my right hand above the left, which means it’s forward. So—
“Good. The leading foot points forward, the back foot at an angle. Separate them slightly more—you don’t want your heels to crash if you take a sudden step backward.”
Right. Right, that isn’t usually a concern, with how little you move around in VR, but kendo—no, kenjutsu. Her father taught her too many things that you wouldn’t see in a kendo match. So, kenjutsu.
“Take a swing.”
I try to remember all those times I watched the stereotypical kendoka du jour (bonus points if named ‘Blue Thunder’) lift his sword and slam it down. It looks easy, straightforward, but…
“Almost there. Look at how I do it, Lee. First, slow, then, fast.”
And I look.
She’s… I saw her yesterday, a blur of action unerringly striking at one monster after another, never stopping in a flow of motion that had more of wind than water. But she was too fast, too quick for me to grasp anything beyond a vague impression of beautiful violence.
And now…
She takes the same stance I do, knees bent and back straight, and she raises her arms until her bokken is above her head, pointing back, her face framed by bent arms. Her pointer fingers aren’t wrapped around the handle, but pointing forward, in the same direction the edge of the weapon faces.
And then she slowly pushes off her back foot, sliding forward as her arms trace a steady, perfect arc in front of her that ends up with the wooden sword almost parallel to the ground, the handle nearly as low as her hips.
Then she goes back to her guard before blurring through the same movement, the air being audibly cut at the end of it.
“Pull the pommel back toward your hara at the end of the strike,” she points out as if she hasn’t just shown me how far from mastery I am.
“Why?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
She turns to the right, to face me once again, and a brief frown appears on her face.
“That’s a complex question. One answer is that it’s a way to make sure the trajectory of the strike follows your middle line, so your strength won’t be wasted on course correction. Edge alignment is very important in bladed weapons, and this is about the easiest way to ensure beginners learn proper form.”
“That’s one answer.”
She nods.
“Yes. Another is that, by turning the strike into an arc, you draw the blade along the wound, ensuring a cut rather than a slash.”
“There’s a third one,” I tell her, not even knowing why I’m pushing this.
And she smiles.
She takes two steps forward, and her warm right hand is lying on the middle of my chest, her blue eyes once more on mine.
“The hara is the center of the body. It broadly equates with the center of gravity, about two fingers below your navel and one behind it. It’s where your breathing should come from, where your every movement should originate, where your thoughts should sit when not roused. It’s where the sea of ki manifests in the body.”
Her hand is very warm.
“So I should… align my attack with it? Let the energy flow? Go back to it to center myself? What?”
She smiles, softly and mysteriously, and my heart keeps beating harder and harder beneath her burning touch.
“I don’t know, Lee. I’ve learned the sword since I could walk, trained each and every day, engraving the correct forms in my mind and body. My energy flows along the engraving, fills in a shape empty of thought and doubt. Yours… It’s unfocused, drifting, shifting at your every whim and thought, your every erratic change in attention.”
I don’t breathe. I can’t. I just listen to her voice, to the mesmerizing cadence of a beautiful woman talking about the mastery of something I always thought an unreachable fantasy.
And her hand warms further.
“I can feel it, you know?” she says, tilting her head, her hair barely rustling in the cool breeze of a morning that still smells like dawn and night. “The way it reaches out for me whenever you look at me. It’s almost distracting, even if… I like it, Lee. I like the way your spirit reaches out to me.”
I can’t.
“I have no right,” I manage to mutter, the words like stones pushed up my throat.
“What is it that you can’t do, Lee?” she says. And her hand is soft, tender, barely there.
Except it’s a torch, a beacon, and it feels like a boulder pressing down on my chest, my lungs.
“This… This. I have no right. You… you were supposed to spend a night alone with Takashi, in a temple. You would have bared your soul to him, told him about that... about that thing you’re ashamed of. And he would’ve soothed your fears, helped you accept yourself, helped you survive and fight. I…”
She kisses me.
Barely, just leaning forward and up, just brushing my lips with hers, leaving nothing but a persistent tingling and the trace of a taste that is soft and reminds me of white cocoa, and—
And she blurs from in front of me right before I feel a hard push on my back that forces me to stumble forward, my bat falling from nerveless fingers and clattering to the asphalt below, starting to roll down toward the zombies who are now suddenly focused on the noise I just made.
