Agrippa
patreon
All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2021-11-26 05:10:16 +0000 UTCAll Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 20
The morning after.
The morning after is a situation anime has woefully neglected to instruct its devoted fans on, most likely inferring (correctly) that anime fans will scarcely need such guidance.
Ouch. Why do I hurt myself so?
Still, the ultimate consummation of anime romance is usually a kiss, and sometimes not even that, what with how bashful we Japanese are about public displays of affection and how most romantic confessions happen on some suitably public dramatic location (the airport looks to be a staple for Westerners, yet they don’t share such qualms, so they are free to bother everyone around them with a sloppy, barely hygienic kiss that sometimes will even get the—likely related to Iroha—bystanders to cheer on), and no kiss ever has required a morning-after scene. All of this is no more than an excuse, really: they just don’t have the balls.
Which is a bit weird, seeing as said kiss-less confessions sometimes happen after three seasons filled with fanservice and a little sister character whom viewers are halfway convinced isn’t blood-related.
Still, there are shows where it happens. Where there is actual sex, and the couple is left to interact and have actual, human contact afterward, to sort out their feelings for one another and set on a heartwarming future together.
That mostly happens in hentai, though. In regular anime, the closest thing we usually get is the sex-less morning after.
Due to a series of contrived circumstances, typically involving accidental inebriation of a minor or a very convenient fever (bonus points if the protagonist developed said fever while pushing himself past his limits to reach some unattainable goal related to the promise he made to the romantic lead—which is all kinds of wholesome and tender rather than a red flag the size of Eva-02). The usual setup is that one of them will fall unconscious, and the other will stare like a stalker for a bit before their disturbing daydreams turn into disturbing actual dreams. Then the girl (usually, and to more easily defuse accusations that should involve the police) will sleepily crawl beneath the bedcovers of the boy. And whoever wakes up first the morning after will have a freakout, wondering what it is that they don’t remember from the night before.
What they don’t remember is that, when you aren’t used to sharing a bed with another person, you will very rarely go through the whole night without waking up at times. Something that should have been obvious, but that anime, maybe purposefully to make sex seem more appealing and help fight against our steadily declining birth rate, has neglected to inform me of.
It’s… A strange discovery, to wake up in the middle of the night, in a room that isn’t mine, and have a brief moment of disorientation soothed by the slender, toned arm draped over my chest and the petite mouth drooling on my shoulder from the other side.
It’s not like I didn’t need a shower already.
Like weneed a shower.
Because Shizu’s and Iroha’s scents are stronger than ever, in a way that I would never find unpleasant, but that it is very noticeable.
And, noticing it, reveling in it, I drift back to sleep.
The next time I wake up, I’m on my side, holding Shizu’s body from behind. Her hair has gotten into my mouth, and I twist my head just enough to get it out without waking her.
The arm trapped between her and the mattress beneath is numb, tingling.
I look behind me and barely make out a sprawled Iroha, her mouth undignifiedly open in a way she would never allow me to see while awake.
I smile. And fall back asleep.
The last time I wake up, there’s a grey morning light coming from beneath the curtains.
I’m lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. My right arm is beneath Iroha, curled up next to me, her mouth once again drooling on my naked chest.
My left arm is beneath Shizu, her back sticking to my body as much as humanly possible.
The room is filled with our combined scents. I definitely need a shower.
My body is filled with their warmth. The shower can wait.
And so can I.
So I lie there, in the middle of two bodies that have already entangled with mine, after sharing a vulnerable night with each other.
We are also naked beneath the sheets, and I can feel how similar yet different their bodies feel against mine. How Sizu’s fit form is barely disguised by her yielding curves. How Iroha feels just that much softer, how her body is slightly warmer than Shizu’s.
And, weirdly enough... It is not erotic. Not at all.
It’s… a different mindset, something I didn’t expect, but that also seems obvious in hindsight. Because nudity is thoroughly contextual, and… This is a very different context from last night. There’s no Shizu wavering between her seductress and insecure personas, no Iroha staring wide-eyed at me while I have my first time with our mutual girlfriend, no—
Ah. Right. Thatis erotic.
Just… I’ll just lie here, enjoying their closeness, and pretend I’m not trying to lift the sheets with an indirect application of mental power.
…
Note to self: don’t think about having sex with Shizu in her stupidly sexy garter belt and fishnets while Iroha fingers to us if I want to idly ponder about how tender, romantic, and non-sexual lying in bed with my two very naked lovers surprisingly is.
Yet another thing that should’ve been obvious in hindsight.
Also, I need to pee. Badly.
Repressing a sigh, I proceed to start the very laborious process of getting my arms back from the two girls who have laid claim to them without waking them up.
I feel like this should level up my subterfuge skill.
