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50% All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! [Oregairu, Poly] / Chapter 58: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 55 – Iroha Is a Worried Girlfriend

Chapter 58: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 55 – Iroha Is a Worried Girlfriend

I let him trick me.

[Again].

Because, let's face it, taking up the Student Council President position? Playing to his tune and taking the damn job? That… That was…

That was dumb. Like, [so] dumb.

I [knew] what he was doing! He [told me] to my face! And I still fell for it, hook, line, and sinker!

I would like to claim that at least it was cunning on my part, seeing how I keep roping him into helping me with any of the annoying chores that endlessly pop up, but, honestly? I just bought what he was selling because he knew which damn buttons to push. 'Oh, Iroha, you'll be able to play the poor, overworked younger girl who relies on her seniors; Hayama won't be able to resist that.'

Except you know on which senior I ended up relying? Yeah. Not on Hayato.

… Thankfully.

Wait, did that actually work? Did Hachi seeing me struggle and help me again and again do [precisely] the one thing he told me it would do? Did he actually con me into conning him?

Damn, I need a change of panties.

Well, not really. What I actually need is somebody to take care of this damn spreadsheet because everybody seems to have forgotten that the prom being saved from Yukino's evil stepmother (genetically related or otherwise) means that [somebody] still needs to make the prom happen.

And that, seeing as Yukino is currently too busy being entranced by Yui (substitute 'entranced' by 'trained,' 'disciplined,' or whatever other thing those two may be getting up to—likely all of them, going by my latest chat with the not-actually-that-innocent redhead), and seeing that Hachi is too busy with…

I'd rather not say. I mean, even to myself, describing in detail what Hachi is too busy with feels…

Oh, dear, I [may] need a change of panties.

Three of us. He has three of us, and I'm stuck here, alone in this room with a blackboard filled with all the post-it notes Yukino kept pasting to it like she expected me to read all of them, much less understand them.

I'm here, making the prom that's for [them], while they are running around doing whatever it is people in love who aren't me do.

… And he had [the nerve] to spoil that. He just straight up told both Yui and Yukino what I was doing with the damn ball and—damn it! I wanted it to be a surprise just for the three of them! Yes, I counted on (hoped with my whole being) him seeing through it, but… but he shouldn't have told them that I was… That I was going to work this hard just because…

Just because I kept going to a room filled with three weird people who always welcomed me like I belonged.

And now I'm getting mushy. The things I do not to look at Yukino's spreadsheets…

"How is it going?" my less terrifying girlfriend asks me from the door behind me, leaning her head past the frame, and…

And I look at her over my shoulder and remember the last time she held me after our failed attempt at getting me rid of my Sapphic virginity, and now I'm blushing up to the tip of my ears if the burning, tingling sensation is anything to go by, but I have to smile in greeting, or else this is going to feel weird, [be] weird, and—

"Iroha?" she asks, a raised eyebrow accompanying my name, and making me remember how she looked at me as she held me in her arms and I cried, and she said I'm sexy ('exasperatingly sensual'), and I never thought it would mean so much to hear that from her lips, and—and I need to answer, or she'll think there's a problem other than my brain being broken, which, knowing [them,] will end up with me at the hospital trying to explain that having an overactive imagination and libido is not an actual sickness, [Mom].

… Fuck.

"Hi! I wasn't expecting—" I take a look outside the window on the wall to the left of my desk at the already darkening sky, and my shoulders fall. "Anyone. I wasn't expecting anyone, now that I think about it. It's really late, isn't it?"

She chuckles. My heart races.

"Yes. I actually came to ask you if you wanted a ride?" she says, entering the room, walking in that way she has of confidently striding with her hands in her coat's pockets without really looking anywhere but where she's going.

Me, in this particular instance.

I look at my girlfriend wearing a long, white, flaring coat, smiling invitingly at me, and offering me a ride on a sports car, then I look at the flickering monitor of a laptop that's definitely not up to Yukino's demands when it comes to handling superhumanly detailed administrative minutia.

I close the lid, hear the fan whine its goodbye, and smile in relief.

Then I get up and try not to skip toward her.

***

Shizu's car smells like old cigarettes, which is never something I want my clothes to smell like.

Still, the weather is approaching spring, so I can safely lower the window and let the cool breeze in as she drives just fast enough that my hair is ruffled rather than having my face half-freeze, and the seats are sinfully comfortable, the leather as plush as if it was on an expensive jacket.

She hasn't put any music on. It's just the purr of the engine, the rustling of the wind, her comforting silence, and me.

And…

"You want to ask me something," I say.

Her mouth twists into something that shows a bit of regret and a lot of discomfort, and she taps the steering wheel with two fingers, still staring straight ahead as we overtake a grey van with mirrored windows that makes me think of those videos where the actress is looking through a one-sided mirror at people outside the van while she is—uh, I mean… Shizu's going fast, but not too fast? Yep. That's the observation I'm making.