“Defeat them,” Saeko orders me.
Shit.
I scramble for my bat, quickly trying to replicate the stance Saeko showed me—
“Don’t have Takashi help you!” she yells.
“What?!”
“You helped him yesterday, speaking of what you saw through his eyes. Don’t do this now. Defeat them alone.”
Ah, right. She’s a crazy bitch; I had forgotten about that.
‘All yours, pal.’
I’ll have my vengeance, you damn riajuu.
Unless we get torn to shreds in the next few minutes, I mean.
The zombies approach in a slow shuffle, but the one at the head of the group stumbles forward, and I take the chance to run up and slide into that overhead strike Saeko just taught me, all the weight of my arms focused on the downward arc. I don’t remember to pull back the handle toward my ‘hara’ at the end, but I still manage to crack the head of the former salaryman open, and it falls down, tangling the ones following after it, but not impeding the ones at the sides.
Which means I just made the zombies advance toward me in a pincer movement. Great.
I slide back into my guard by retracting my left leg, opening the distance before taking a few steps back. I would like to say it’s a tactical decision, just taking advantage of my superior mobility to look for an advantageous position.
It isn’t.
It’s… not quite fear. I think my mind’s too busy with all the little things, with trying to focus on the proper pressure of each finger every time I notice my white-knuckled, trembling grip, trying to breathe deeply into my abdomen, hoping for a surge of ki or whatever I’m supposed to feel when my life’s in danger and I have a hidden power source to pull from.
I’m not quite afraid, but I feel cold sweat on my brow, I feel my mind rushing through Takashi’s memories of first fighting them, of first finding the drive to survive, to push past the horde of the hungry dead. And my eyes roam each graying, indistinct face in front of me.
Most aren’t even visibly injured, just… people going along their days right as the world became a living Hell.
To my left and in front of me, a housewife with an empty, torn cloth bag hanging from her left arm suddenly claws at the air and rushes toward me, almost falling down with the violent change in speed. And I slide to the left so I can face her at an angle, the strike with the bat not the one Saeko taught me, but a low, sweeping one at her knee. The bone crunches, and the joint snaps, the zombie falling down and crawling to me before the ones behind her trip up on her.
Three. Three bodies writhe on the floor in front of me, trying to drag themselves toward me. To kill me. To devour me.
Saeko’s strike is meant for standing opponents, for those who are fighting back.
I don’t let them.
Three times my arms feel it, the wet crunching of bone falling apart and crushing what lies beneath.
And the horde thins.
I can do this.
I take another deep breath, trying once again to rouse… The Heat, I guess, but I don’t feel anything, don’t feel—
That’s wrong.
I turn to my right, my bat blurring in a sideway motion born from my hips that catches a high school student wearing a uniform I don’t recognize on his temple, crushing it and sending him spiraling to the ground.
The zombie dies.
And I feel the Heat. Not inside me, but around me.
It’s been increasing with each one of them I’ve killed, saturating the area, and I think I…
A step back to dodge a frontal grab that turns into something far quicker than I expected at the last minute, something that almost manages to get past my guard, my increased reach, before I push the overweight man aside, thankful that he only has one arm and that his balance isn’t good enough to pursue me, and then I feel the Heat coming inside me with every ragged, panting breath. I’m no longer focusing on my abdomen, just… just hurriedly taking in as much air as I feel I need, just reacting. On instinct.
And the Heat is instinct.
So I feel it burning my thoughts, making me focus on the threats to my woman—to Saeko. I feel my yearning for her, the desperate need to just grab her, to get a hold of her and never letting her go, to fulfill her every need so she doesn’t have to leave.
I… I can ‘t see to my sides, can only see two grey hands reaching for me, trying to get me away from my woman, and I can’t allow that, so I smash them aside and jump forward to destroy everything that stands between us, everything that would hurt her, that would take her—
Purple hair rushes past me, and blood follows in her wake.
She’s in front of me, turning and twisting, her weapon an invisible arc only felt by the wounds it leaves behind. She doesn’t stop, never stops, just flows from one strike to another, never even considering a parry or a block, not when she can kill with a single strike, when she’s perfect, beautiful violence.
So I breathe.
