Episode 6: Mio-chan — Can I?
Riwa-san’s hand moved across my skin without hesitation. Like she knew the way.
From the side of my neck to the hollow of my collarbone, the line of my shoulder — her fingertips drifted over it all, soft and scooping.
“Mio-chan… you’re softer than I thought.”
The whisper against my ear made something deep in my body lurch.
“N-no…”
A small resistance, swallowed by the futon.
“If you actually want me to stop, you need to say so louder.”
Teasing, but testing.
(I don’t know.)
(What she’s saying, what she’s doing, what any of this is — all of it.)
That hand moved from my shoulder inward, tracing below my collarbone.
Hot. Wherever she touched, it felt like it could melt.
“…Mio-chan, have you been wanting this?”
“Wanting — I don’t — “
Her fingers passed just beside my chest.
Close enough to almost touch — and just that was enough to stop my breathing.
“Are you scared…? Scared of me?”
“…No, I just… I don’t — know, that’s all…”
“Then you don’t have to know.”
Like she was talking a lost child through something. Gently.
With those words, Riwa-san shifted her position, wrapping me like I was something to hold.
And her palm rested against my chest.
The frantic hammering of my heartbeat moved straight up into her arm.
Like I was throwing every secret I had at her.
Why is it like this.
But — I had no choice but to lean into that warmth, just a little.
Her fingertips traced the soft curve just below my navel. Light, slow.
“Mio-chan — you felt that, just now, didn’t you?”
A voice from right beside my ear, clearly delighted.
I wanted to protest, but my throat seized, and only a thin thread of breath escaped.
Her fingers moved sometimes in small circles, like soothing a kitten.
Just that — just that small, deliberate teasing — and my whole body rippled.
“…ah, I — n, not — there — “
And then her palm moved to the inside of my thigh.
The temperature of my skin was different there. Flushed, like only that spot was on fire.
“…Mio-chan.”
A voice like an exhale, speaking my name.
“…Can I?”
Just those two words, and something tripped.
I’ve touched myself before. More than once.
But like this — with someone else.
Handled as if precious, but every escape sealed off —
asked permission in that gentle voice —
I’d never imagined it could be like this.
My fingers twisted into the sheets.
That was the only answer I had to give.
◇◆◇◆◇
Just the tips of her fingers, touching.
That alone, and every thought I had rushed toward the point of contact.
“…You’re warm, Mio-chan.”
The whisper was soft, almost like praise.
I tried to answer.
My throat closed. Nothing came out.
My head swayed.
(…does she do this with everyone? Anyone?)
The question had already lost its meaning.
But my body was pulling straight toward the heat, no detours.
“Riwa-san…”
Breathing went shallow.
My own voice sounded like someone else’s.
And we slid quietly into a place without words.
Her fingers didn’t just touch — they moved in slow circles, then found the place I knew best and struck it, gently, from an angle I’d never known.
A ragged exhale caught in the back of my throat.
A body that didn’t feel like mine
was holding heat, trembling faintly.
Beneath the covers, skin against skin, impossibly close.
The clock’s ticking had been the only boundary between me and the world.
But her fingers were writing a new rhythm into my body.
A metronome precision that resonated directly, and gradually, unmade me.
Without noticing, the world’s sounds disappeared.
In their place, this small melody became everything I was.
My hips answered first, an involuntary motion.
As if she’d been waiting for it, Riwa-san’s other hand found my waist and held it, gently, so I couldn’t go anywhere.
“…Riwa-san — wait, wait — “
“Hmm? Do you actually want to stop? You okay~?”
I couldn’t nod. I closed my eyes without answering.
My heartbeat came apart.
White light, pulsing at the edges of my vision.
My back arched.
At the moment her fingertips, at the very deepest point, caught my final tremor.
Something inside me — snapped.
◇◆◇◆◇
By the time I found my next breath,
her hand had loosened, but it was still there.
“Hey, Mio-chan.”
Her voice came soft against my ear.
“Mio-chan — don’t you want to do anything?”
“…Don’t you want me?”
That voice — teasing on the surface, but underneath it, something that sounded almost genuinely curious.
I swallowed. Something snagged in my throat.
An alarm going off somewhere in my chest.
(…I didn’t not like it.)
(No — I —)
But.
…She’s drunk. She’s just messing around.
I’ve never done anything like this, I don’t know how to handle it.
And besides, we’re not even — together — so if something happens, what face do I make at work tomorrow?
…if something happens, what does that even mean here?
It went around and around in my head — every reason why not.
If I get swept up in this, and I take it seriously, and then she just — tosses me aside.
Just imagining it, my heart went cold.
Terrifying. I can’t trust it. Can’t trust any of it.
What was real, I didn’t know.
“You’re… you’ve had too much to drink… Riwa-san, come on, let’s — let’s sleep, okay…?”
The words I least wanted to say came out of my mouth.
Me, unable to choose, chose to run from choosing.
— Silence.
The air went cold in an instant.
Riwa-san’s eyes fixed on me.
But it wasn’t the teasing light from before.
Something more serious. Pulling. A look from her I’d never seen — an adult’s gaze.
(…beautiful.)
That was the thought from the calm corner of my panicking mind.
“Mio-chan, do you know what your face looks like right now?”
Her voice against my ear, almost like a sigh.
“…That face really doesn’t back your argument up.”
Her fingertips drew away, tracing across my skin like they didn’t want to go.
A small laugh escaped her — exasperated and fond at once,
a sound I’d never heard from her before.
“…hm. You really are such a coward, Mio-chan.”
I didn’t understand what she meant and stayed very still.
Then Riwa-san’s face drifted close —
And against my cheek, a soft sound, like a kiss.
“…Huh?”
I couldn’t process what had just happened.
The spot she’d touched burned, like a small scorch mark.
In front of me, Riwa-san’s face, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with something.
“Night~”
A light pat on the head.
And she turned away, and threw herself into her own futon without ceremony.
The room was left with silence, and the sound of my heart.
I touched my cheek. The place that had made that small sound.
Just tracing it with my fingertip brought the warmth of her lips back, and my face went hot again.
(…what — what was that?)
But I remembered.
The hands that had known my body better than I did.
“You really are such a coward.”
That voice — half exasperated, and somehow sweet.
I don’t understand her. I don’t understand any of it.
My thoughts had no place to land.
But the answer was right there.
Not about Riwa-san. Mine.
I lifted the edge of my futon quietly.
In the dark, I looked down.
There, without any room for excuses — was a reality that was flushed and undeniable.
(…she was just — skilled, that’s all.)
(Yeah. I got carried away — that’s the whole story.)
I tried to believe that.
…But something was rioting in my chest.
Like it was prying open the skin from underneath.
— Is that all?
Is it really?
Then what is this ache?
Why does something like I want to know more keep trying to come out of my mouth?
Is this —
is this my — truth?