Really.

"How are you?" she finally says as we re-enter the proper lane, not even pulling a death-defying stunt by nearly crashing into an oncoming truck.

"Really?" I ask her. "All this build-up, and that's what you are asking?"

"After yesterday," she clarifies.

Ah.

That makes sense.

"It… It hurt. He's always been… Yes, he's shy and doesn't like social confrontations or facing people he doesn't know, but… But he's always been able to push past that, you know? He's always been…"

"Strong."

"Yes. He's always been strong."

She lets the words hang in the air, frowning at them but not at me.

"People…" she hesitates, briefly looking to the side, meeting my eyes before quickly going back to the road ahead as residential buildings go by and the yellow streetlights cast semi-transparent, moving shadows past her gorgeous face while the inner light of the car lets me see all the beautiful details of lips he's kissed before mine. Then her mouth tightens, and she sets on what she wants to tell me. "People aren't that simple, Iroha. We can be strong with some things, weak with others, or just… just hurt. Being wounded doesn't mean you are less than you thought you were."

I… I rest my hand on the black slacks she almost always wears to school, the smooth wool already familiar to my touch.

And I don't move it from there.

"I know. Really, I know, but seeing it? That's… Seeing Hachi just sit there, not commenting on his father's empty seat, not being half as talkative as he always is, being [shocked] that I managed to make his mother like me? It's… He kept expecting everything to go wrong, just because she was there, as if… as if…"

I look aside at her, begging for her to continue a sentence I can't find in myself to finish.

"As if he's convinced he's… [wrong]. That things can't work out between him and her, and that it's his fault. For having been born," she says, answering my plea.

Her fingers tighten on the brown leather of the steering wheel, and the car goes just a bit faster.

I nod.

Then we come to an intersection, and she takes a right when she should've gone ahead.

I don't protest. Don't even comment on it.

And moments later, we're back at the breakwater of Chiba Port, looking over a dark sea that is going from purple to black right before my eyes.

… We had our first kiss here. The one that didn't involve Hachi's dick or her breasts, I mean.

"How would it have been…" she hesitates, turning the engine off and bathing us in silence before looking straight at me with anxious worry in her eyes. "How would it have been if you had taken him to your house?"

My hand, the one that's still resting over her warm thigh, tightens, the well-ironed cloth bunching between my fingers.

"I don't know. I… I don't always pretend, with Mom. Not when we're alone, and she can be herself. But she may have put on a performance for my first boyfriend, and then I'd gone along with it, and I just know he would've seen right through both of us and been [disgusted], probably shown it too, because he can't pretend to save his life, and… And it… It would've made me happy. If he'd messed everything up, insulting my mother to her face? I think I would have—uh. You know."

"Rewarded him?" she says, a smirk on her lips and a waggle on her eyebrows.

"Till his knees buckled and his balls were empty," I answer, prompting us to share a very solidary blush.

I think.

Mine may be darker than hers. It's hard to say without a mirror.

"You're incorrigible…" she mutters.

"Or maybe you lot haven't tried hard enough. Do I have to buy the paddle myself?"

"Wha—you aren't being serious!"

"Ah, such a miser Mistress I have…"

"Don't—I'm not your Mistress! I'm barely my [own] Mistress!"

"Oh? Does that mean you have some… [interesting toys?] Have you played like [that] with your—"

"I am a pure, chaste maiden who hasn't owned any toys beside her Gundam models for years!"

"Oh, kinky—"

Suddenly, there's a hand covering my mouth and a pair of gray eyes over crimson cheeks glaring at me.

I return her previous eyebrow waggle and lick her palm.

"Gah! You—you [are] incorrigible," she says, holding her hand as I shoot her a smug smirk.

And… well, there [are] certain traditions to keep.

"Shizu, are you asking me to contain myself? To act like I'm a meek, shy little thing for you to coddle and take care of? To be an innocent maiden who blushes at the first inappropriate thing to come out of your lips? I'm sorry, Shizu, but that's impossible! After all, my first kiss was with his cock and your breasts."

She… blinks at me.

So far, so good.

The fist grabbing the front of my shirt may be slightly adlibbed, though. Senpai is usually a stickler for following the script.

"You… [You…"] she growls.

And I kiss her.

I grab the sides of her head, her long hair easily tangling on my fingers, and I shoot forward, almost crashing against her lips as her eyes widen in panic and her fist becomes trapped between our chests.

And then… I climb into her lap.

"Iroha…?" she asks as I lean back, just to stare at the beautiful woman that brought me together with our lover, that allowed me to be with him and her, in turn. That planned to leave him to [me].

To the other stupidly selfless martyr I love.

"You're… You're too good a person, Shizu," I say, my voice almost breaking before I twist my head to kiss below her jaw, forcing her to look up at the beige, knapped fabric above her as I lower my hands down her hair, going around her shoulders before regretfully leaving the dark, wild locks behind to slide my arms around her and beneath her coat.