The air burns as it comes into my chest, and I try to remember all those times a soothing voice told me to breathe with my abdomen. The Heat doesn’t want me to; it just wants me to react, not to act, not to decide.
I don’t listen to the Heat.
Cool air feels like a balm on my throat, and I can feel my belly pushing out, my whole body filling with something that carries the Heat, because it’s all around me, seeping into my body, my mind, and I suspect my very soul.
But I am not the Heat. I won’t allow myself to be.
So I close my eyes, knowing that Saeko is safe, that she’s battling at a level that won’t ever strain her, and just focus on my breath and my heart until they aren’t as rushed, until I can feel my senses expanding beyond the rush of adrenaline and—
She’s kissing me.
I open my eyes, and I see Saeko clasping my cheeks, her eyes swimming in something that has a part of euphoria and something else I don’t understand.
“The me that you saw? She fought beside Takashi. She learned about his courage, his determination. She trusted him with her secrets and saw how he protected them. She felt accepted.”
“I—”
She kisses me again, her lips carrying the same unstoppable feeling as her hand did earlier, and there’s nothing I can do until soft, tender, unmovable lips let me go.
“That was a Saeko that doesn’t exist. This one? I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen you confront both the monsters outside and within. I know you know my secrets, and I’ve seen you protect them.”
Another kiss, pulling down on my bottom lip as my bat clatters to the street once again.
And then she stops but doesn’t pull back, and I can feel the scalding air coming from her mouth washing over me as her full breasts push on my chest. And I almost miss what she says next:
“I’ve seen you accept me,” Saeko tells me, that small, mischievous, almost coy smile once more gracing her lips before I catch it turning into something as hungry as what she felt yesterday when her lust for fighting and dominance took over.
Except… It’s another hunger, one I don’t understand and one she doesn’t give me time to dwell on.
Because she pulls me down into another kiss, one that ends up with her mouth opening and her tongue prodding at me, asking for entrance that I’m quick to allow as I take what I suspect is Saeko’s first French kiss and… No. I likely took Saeko’s first real kiss.
I want to take all of them. All of her kisses from now on, and all the first times she can give me.
My arms come up, hugging her to me as my palms lie on satin fabric that glides beneath my touch like silk, and I turn my head to the side so I can properly kiss the gorgeous woman in my grasp.
She lets out a small whimper as I deepen it, as I turn her one-sided attack into something that can show her the hunger I feel for her, the one the Heat tries to get a grasp on. I can feel it rushing in my veins, pounding on my mind as if demanding to be let in, but I somehow manage to draw on my lust and desire without it taking over completely, and—
“Give it to me,” Saeko breathes against me, the words sounding almost lost as her fingers trail their tingling passage through my short hair. “You don’t need to hold back. Not with me,” she says, almost pleading.
And I break.
The Heat roars, and I can only manage to align it with my own desires as it naturally wants to do before it rushes up my arms and into my palms, sinking into Saeko’s slender, toned back as she lets out a low moan that only continues as she wraps her right leg around me and she presses herself as strongly as she cans against an erection that feels almost painful.
“I want you, Lee,” she says, her eyes burning azure. “I want you to take me.”
And then she bites my neck.
It’s hard enough I gasp in pain before I grasp her below her armpits. She’s stronger than me, I’ve no doubt about that, but she’s still a girl, still shorter than me, still lighter.
So lift her up. And I slam her against the wall to my left.
“Do it,” she grunts out. “Conquer me.”
The Heat throbs.
I grab her throat, pushing her against the wall, trying not to react when she smirks at me in what I feel is open invitation, and then I tear her blouse open, her beautiful breasts offered to me in a purple bra that’s only a half cup that manages to leave her rosy nipples exposed.
I hold back the urge to lean down and bite her and instead just maul one perfect breast up and out of the provocative piece of lingerie as Saeko once again surrounds me with her leg and pulls me toward her.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, even as she leans forward, the skin of her slender neck bulging between my fingers.
“You aren’t hurting me,” she tells me, and I don’t know if she’s reassuring me or accusing me.
“This… This thing. It’s messing with our minds, with our urges. It takes the worst of us and—”
“Lee… I think there are plenty of girls who would like their lover to get his way with them, magic or not,” she tells me before she lids her eyes and leans back, her neck stretching up as she bares it to me.
