Hot Spring Trip - Couldn’t Wait Until Night
An hour after arriving at the ryokan.
“You know, your hands have been sitting there for a while now.”
Hanamori turns around, giving me a flat, unimpressed look.
Just the two of us in the room. Only the TV murmurs quietly.
I’m sitting behind Hanamori, wrapped around her.
And, before I know it — genuinely without meaning to — against my own better judgment — both hands had settled naturally over Hanamori’s chest.
“I can’t focus on the show like this.”
Even saying that, Hanamori doesn’t try to pull away. My hands keep moving, soft and pliant, entirely on autopilot.
Sadly, maybe it’s the size and softness I don’t have myself. That strange give, the way it sinks under my palm, is addictive.
“I mean… it’s just there.”
“Don’t say it like some mountaineer’s famous quote. Now you just look like a full-on creepy old lady.”
I slid my hand under the hem of Hanamori’s dress, gently slipped past the edge of her bra, and pinched the tiny nub between my fingertips.
“…Hmm… Oh, come on…”
A soft, sweet moan escaped her lips.
I pressed my face against her ear and gave it a gentle nibble.
“…Come on. You said you’d wait until night.”
“Being cute is your fault. Can’t help it. Can’t hold back.”
When we arrived at the ryokan, I’d played it cool — “later, slowly” — but there’s no way I could actually hold out.
Right then, pressing Hanamori down, leaning in—
Lips meeting, just about to deepen, tongues about to slip in—
Knock knock knock.
“Excuse me.”
Ah, crap.
We move to the table at the speed of light and sit facing each other, formally, like nothing happened.
The waitress carries in the food with careful hands, explaining each dish with a gentle smile.
Suddenly finding our own straight faces ridiculous, my mouth won’t stop loosening.
I steal a glance at Hanamori across the table; she’s looking down, the corner of her mouth trembling the same way.
Our eyes meet, and we both shake with silent, held-back laughter.
Bonus came through, and it’s Hanamori’s birthday, so I got the best course tonight.
My treat, obviously.
Pouring chilled bottled beer into our glasses, we toast.
A clear clink rings through the room.
Picking at appetizers, sipping beer. Everything carefully made.
We eat, trading pointless conversation. Work stuff, a drama we’re both hooked on, some strange product spotted at the supermarket last week. Nothing in particular.
That conversational rhythm is, as always, unbearably comfortable.
“Oh, right. The other day, Kiritani was so funny, she—”
The moment Hanamori brings up Kiritani’s name in a work story, I can feel my own brow furrow.
“Asami-san, are you mad about something?”
“Not really.”
“Your lips are pursed and your brow’s all scrunched.”
“Just thinking you sound happy whenever Kiritani-san comes up.”
“Hmm. Jealous?”
“Wha— no, not at all.”
Hanamori’s grin slowly turns sly. Infuriating.
I realize my own lower lip’s jutted out. Childish. Embarrassing.
After that, sashimi and grilled dishes keep arriving, one plate at a time. Each time, Hanamori melts, “So good~,” “I’m so happy~.”
That, more than anything, is cute, and my chest warms watching it. I keep drinking my beer, watching that face.
For the second round, I order a cup of sake.
Watching me pour it, Hanamori gives me a suspicious look.
“Still drinking?”
“Yeah, last one.”
“If you fall asleep, I’m not speaking to you.”
Hanamori says it, staring straight at me. That look is unbearably cute, and I can’t resist teasing her.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“You know why.”
“Don’t know~. You’ll have to actually say it.”
“Ugh, seriously infuriating. That tone, that face.”
I laugh softly, sipping the sake.
Hanamori, red all the way to her ears, turns her face away with a huff. That profile, too, is annoyingly cute.
After dinner, off to the bath.
A private bath attached to the room. Small, but luxurious.
A carefully tended garden glows faintly under soft lighting. Steam rises slowly through the air.
First time bathing with Hanamori. Undressed, her whole figure catches me off guard, entranced.
Pale skin. A smooth, flowing body line. Round, well-shaped hips. The silhouette from her waist to her thighs to her feet, beautiful, alluring.
“Want me to wash you?”
“No thanks.”
Hanamori says that and starts showering briskly on her own.
I pour body soap into my palm, work up a good lather, and gently touch Hanamori’s chest. Foam spreads softly over her skin.
Slowly, moving from the base towards the tip, I gently massaged her breast with my entire soapy palm.
“Mmm…”
Hanamori’s body trembled slightly, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
“You wanted me to wash you after all, huh.”
“I don’t…! You just touched me out of nowhere.”
Protesting, but not pulling away.
Every time I cupped her in my palm, the lather would slip through my fingers.
By the time we finish washing and rinsing the shampoo out, I ask, out of curiosity.
“After the holiday, business trip with Kiritani-san, right?”
“Mm, yeah.”
“Lucky her.”
Hanamori catches my expression and starts grinning.
“Jealous again.”
“Am not.”
“Suuure. Your lips are pursed again.”
“Quiet. They’re not.”
“Sure they aren’t. Should be fun, though. Might even share a room.”
Hanamori glances sideways, grinning meanly. This one knows exactly what she’s doing.
I lean in and, without warning, leave a hickey on her neck, sucking hard.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Anti-cheating measure. Marking.”
“I keep telling you, it’s not like that with Kiritani.”
Hanamori sighs, giving a wry laugh.
We both settle into the tub. A full moon peeks through the skylight. Hanamori leans against the edge by the window, gazing absently at the moon. Her back, in the moonlight, looks like a painting.
I just watch, absent, the smooth line running from her nape to her shoulder to her back.
Letting out a breath, I look up at the ceiling and let the words drop.
“Work’s rough sometimes, but.”
“Mm?”
Hanamori turns toward me.
“Having time like this makes me feel like I’m really alive.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“But sometimes I think it’d be fine if my life just ended right here.”
“What’s that,” Hanamori laughs, turning back to the moon.
“Like, wanting to end things at the happiest possible moment.”
“Hmm, I kind of get it, but.”
“Right?”
“I don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
“Why… there’s still so much I want to do with you, Asami-san.”
She murmurs it quietly, back still turned.
“Eh, what’s that. Way too cute.”
“Quiet.”
Still facing away, maybe covering embarrassment. I can see Hanamori’s ears turning red.
I say it quietly, toward her back.
“Let me celebrate your birthday next year too.”
“Yes.”
“And if possible — every year after that.”
“…Not ‘if possible.’ Definitely.”
Hanamori laughs softly. A gentle smile.
Then she drifts closer. The warmth of the bath and Hanamori’s soft body heat slowly overlap.
I pull her into a tight embrace, our lips meeting. Soft at first, just a gentle touch.
Then a little deeper, tilting, slow enough that our breath mixes.
The full moon’s light wavered, rippling, across the surface of the bath.