She takes a sharp breath when I trace a tight line up her neck and right along the ridge of her ear with the tip of my tongue, and then her own arms are around me, trapping me against her, pulling me into her warm, soft embrace only spoiled by her damn vest being too rigid to let me feel her breasts once again as they so rightfully deserve to be appreciated.

"Iroha… I brought you here to [talk]," she says, the warm air carrying her words getting trapped in my hair, tingling in my ear.

"I am communicating…" I murmur before digging my tongue inside her ear, because turnabout is fair play.

She shivers beneath me, her arms tightening, and [now] I need a change of panties.

"I… Oh, gods, this is… I was worried about you!" she says, her fingers clawing at my back despite my jacket.

"So am I. It can't be healthy to contain… [this]," I tell her before catching her earlobe between my teeth and pulling just as hard as I always want Hachi to pull on mine.

She gasps.

I [grin].

"I… I thought you wanted to film this?" she says, voice quivering to the rhythm of her throat beneath my lips.

And I…

Am I… Am I going to fuck Shizu right here? In her car? Without any preparations?

"I…" I start to answer her, leaning back to look at her gray eyes, flushed cheeks, half-open lips, the expression of almost suffering twisting her beauty into something fragile, something I want to hold even if only to see it [shatter].

… Damn them.

"You… This is all your fault. Both of you," I say, grinding my hips on her lap.

She [dares] blink up at me in confusion.

"This!" I yell, waving a hand over her in what would be a dismissive gesture if I wasn't molding my body to hers. "This whole thing! You being caring, and emotionally open, and worried about me! This [shouldn't] make me horny! It shouldn't make me want to tear your clothes off, dive between your thighs, and [drown] in your pussy! I should be a regular teenager, slowly exploring with a clumsy boy or girlfriend just as clueless as I am, but nooo, I had to fall for [him], and then for [you], the original model, and now I'm unable to separate my libido from my emotions, and each and every time you make me fall deeper for you I get this… this [burst] of something I can't contain and I love you so damn much, and my body wants nothing but to melt into yours, because I can't stand the thought of being away from the beautiful woman who keeps doing the right thing to… to…"

She's… staring at me. Wide-eyed.

[Shocked.]

She [dares!]

"I… Iroha, I…"

I grab her tie and pull her up, my lips, this time, [crashing] against hers, my tongue shoving past them, searching for hers and teasing it out of its stupor so that they can dance and entangle as my eyelids flutter, and I let go of her tie to undo my shirt's buttons.

She moans, and I grind against her, the front of my skirt rising with each undulation, with each of the movements I would use to impale myself on Hachi if he was here, but he isn't, and so I'm rubbing against her hard enough that the skirt gets caught on her vest and the front of my panties is now dragging against the stiff fabric, one of the round buttons making me go cross-eyed when I manage to push my clit against it.

And, finally, Shizu's hands drop down from my back to… to my [ass], grabbing me, pulling me tighter against her, her fingers slipping under the elastics of the leg-holes to dig into my bare flesh, the skin in there as sensitive as ever, making me wonder for a brief, lust-addled moment how it would be if she bent me over her lap and spanked me before shoving her fingers deep inside of my—

"Iroha…" she breathes out, her lips brushing mine with every beat of my name on them.

I… I whine.

Because it's not [fair]. It's not fair that she's this beautiful, and this good, and this wonderful, and she's also sexy enough to fog up my brain with constant reminders of how the skin of her breasts felt when surrounding his [cock], shining with his spilled precum before I gathered all of it off her.

It's just… [not fair].

"We… We don't have to go any further. We can stop here, wait for a better day, a better place—" she says.

But her eyes are wide, her lips swollen with my rough kisses, her breathing halting, and… And I think she's aroused out of her mind, yet still trying to hold back just out of her worry and caring for me.

[Damn them].

"You…" I say, the words hard to shape when they are the last thing I want between my lips when so much more tempting alternatives are right in front of me. "You taught him. About something genuine. You did," I accuse her.

She blinks, surprised.

"I… did?" she answers with more confusion than even Hachi would.

My eye twitches.

Damn them…

"Then… Then I want you to listen: I [genuinely] am so aroused I can't wait anymore. Because I love you. Because you're… you're [perfect]. Not because you don't make mistakes—because you certainly did when you introduced me to the damn trio to take care of what should have been a simple issue before they got their trauma all over it—but because you're perfectly [you]. Because I can't think of somebody who's as caring, gentle, supportive, and selfless except for your second incarnation. Because I… I wanted a perfect memory. I wanted to film it, capture it, and share it, but it's more important to me that the memory exists, and I can't bear the thought of letting you go without showing you I want you as much as I want him, that I'm with you because of you. That I…

"That I want you. You."