And only then do I notice my pants fall down to my ankles as her impish smile makes a comeback and stretches wide.
“Now,” she says as she slowly pumps my cock. “I want you to take me. I want you to show me that yesterday wasn’t a fluke, that you can make me feel… like that whenever you want. I want you to make me howl in ecstasy, Lee. I want your cock to make me come.”
There’s… not a lot I can say to that.
So I don’t.
I let go of her neck and grab her shoulders as I step back, and then I spin her around, make her face the grey concrete wall surrounding this home’s garden, and then I grab her skirt, pulling it up to see she’s wearing purple panties that match her bra, the wet lace sticking to her lips gorgeously as her thighs glisten and the muscles tighten and relax below pristine skin.
I tear them apart.
Her ass is glorious, a perfect, round thing firm enough I need to use some actual strength on to have my fingers sink in, and her wet hole is clenching beneath it, almost demanding I invade her, that I plunge my cock as far deep inside her as I can—
“Not... like this,” I manage to grunt out.
“Lee?” she asks, looking over her shoulder, her right cheek smushed against the concrete as her eye wildly looks for me.
So I keep my hold on her ass, lean over her body, and kiss her lips as best I can with the awkward position.
“Not for your first time. You deserve… God, I just want to fuck you over and over until you—damn it! You deserve better! You deserve intimacy, and time, and getting to know me! You deserve to want this!”
Her visible eye widens at that, and she gasps loud enough I almost recoil.
“Lee, I…” She closes her eye, her forehead smoothing in slow seconds before she opens it again and looks at me with a soft, tender smile I never want to part from.
And she grabs my cock, and slides it below her open, drenched pussy.
“Make me come,” she whispers.
And that I can’t resist.
So my fingers sink deeper into taut muscle as I saw in and out of the tight crevice between her lips, her lubrication making me glide smoothly along her open canal, and I can’t help but increase my pace, my strength, each time I see Saeko gasp and writhe when I bump against her clitoris until her deft, calloused fingers try to join me and start dancing over my sensitive tip.
Her other hand… She’s mauling her breasts.
Her body is twisted aside, and she makes sure I can see it when she pulls on her nipples, when she pinches them. At one point, she lifts her left breast high enough that she starts sucking on it, kissing it, and, when I slam against her rougher than I was moments ago, she puts her nipple between her lips and her cheeks hollow.
So I do it harder.
My hands move to her waist, to hold her in place, and I slam against her, her ass trembling each time I hit her body with mine. She moans, inviting and accepting, and so I keep at it until she joins me, until she fucks me back, her hands abandoning both my cock and her breasts as she pushes on the wall in front of us, her arms quivering with effort, her hair and head falling down between them, her arched back a marvel to behold in front of me.
“Lee… Oh, fuck, Lee! I am—you’re making me… Yes!”
And I come.
The Heat roars as the rush of my desire and yearning flows like a white river, and I feel it getting carried along in the churning waters, almost drowning as part of what makes it the Heat is washed away, and only thrumming power remains, only life that goes from me to Saeko and back again. And my knees tremble in alternative weakness and strength.
And Saeko howls.
Her back’s arched, her ponytail flying in a lazy arc, her head thrown back to the sky above.
And it is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
***
We are sitting on the street, our legs stretched as we both breathe deeply, synchronized.
She tried to taste my seed, after I came, to see if she could feel anything from it, but when I asked, she laughed it off, something twinkling in her eye that derailed my mind before I could ask anything else.
Then she just pulled on my arm and took me a couple of blocks up, away from here in case our noises attracted any more of them, and, after making sure we would have a good, uninterrupted view of any approaching threat, she pulled me down beside her and just started breathing deeply.
I don’t know why. I don’t even know why I’m imitating her or why she smiled at me like that when she noticed me doing so.
I just know that we are holding hands, our fingers entangled, and I can’t bring myself to care for anything else in the whole world.
Comments
Agrippa
Four people in a relationship is certainly not an easy proposition, especially when one of the four is actually two...
aj0413
I am both happy for Lee and kinda wanna smack him. When the hot girl with a sword seems to like you, you DO NOT question that, dammit. Also, I don't envy their love life; that shit looks like it's about to get even more complicated.