***
Shizu’s pantry is as disappointingly bare as I expected, which, as is according to expectations, shouldn’t be disappointing, yet it still manages to be. A paradox that she seems to embody far too often when it comes to anything that should make her suitable for a traditional marriage.
Luckily for her, that just suits my househusband role perfectly, so, in a way, the disappointment is actually encouraging.
I feel like I’m getting more confused by the moment, but I could’ve sworn I had an actual point.
So, while I look for it, because it is utterly unthinkable that the always focused Hachiman Hikigaya would have gone off on a random tangent for no actual reason while his head is still stuffed full of pink cotton—
‘Don’t push it. I’ve got a Dark History to revisit right here.’
I’m sorry, Brain-chan, you’re right; I shouldn’t ever give you such tempting targets while knowing with the utmost certainty we can engage in mutually assured destruction at any given time.
‘Mutual? Oi, brat, there’s nothing mutual about—’
I’ll offer to be Zaimokuza’s beta reader.
‘… I’ll be good.’
No, you won’t.
‘No, I won’t, but at least I’ll pretend. Now, what are we cooking?’
Well, as much as I would rather prepare miso soup so that I can cutely ask Shizu to eat my miso soup every day—
‘Wouldn’t she be the one who should ask to eat it in that scenario?’
She should be the one cooking it and me the one asking, so I’m a bit confused about the proper protocol. I am guessing the number of reversals is irrelevant after a certain point. Anyway, I would love to play that skit, but she’s woefully out of stock—if she’s ever had any—and the closest to a traditional Japanese breakfast I can make with what’s in this kitchen is instant ramen, so…
Eggs and toast.
With some luck, I can get Iroha to run to school with the toast dangling out of her mouth while yelling she’s going to be late.
Which… Ah, dammit, what’s one fetish more?
So, the toaster is… Straightforward enough I don’t think I’ll serve them charcoal, and the eggs are…
I don’t think I’ve ever fried eggs. How hard can it be?
The answer, I find out, after a disappointingly short fade to black, is ‘not very.’
Damn, I was hoping for a disaster scenario, with the open kitchen blackened by smoke as something purple and mosaiced asked me if I wanted to make a contract while I comically ignored it.
The actual result is three eggs with a not solid yolk and some crispy brown around the edges. So, I guess I’m better at cooking than I thought.
Komachi must never know.
And… Well, there’s a carton of orange juice to round up the cliché, so…
Managing to find a tray somewhere near the (surprisingly impressive) oven, I put the three dishes with eggs and toast on it, as well as three glasses full of orange juice that I’m sure have nothing to do with the vodka bottle I found in one of the cupboards.
A remarkably full cupboard.
I feel like I would be even more impressed if I knew enough about alcohol to know whether those are expensive brands. The whisky shouldn’t be. It sounds Japanese.
Anyway, I balance the tray on my right hand like a stylish waiter who’s actually a cross-dressing female butler, I open Shizu’s bedroom, and…
Oh.
They must have tossed around after I left, because the sheets are now around their waists, and Shizu is cradling Iroha’s head to her chest with a somewhat protective look on her sleeping face. I don’t know what face Iroha’s making, for obvious reasons, but if she hasn’t asphyxiated (an actual concern, in these circumstances), it should be somewhat happy.
I mean, mine would be.
They look so… I mean…
Damn it. I’m beginning to understand why Iroha keeps taking pictures of every little thing. Also, I may be the kind of parent who treats his child’s first month like a National Geographic documentary.
… Note to self: don’t think about what kind of parent I may be the morning after shooting Shizu full of… Well…
Hypothetical little Hachimans.
‘She has an IUD, remember?’
Oh. Right. Thanks, Brain-chan.
‘Don’t worry. Stress hormones are bad for me.’
Right. Well, I should…
Taking a page out of Iroha’s handbook, I furtively slide along the ground, making as little sound as I can manage, before I deposit the tray on a bedside table that’s so suspiciously empty it’s obvious Shizu cleaned it up before my… visit.
… Right. Let’s stick to ‘visit.’ If I ever say ‘booty-call’ out loud, Komachi may hunt me down on sheer principle.
And… well, I mean, the food’s getting cold, but…
How are you supposed to go about waking up two… you know?
‘Girls you want to have as much sex as physically possible with just in case heart-shaped pupils are actually a thing?’
I’m pretty sure they aren’t.
‘”Pretty sure” sounds like there’s margin for hypothesis testing. Very involved hypothesis testing.’
… You’re a devious opponent, Brain-chan. You always strike directly at the weakest point without any regard for honor or fair play.
‘Praise me more.’
“Hn… Uh, good morning?” Shizu asks as she wearily blinks after Iroha’s disturbed breathing does wonderful things for her pillowy (in more than one sense) breasts.