I lose steam at the end, my angry arousal stepping aside to let the raw feelings come out.

Because…

Because they made me. They turned me into this.

And I love them for it, but I'm certainly not letting them get away with it.

They are going to take [responsibility].

"Iroha…" Shizu mutters as she lets go of my left cheek, my panties snapping against my tender skin as her fingers leave me feeling cold and neglected.

Then… Then she licks her lips, eyes as wide as they have been since I jumped on top of her lap (when they weren't closed, I mean), and she shifts below me for a moment before she points to her right with her head.

Where she's holding her phone.

This time, it's me who blinks at her.

That doesn't stop me from taking my hand out of her coat to snatch the damn thing.

"It's… It's better than mine," I say. "The camera is decent enough."

"It's supposed to have some AI function for denoising and low-light filming. Honestly, I grabbed it because it had good speakers, but you can't get those without all the other bells and whistles," she says, pretending we are having a normal conversation and that her clothes aren't soaked with my arousal.

I look into her eyes.

She looks back.

And I get up, careful not to bonk my head against the car's roof, shimmying back to my seat, where I get on my knees and slowly start to pull my jacket off my shoulders.

Then… Then Shizu is filming, turned toward me on her own seat, and I smile at the objective, biting my lip.

"I… Hello, Hachi, Haruno. I know this wasn't planned, but… but Shizu was worried about me and offered me a drive home, and I… Well… You know how she is. How she will say or do something stupidly caring or kind, and suddenly you just… you just want her world to be as bright a place as you can make it, and… Well…

"Sorry, Haruno; I guess she's first.

"I still want to lick your legs until there's not a spot of them I haven't tasted, though."

My face's burning.

My breath's short.

And Shizu is giggling.

So I do as well, letting the tension drain out of me with the shared sound as I let the jacket drop entirely and pause before taking off my pink sweater. The ribbon goes next, and then I let the shirt fall open, my pink bra exposed to the camera.

And to Shizu.

… OK, [now] I am blushing.

I mean, I can feel my ears burning, so it's that, or I'm mercifully on fire. Going By Shizu's harsh breathing and lack of panic, I'm going to guess that it's the blushing.

Damn it.

"You're beautiful," she breathes out.

And makes things so much worse.

"Iroha?" she asks with a hint of worry for some mysterious reason that doesn't have anything to do with me hiding my face behind my hands.

"I… Just one moment. You took me by surprise," I say, trying to get a hold of—

She's kissing me.

She just… pulled my hand away and took my lips, and everything smells of old cigarettes, and her, and leather, and…

And [us].

Because we're two very aroused women locked in a small car, and my drenched panties are exposed, and both her vest and pants have some damp spots, so our scent is surrounding me, muddling my thoughts, mixing with one another and promising me countless images of [us] mixing as closely and intimately.

I manage to open my eyes just enough to check that she's still holding her phone up, pointing it at our heated kiss, and then my hands go straight to her vest to unbutton the damn thing before I do the same with her shirt. She doesn't stop me when I go lower, when I reach her belt buckle, the cold metal briefly soothing on the tip of fevered fingers before I open it, and then…

Then her pants are open, and I lean back to see a lilac bra and matching panties with black, glossy embroidery with a lily motif greeting my eyes.

My eyebrow rises unprompted.

"Really?" I ask the flustered (adorable, delectable, [delicious]) older woman.

She, still holding the phone up and touching the roof of her car, fidgets.

"It… doesn't mean anything," she says, avoiding my eyes.

"[Lilies]. You have [lilies] on your underwear," I tell the otaku who's definitely aware of precisely what Revolutionary Girl Utena is all about.

"I… They are black and lilac? If they were white, maybe it would mean—"

"Sure, because there are no dark magical girls or anything," I tell her with as flat a tone as I can manage without making Yukino cry.

"I've had them for years! I wore them on a whim! I swear I didn't mean to seduce you and wasn't thinking about that when I dressed up this morning!"

"So it is just a coincidence that the day you offer me a ride home and end up taking me to the breakwater as night falls, to [the very place we had our first kiss on], you are wearing [yuri-themed underwear?"]

Her eyes open wide enough to raise her eyebrows by themselves, and she takes a brief look around herself before she pales just enough that her blush goes away.

Then she swallows and dips her head in the shyest nod I've ever seen outside of a mirror during rehearsal time.

"Fine. I believe you," I say.

"Really?" she answers, the light of hope returning to her eyes.

And I suppress a smile.

"Shizu, are you asking me if I believe you would put on an elaborate show of kindness and caring just to make me defenselessly open while all the way you wore sexy underwear meant just for me to stare at as you ravished my body and took another of my firsts? Are you asking me if I would be an innocent prey for you to slake your lusts on? Are you telling me that I'm too trusting, that I should be wary of lowering my guard with you? I'm sorry, Shizu, but that's impossible! After all… I never put it up in the first place."

