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His tongue swirled and lapped at your neck running over all of the places that made you
shiver and clamp your mouth shut to keep from moaning.

God, did it feel good to be pinned down by him.

Having his hands roam down your back and your sides, occasionally brushing dangerously close to your breasts, savoring your taste with his mouth as it slides across every available crevice. . .

. . .

It wasn't like him at all.

. . .

Shall I start from the beginning?

Life with Kiku Honda was quite enjoyable to say the least. Not only was he the cutest, sweetest guy you could have ever asked for, but he was smart and good-looking too. To put it simply, he made it very, very, easy for you to fall head-over-heels in love with him.

The Japanese man was very sexually enticing at times that it was almost unbearable to keep yourself away from him.

Oh, yes, the painful distance.

The way his cropped brown hair brushed against the nape of his neck; the way his lips stood out, so soft, pink, and touchable; the way he would smile at you with his deep brown eyes; the gentle, almost hesitant aura he carried with him, you loved it all. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to touch him, to have him kiss you, to have him want to touch you.

Okay, sorry, day-dreaming again. . . .

This is mostly because Kiku doesn't really like intimate or affectionate touches. Kiku doesn't high-five, bro-fist, European kiss, Christian side-hug . . .

It's a lost cause, really. The boy's too shy.

And of course you had to find this aspect attractive as well.

Cue the unnecessarily large sigh.

Though, you really loved to tease the man.

Like, okay, as an example, he's a closet pervert, and you both know it. He keeps very, very, dirty hentai manga stacked in the dozens on the shelf in his closet.

So when you say "Closet pervert" . . .

It's literal.

So, you like to poke fun at him by buying your own small stack of dirty yaoi manga, and
hiding them all over of the house.

Oh, you wanted some cereal?

Here, have yaoi.

Socks from the sock drawer?

Take some yaoi instead.

Garbage disposal?

Ha, Enjoy some hard-core—Okay, actually that one back fired pretty badly. . .

But you get the point.

While he was out today, you decided it would be interesting to switch his books from the
closet with your own and see how long it would take him to notice the new arrangement.

But as the mythological Greek gods would have it, the second you slid the first pile of
hetero-sexual illustrated porn off of the shelf, he was standing in the doorway, blushing
like a mad-man.

"A-ah, what are you doing?"

Busted.

"W-would you believe me if I said I was cleaning out your closet?"

He ran his fingers roughly through his hair and sighed before regaining stern eye-contact
with you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Had he always been this close?

Less than a foot away, the serious Japanese man was acting strangely out of character.

His eyes carried a severe hunger as his tongue traced his outer lip, salivating.

He leaned forward, whispering in your ear words that caused your whole face light up in
deep shades of pink—

"Will I have to punish you for going where you don't belong?"

. . .

And that's how you got into the situation you're in now.

On his large king bed, trying your best to hold back moans and delightful sighs while you
lay trapped beneath the Japanese man, tightly straddling your waist.

Not like you minded, of course.

The way he was kissing the sensitive spots on your jaw bone, nipping your ear and
trailing rough and gentle kisses down to your chest made your stomach tie up in euphoric
knots.

All of this made you very, very glad that you had decided on wearing a short summer dress
today.

. . .

. . .

. . . .

"Hey Kiku~?"

"Mhhm?"

You buried your face in his chest, hiding a blush.

"I may have to go in your closets more often~."

You accidentally slipped your leg between his thighs, emitting a low growl from him.

"K-Kiku?"

. . .

Oh, boy, did he agree.