She blinks a couple of times, her eyes slightly crusted over. Then they shoot wide open, and she blushes.
Which any reasonable spectator may have guessed had something to do with the younger (“-er” being key to my continued survival) girl motorboating her chest in slow motion, but, for some reason, she’s looking straight at me.
And that blush looks dangerously close to someone who has something lodged in her throat rather than anything related to emotional cues designed to make the male lead cluelessly scratch the back of his head.
Also, she’s making a sound somewhat akin to a kettle and shaking Iroha awake.
“Wha—” Iroha’s cute, sleeping voice is cut off by Shizu sharply pointing at me, and she turns her honey eyes toward me and—
Freezes. And blushes scarlet.
It’s interesting to see that they both can manage to blush down to the top of their respective breasts. You know. In a purely academic sense.
‘You’ve never been this interested in academics.’
I’ve never had such outstanding teachers.
‘Shizu is literally your homeroom teacher.’
She’s much better one-on-one.
“Uh… Something on my face? I mean, asides from it being my face, which I would be grateful if you didn’t think it automatically qualified it to be described as ‘something.’”
They are still staring. As I uncomfortably reach to scratch the back of my neck, they audibly swallow in a synchronized manner.
Then Iroha stretches over Shizu to the other bedside table.
And grabs her phone and turns around to take a picture of me. Which shouldn’t surprise me at this point.
The acute squealing sound somewhat does.
“All right, seriously, what is going on?”
“Hachi…” Shizu says, her voice very deliberate and with the careful enunciation I would expect from her after one too many beers. “What are you wearing?”
I blink. Then look down.
Well, I’m wearing the white apron that was in her kitchen, because frying eggs is somewhat hazardous for the…
Naked…
Skin…
I’m wearing a naked apron.
With deliberate slowness, I raise my eyes and look at Iroha, who seems particularly engrossed in her impromptu photoshoot. I also very deliberately ignore the burning sensation on my cheeks, neck, and collarbone that may indicate I share a particular trait with my girlfriends I was just admiring a moment ago.
“Iroha. Delete that.”
“Never!”
I somewhat expected her to answer like that. What I didn’t expect was for Shizu to grab the smaller girl and toss her behind her, acting as a defensive barrier between the paparazzi and I.
That’s a scary look in her eyes.
“Copies,” she says, grim determination in her voice that could only be highlighted by a cigarette with a burning ember on its tip and an exhalation of smoke accompanying the gruff sound. Also, a stylish Italian hat. And now I know what to get her for her birthday.
“Obviously,” Iroha replies as she keeps shooting from beyond my reach.
I’m pretty sure anime never prepared me for this.
… Maybe I should rewatch Shokugeki no Souma.
***
Taking off the apron seems to be enough to stop Iroha and Shizu’s alliance from escalating to something I fear to speculate upon.
‘Right. “Fear.” That’s how the kids are calling it nowadays.’
Going by the birth rate? Likely.
Anyway, I’m now sitting on the bed once again, a girl on each side, and a tray of breakfast precariously balanced on my lap.
Which is somewhat nearer to what I expected the morning after to be like, except…
“Sooo good,” Shizu mumbles, a spread of crumbs already showered on the bedcover as she takes another bite of the crispy edge of her egg.
“It’s a fried egg, Shizu. Flattering, yet—”
“Hmmm~” Iroah keeps making noises I don’t want to hear from her when she’s not bound to the bed and—down.
“You both are ridiculous. Fried eggs and toast! I couldn’t screw this up if I tried!”
“Mastery of the basics is the mark of a true expert,” Shizu says with her best battle-manga teacher voice.
…
Down.
Oh gods, I can’t have a fetish for that! How unfair is it that she keeps pressing all my buttons?!
‘Says the naked apron man.’
It was an accident!
‘Dude, I know what your subconscious is like. There are no accidents.’
“Mom always says it’s the easiest and the hardest thing to cook. For fancy dishes, you only need to follow the recipe, but for the simple things, you need to have a good eye, an instinct—”
“Are you two trying to turn this into a cooking manga with people time traveling after eating bread?”
Shizu nods happily, still munching on the latest piece of toast. Iroha looks at me like she doesn’t know whether I’m kidding.
Oh, sweet summer child…
Anyway… Yeah, the eggs are pretty good.
Nothing like what Komachi makes, but I think her character type gives her a racial skill related to seasoning food for her brother.
OP. Imouto is too OP. Plz, never NERF.
“So…” I begin. And stop.
Shizu looks at me. Iroha looks at me.
Oi, you know loners are bad at coming up with conversation topics, don’t you? Why are you leaving me to struggle with this while you enjoy the breakfast in bed your inadvertently fetish-wearing boyfriend brought you—
Oh.