She… blinks.

And then I've got a tongue inside my mouth.

And her free hand, the one that isn't filming me as the backrest falls down and I quickly follow it with an eeping noise that Shizu swallows entirely, has just raised my pink bra, the cups crumbling above my breasts right as she finds one of my pink nipples and brushes it with the soft pads of her fingers as her warm palm molds my shape, makes me rise up, spread below her, bulge out between her fingers, and my eyes flutter almost open before she tightens her grasp on me and I close them tightly, moaning in the agony of wanting [more].

She's above me, taller than me, stronger than me, able to do with me whatever she wants, however she wants it, and it's just like it is with him, except just different enough that I can't compare them, that I want them [both], that I yearn for his chest beneath my back and his cock right inside of me as she pushes me down and takes my breath, my voice, my words away.

And Haruno would be by the side of my head, naked, looking down at me with that condescending grin of hers, sitting on crossed legs as she just enjoyed the spectacle we three would put on for her as they devoted themselves to making me cry out until my mind blanked and I could only look up into lavender, mocking eyes that would still be tender, that would still hold me down as my climax washed away before lowering her mesmerizing, wet lips to whisper in my ear that it was now her turn to make me lose my mind while they recovered just so my body wracked with ecstasy would not have a chance to rest and recover as they passed me around between the three of them until morning came and I fell into warm, welcoming darkness.

But that's not now. The fantasy I've been touching myself to sleep over the past few days is not here, inside this car that smells like two moaning women. No, I'm here, alone with Shizu, and she's more than enough to make me whimper desperately needy moans that she hungrily takes inside of her as her hand leaves my breast aching for her touch before trailing lines of fire down my belly, going over my bunched up skirt, and once again diving past the elastic of my panties.

Except, this time around, it's not my ass that she grabs.

I don't need delicacy.

I've been speared open by him, my whole body shaped to better be able to take him, my depths pushed and prodded, my lips stretched around him. And, long before that, I'd experimented with my own fingers until my mind went white, and I hated myself a little bit at Hayato's face blurring out to leave behind the sharp eyes of a man who always saw right through me and made me quiver on the inside.

I don't need probing gentleness. I can take anything she wants. She could thrust her fingers right inside of me, and I would whimper against her lips as my back arched with the blast of sheer pleasure shoving my thoughts away.

I could take her wrist twisting around, her palm slapping against my clitoris in a rhythmic staccato. I've done it to myself often enough since they truly awakened this part of me, and I've yearned for the release of being full, fulfilled. Not alone.

I don't need… I don't need Shizu to be impossibly tender, gentle as only he has been with me before. I don't need her to make me this emotional, to bring me almost to tears as she slides right over my folds, barely brushing me, my skin only clinging to hers through my wet coating. I don't need to be cared for like this, like she's holding something precious between hands she fears too clumsy.

I don't need to feel so… treasured.

Except that's a lie.

Because I do.

And I feel moisture between my eyelids as the overwhelming love hits me, as I can convince myself that all these caring, wonderful things washing over me are hers and hers alone, that she's somehow showering me not just with the pleasure of her touch and warmth, but with her own feelings, and that they are more beautiful than I could've ever dreamed.

I slide my hands below her shirt, and, to my shame, I don't even think to grope her breasts, those very same breasts I shared my first kiss with. No, I just surround her with my arms, hoping to give back even a fraction of what she's giving me as I feel the muscles of her back shift beneath my touch with every rippling undulation of her torso above mine.

Then… Then she leans back, her eyes meeting mine, [burning] into mine, even as her fingers dip inside of me, and I bite my lip not to cry out as the heel of her palm presses down on me, rubbing in a circle that has her go in and out of me.

"You are… beautiful. So much more than you realize," she says.

And I, eyes on the brink of letting out the tears I desperately try to hold back, lip already hurting at teeth struggling to do the same with the howl of emotions she's bringing out of me…

I claw at her back, her eyes briefly closing as I make her shudder, her fingers twitching deeper inside of me.

And I fall.

Something roars from below my belly up to my head, shoving aside everything in its way until it reaches my head, and it leaves behind only wracking waves of pleasure and fulfillment, only the sensation of being… with her.

Cared for. Loved.

Whole.

It… I don't know how long it takes me to regain my sight because the beige, fuzzy ceiling of her car blurs in and out of the white in my mind for some time before I realize that I'm staring, that I see once again.

And she's…

She's on top of me, resting her face beside my jaw, her hand out of my panties, and gently resting on my breast without any kind of sexual intent in the tender gesture.

For a brief, absurd moment, I feel [offended].

Then she kisses along my jawline, and I melt.

"Should I… stop recording?" she asks.

And I turn down to look into grey eyes that are never this warm except when I look at her in the videos I have of her.

The videos where she's with him.

There's a silly smile struggling to take over my face, and little tears about to burst, and…

And I…

"You…. You don't want me to… to…?" I manage to almost ask.

Warm lips that currently don't taste of tobacco brush over mine, her eyes taking up my entire world.

"Not today. Today is about you, Iroha… and I think you should rest."

I manage to look aside at where her arm quivers while holding up a recording phone for longer than I've been aware of.

I smile at it.

"She's too good, you know?" I tell the only other two people who will ever see me like this. "Not… Not just the sex part, but… as a person. Of course you know. That's how we fell for her, wasn't it? But… Oh, I'm babbling, and emotional, and a wrecked mess, and…"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping it will somehow do that magic thing everyone seems to believe it's supposed to do and calm me down.

It doesn't.

But I still manage to open my eyes back and stare right at the objective.

"Hachi… Haruno… Next time… How about we all take some revenge?" I tell them with my best foxy grin.

Shizu chokes on her own saliva on top of me, her clothed breasts rubbing against my still-sensitive nipples, and my grin spreads.

***

She takes some time to let me rest, and then she fusses with my clothes and hair, making sure I'll look as presentable as I can actually be.

And I let her.

It should be annoying. It should be demeaning. Infantilizing.

It's just… [her].

And I love her.

I feel that point has already been made.

Then she drives me back home, stopping a block away so Mom won't spy me getting off a sports car and ask uncomfortable questions, and this is where we part ways for the day after… after my first time with a woman.

With my first girlfriend.

And it should be climatic. Momentous. Something dramatic and memorable.

"See you tomorrow," I tell her as I lean over the division between our seats to lay a single, gentle, barely there kiss on her lips that she answers by leaning forward before whispering her own, "Tomorrow."

And so it is.

Climatic. Momentous. Dramatic and memorable.

Because I stand in the middle of the road, watching her drive away with my heart beating harder than it has since… Since not that long ago, actually, but that was also all of those things, even if they weren't aimed at her.

So I let myself enjoy the moment, the lingering melancholy of an absence of mere minutes, before I turn away to walk the last few steps toward my home.

Then I stop suddenly.

And sniff my clothes.

… That smell like old tobacco.

Sighing yet again, I take out my phone and see if I can do a couple quick edits to my latest video as I start an early night stroll along my neighborhood, waiting for the late winter's breeze to take away the scent of cigarettes, a sports car…

And two women mingling with one another.

==================

This work is a repost of my second oldest fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/all-right-fine-ill-take-you-oregairu.15676/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 85 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).

Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Brain-chan's intrusions into Hachiman's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance

Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: aj0413, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and help me keep writing snarky, maladjusted teenagers and their cake buffets, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!


Chapter 59: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 56

It is said that history repeats itself. If that is the case, then anime is history.

The rival who struggles to catch up to the oblivious shounen protagonist, only to briefly surpass him as a prelude to the latest bullshit power-up? The main girl who's about to realize her 'true' feelings only for the male lead to do something so boneheadedly stupid that the tsundere is reluctantly forced to go back to the harshest possible tsun setting just to preserve the dredges of her remaining dignity? The exasperated barber yet again failing to convince his client to get a regular haircut and stop being a walking eye hazard with all the shounen pointiness? All of those repeat, nay, [echo] through the ages, reflecting a rhythm deeper than man's consciousness, a truth we're all unaware of knowing.

If history is a circle, anime is a kamehameha.

And don't even get me started on filler episodes…

"I'm sorely tempted to guess whatever it is that's going through that intriguing head of yours," Haruno, sitting on the other side of the round, marble table in this intimately cozy Italian restaurant, says with the kind of smile I've learned to both fear and adopt Male Teenager Standard Gait Number Two in front of.

"Mostly, that we seem to have a thing for meeting in cafes where the waitress looks weirdly at us," I say, not at all staring over Haruno's shoulder at the woman enthusiastically gossiping to the stoic man behind the counter who Iroha insisted on introducing me to.

Natsumi. Because she's named cast now, and may God have mercy on her soul.

Tearing my eyes off the poor, unsuspecting woman, I instead focus on those of Haruno in front of me, who sends me a lopsided smirk before slowly raising her cup of cappuccino to plush lips that I learned not that long ago how soft they were and presses the rim on them just enough to make a shadowed, noticeable dent on them that draws my eyes before she takes a [slow] sip of the foam that only ends when she deigns to lick it off in a way that I'm pretty sure wasn't optimized for efficacy.

Or, well, not [hygienic] efficacy.

"Between you and Iroha, I'm pretty sure I'll never get erectile dysfunction," I groan.

"Poor Shizu, yet again excluded from—"

"She doesn't spend a substantial amount of her waking hours trying to come up with new ways to make standing straight painful for me, no."

"Right. She just does it naturally."

I… Slowly blink at Haruno.

And nod.

Which, obviously enough, means she ends up chuckling.