Yeah, that checks up.
“I’m going to be honest: I’m struggling to come up with something to say, because some part of me thinks I need to discuss what happened last night—”
“You don’t,” Shizu cuts me off.
“I… don’t?”
“Hachi,” Iroha continues from my right side, exchanging a glance with Shizu that leaves me a bit confused about their silent communication because as far as I know they aren’t fated rivals that share an innate understanding of each other’s fighting styles and communicate through spectacularly choreographed fights. “I mean… we can talk all you want about it if you want to, but… it doesn’t have to be a big thing? You already communicated plenty during it.”
“I…” And I remember.
Eyes that asked and allowed, touches that urged and delayed, breathing ragged, sounds sweeter at times and places, and a warm, accepting feeling that…
And now the tray is wobbling.
Iroha quickly grabs her glass of orange juice, and Shizu grabs both hers and mine.
And…
They both giggle.
Which I should be embarrassed by, but… There’s no… Nothing in their laughs that feels againstme. It’s… Warm.
Like last night.
And so I let myself laugh.
Shizu kisses my neck right where it meets my shoulder, and Iroha half-hugs me after leaving her glass on the table.
“I love you,” I say. To both of them.
“We know,” they answer.
We pause for a second, just touching each other, just feeling… close. I can’t even explain how much this silence that doesn’t scream at me to fill it means to me, this quiet sense of… something fitting.
Belonging.
“I would love to do something about that,” Shizu finally says. “But we should get ready to leave before long.”
“That means no shower-sharing for you, Senpai.”
“For me, uh? Does that mean—”
“Senpai, are you asking me to have a shower with your other lover so you can peek on us washing each other’s bodies? To watch as warm water makes our skin glisten, as white suds get momentarily caught in the more intriguing places of our bodies before being washed down so that nothing is hidden and you can see without any obstacle how our hands massage each other, delicately rubbing our flesh so that it becomes clean, pure, ready for you to taint it once again with your seed? That’s impossible, Senpai! I’m sorry, but that just won’t happen. You have too much stamina to finish before we have to leave, after all.”
It’s the smile that does it.
The words have made me go from happily trying to set up my own camping tent with the sheets to trying not to proclaim that my drill is the drill that will pierce the Heavens, but that smile, that impish little thing that always punctuates her little speeches since she discovered how to turn them into a weapon against my very self-restraint…
I grab the tray just as it tilts to the side and pass it to Shizu, who takes it without any protest; then I turn over and, with my arms stretched and on my knees, get over Iroha.
She’s still smiling, still defying me with that foxy grin, and the flush quickly spreading down the sides of her neck only makes her even more appealing.
“I won’t take you right now. Because I love you and want to make this special for you, to wait until the day you are ready and ask me for it, and I don’t want our first time together to be a rushed thing when we both need to go to school. I want you to feel loved, and secure, and special, because you are. Because you deserve all of that and more I’m not sure I can ever give you.”
Her eyes are shining now, and her grin has turned into a smile that, if I’m not kidding myself, has a bit of dopiness in it. Something that makes my own face struggle to remain serious and decisive.
“But, Iroha, you should’ve already realized that, when that time comes? Each and every single one of these little speeches will be on the back of my mind. And I’m going to make you scream for every one of them.”
She licks her lips before biting them, her chin tucked in, then her arms surround my neck, and she pulls herself up, her chest pressed against mine, her mouth right beside my ear.
“Why do you think I keep coming up with them… Hachi?”
My heart pounds, our naked bodies too close, her heat rising up to meet me—
And Shizu pokes my side.
“Down¸ lover boy.”
“If I go down, there’s a very real possibility I will—”
“You know what I mean!”
“Oh, right.”
I turn to the side as Iroha lets me go, and Shizu promptly plops down the tray with what remains of our breakfast over my erection.
“Now I wish I had relentlessly teased you before we… you know.”
“You did.”
“Uh?”
“Seriously? Do I really need to remind you?”
“I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about, brat.”
I look at her, and she really looks like she believes what she’s saying.
Fine.
I raise my voice a bit, making it as acute as I can go without outright pantomime, then I raise my hand so the first joint of my index finger touches my lower lip in a pointlessly cute display that would have Komachi voluntarily undergo an experimental procedure by the American government to graft physics-breaking metals to her bones just so she could get the merciful effect of the trauma-induced amnesia, and then look at Shizu with my head lowered and…
Well, what else?
“Take me! Take me! Take me!”
She flushes red before burying her face in her hands, Iroha looks at us with endearing confusion that would make Yui proud, and I laugh.
The morning after turned out not to be such a big deal, after all.
Just as not expected.