"All right, we've already established you're doomed—"

"As if you'd fare much better without me as a meat shield—"

"I don't know, my dear Hachiman; at least I wouldn't have to fend with [myself]."

Her smug smile is…

OK, fine, two can play at being infuriatingly sexy.

I hope.

['Why don't you start drinking seawater already? At least that dehydration will go faster.']

Shut up, Brain-chan. I'm about to do something incredibly clever.

['… Why do you hate me so much? I've been with you since the very beginning!']

Precisely.

['Right. I just walked into that one.']

"This is when you do something ridiculously over the top, isn't it?" Haruno asks before deliberately and meticulously licking along the rim of her cup.

Which is when I slide a shoe off and trail my socked toes up the inside of her right leg.

Her eyes fly open, and the cup almost tilts far enough to spill her capriciously expensive, yet not Max, coffee.

Heh. Still got it.

"We are in public," she hisses.

"And you're wearing a skirt," I reasonably counter.

Her eyes narrow.

"Two can play at this game," she says, the muscles of her inner thigh shifting below my touch.

"Well, yes, but where's the challenge in that?" I offer with a shrug.

And she… stops.

It takes me a great deal of effort not to show her my inner, gleeful grin.

"The challenge?"

"Yes. The challenge."

"The one you still haven't come up with and are desperately stalling in hopes of getting a burst of inspiration for?"

"Haruno, as unbelievably erotic as I find your detective routine, and as much as I want to get you in a deerstalker and nothing else, sometimes you overestimate your abilities."

"Is this one of those times?"

"Of course not, but I feel you should hear it from someone who cares about you rather than facing the cruel possibility of failure alone."

She stares at me.

Then she throws her head back and barks an inappropriately loud laugh that dies a sudden death when I push past the edge of her seat and my big toe presses against something tender and yielding.

"So, ready for your challenge?" I placidly ask.

['You'll die an early death and have the gall to be surprised.']

Well, I hope not. That would mean I would be aware of my own demise, which implies I will have done a poor job of enraging my murderers enough that they don't even bother with torture if it means keeping me alive for even one more second.

"Let's hear it," Haruno says, biting her lip as I start pulsing my pressure on what I'm pretty sure is her clitoris.

"We have a nice chat, you're as witty and smart as you ever are, and, if you manage not to give any signs that you're cumming before the end of the date, it's my loss."

"Well, aren't you confident," she says, laying her hands flat on the table and staring at me while remaining purposefully still.

"I'm pretty sure it's more brain damage and lack of self-preservation at this point, but I'm also quite certain that it turns you on."

['Fuck you.']

"… So that's what this is?"

I raise an inquiring eyebrow, wondering what she's talking about.

And then there's a bare foot between my legs.

"So… you're surrendering?" I say, not at all sweating as I try to keep my eyes on Haruno while pretending the rest of the restaurant doesn't exist.

"No, I'm changing the game. Do you wanna hear what's the new one?" She's… barely moving her foot, just resting it along the inside of my thigh, on top of the thing that shouldn't be pushing up the fabric of my long-suffering pants, and with barely any pressure as her eyes hold mine down, as lavender bewitches me like honey and steel do.

I pick up my own cup of coffee. An expresso.

Without milk or industrial amounts of sugar.

I can barely hold back my contempt. Which is as reliable a way to break her spell as I can come up with.

"Sure," I tell her, slowly rubbing warm panties that haven't ceased being accessible for a single moment.

"OK, the new game is… We leave this place, and I find one where you won't [dare] try to make me cum."

I blink at her.

"You do realize I've been going out with Iroha longer than I have with you?" I ask her.

And then she presses just a tiny bit, agile toes making me go cross-eyed as she bites her lip and lets out the barest hint of a moan that makes me curl my toes.

The ones currently resting against her panties, to be precise.

"Is that you surrendering?" she asks with cheeks a tad flushed.

And I…

['You're a moron. You're a moron who's about to add more evidence to the theory that stupidity can be a terminal disease.']

"Bring it," I tell her with a confident grin I don't feel.

Behind Haruno, a waitress who I'm dearly hoping can't see what's going on beneath the table keeps fidgeting as her boss sighs in exasperation.

***

"You're cheating. This is not me losing; this is you cheating," I tell a smug Haruno with a glare that's about as intense as my blood-deprived brain can make it.

['Don't you get me involved in this!']

"So quick to accept defeat," she says with a sigh, resting the back of her hand against her forehead in sheer melodrama.

"I did no such thing. I precisely did the opposite of that."

"Does that mean you're going to—"

"Fuck, no," I immediately answer.

And, with another affected sigh, Haruno unlocks the door to the one place where I'm not confident about my skill to make her become the main heroine in the kind of doujin where witnesses are never a concern.

That is: Yukino's apartment.

"Cheating," I grumble one last time as I step inside and—

It's empty.

Yukino's apartment is empty, and I'm in here with Haruno, who just locked the door behind her.

… I think I need an adult.

['Hold me; I'm scared.']

"I want it on record that whatever happens is without my consent, and I can't be held Yukinoshitally liable for it."

She turns me around, shoves her tongue inside my mouth, threads her fingers through my hair, and pushes me across the hallway and the living room until we both fall on top of Yukino's white sofa, Haruno's soft body on top of mine.

Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm kissing her back, my hands beneath her coat as she struggles to take it off without separating from me, and my left leg is pushing between hers, pressing against that same warmth I rested my toe on moments ago, before a tortuously long walk that was peppered with furtive stops in dark alleys to exchange more brief kisses than I ever thought I would get in a lifetime, but that keep being not enough. Not when it's Haruno, whom I just recently learned to love and be loved by.

Shizu is… Shizu. Tender, mature, childish. A contradictory charm. A straightforward enigma. Someone who I am connected to in ways that feel almost sacred. Someone who helped me become who I am.

Iroha is… It's impossible not to love her. Not to give back everything she so willingly presents to me. Every kindness and tenderness, every disguised, veiled, or overt declaration. She's… She's Iroha. My Iroha.

Yet Haruno…

She has something of Yukino in her, much as she's loath to admit it, and Yukino was my first love for a reason. Yet… That's not it. That's a part of it, but one small enough that I can avoid hating myself over it. Because Haruno is… Haruno is, first and foremost, herself. Defiantly so.

In that way, we also fit.

So, when she leans back, when she sits down on top of me, throwing her head back to make her hair flare around her, grinding her hips atop of me as she grabs my hands, lacing her fingers between mine and pulling them up…

"I love you," I say.

And Haruno, eyes still wild, coat undone and hanging off her shoulders, green sweater raising and falling with breasts beautiful enough I could stop myself from kissing them if it meant admiring them just one more second… Pauses.

"I love you," I say. "And I love that cruel part of you as well. Because I know where it comes from. I understand what it is. I… I [share it]. And you know that as well, but there's a difference between knowing and hearing."

Her eyes are on mine, lavender searching for something that she's rarely found.

Until, finally, she comes back down, soft breasts resting against my chest, her cheek on mine, and the warm air of her breath making me shudder worse than any winter wind.

"I love you," she repeats.

I keep holding her right hand, but I let go of the left one so I can hug her. So I can wrap an arm around her waist and press her harder against me.

And I stare at Yukino's ceiling, holding Yukino's sister, and knowing perfectly well Yukino herself is being ravished by Yui at this very moment.

I still know crossing this line would hurt her.

As does Haruno.

But I think she knew perfectly well how this would turn out before we arrived. She knew that I wouldn't go through with it. That I wouldn't do this secretly cruel thing, no matter how tempting the woman in my arms or how remote the possibility of anyone ever finding out.

She knew. But there's a difference between knowing and hearing.

As there was a difference between joking with me about entering a love hotel before her date with Shizu… and seeing me panic and refuse. Because the kind of knowledge Haruno has is one that's always filled with self-doubt and recrimination. It's the knowledge of someone who knows there's something wrong with them, that their certainty may not find the right world to be fulfilled in.

It's knowledge that needs… Trust but verify, some say, not knowing how much harder it is when you can't even trust yourself.

So I caress her hair, marveling once more at how soft it is, at how my hand glides over it, how I can't find a single tangle in the short locks.

And she turns to kiss my cheek with more shyness than when she gave herself to me.

"OK. You wanted to have a serious talk," she says, pretending to grumble even as a small shiver goes through her and over me. "Let's hear what's your latest plan."

I pull her a bit tighter, just… just feeling her body filling that aching void I sometimes find in front of my chest, that thing I never knew could be mended by another person, much less three of them, and kiss the top of her head.

She giggles.

And I smile.

"Well, I was thinking that… Iroha and Shizu didn't send us a video the other day, and I understand their issues, but… maybe we could prepare something special for them? This weekend?"

Haruno shifts on top of me until her palms are on my chest and her chin on the back of her fingers.

She's… staring at me.

"You must be the only man alive for whom planning an orgy is not only a heartfelt gesture of love and devotion but an anxiety-inducing ordeal," she finally says, the eye-rolling implicit in her tone.

"And that's why you love me?" I ask her with an uncertain smile. Knowing, yet wanting to hear.

She stares at me.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose that's part of it."

Then she turns her head to rest her face on my chest, her hands now on my back, and refuses to do anything but nuzzle me for almost twenty minutes.

I pretend to complain.

She pretends to aggravate me.

And I fall just a bit more in love with her.

==================

This work is a repost of my second oldest fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/all-right-fine-ill-take-you-oregairu.15676/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 85 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).

Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Brain-chan's intrusions into Hachiman's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance

Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: aj0413, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and help me keep writing snarky, maladjusted teenagers and their cake buffets, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!


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