A Clumsy Morning Gift
When the Saintess opened her eyes, the study was still dark.
Dawn light slipped thinly through the gap in the curtains, staining the spines of books and the edges of notebooks a pale blue.
Even after waking, Ria could not steady her breath for a moment.
When she shifted, the blanket slid from her shoulders. Soft fabric slipped down her arms.
Only then did the memories of the night before return.
The box of books. The exam notice. The sentence about the possibility of switching to residential classes. And the night spent carefully separating the standards of the other world from those of Earth.
In the dim study, the Hero’s low voice—remaining beside her until the very end—rose belatedly in her mind.
Ria lifted her head.
Books still lay open on the desk. Her own notebook remained exactly where she had left it. Beside it, the Hero’s notebook sat neatly aligned.
Next to the Earth expressions, small notes in words she could understand had been added; difficult administrative terms were underlined.
Ria touched the edge of the notebook with her fingertips.
Last night, the Hero had not filled in the answers she was meant to write. He had broken difficult words into simpler ones and given her time to rewrite them in her own language.
She slowly withdrew the hand that had been tracing the notebook’s edge.
Thank you was not enough. She wanted to reach him.
Ria carefully rose.
She was still dressed as she had been before falling asleep—the bra top and short lounge pants she had put on for comfort while studying. Her hair, pressed flat by sleep, spilled over her shoulders, and a faint mark from resting against the desk lingered on her cheek.
On the practice bed at one side of the study, the Hero slept leaning back. A folded notice hung loosely in one hand; the paper’s edge had left a faint imprint on his fingertips. One arm rested at his side, his breathing low and even.
Ria stood for a long while without moving from the bedside.
The person who had stayed beside her all through the night. The person who had kept her from shrinking before this unfamiliar world. He was breathing quietly, face soft with sleep.
Then her breath caught lower down.
Beneath the thin lounge pants, the morning’s response was unhidden. The loose fabric pulled awkwardly only there, and the wrinkles touched by dawn light stood out with unusual clarity.
The reason for that taut cloth registered a beat late.
Ria stopped breathing. She meant to turn her head away. But her fingertips reached first, catching the hem of his lounge pants.
The sensation she had accepted with her body in last night’s darkness now lay wordlessly before her eyes.
Her face flushed hot in an instant.
In the temple she had learned that pleasing a husband with one’s lips could also be a tender gift between husband and wife. Back then it had been enough to blush and turn the page. Now, instead of a page, the Hero slept before her in the dawn light. The body of the person she loved.
Ria carefully stood. The study floor was cold; the dawn air seeped through her thin clothes. As she drew near, his breathing grew clearer. He was still asleep.
She hesitated for a long time. Reached out, then withdrew. Gathered her fingertips again. They trembled.
She carefully brought her hands to the waistband of his pants. The moment she lowered the fabric, her heart pounded hard. Her fingertips trembled with it.
Holding her breath, she eased the cloth downward little by little.
The hot, rigid column that had been visible only through fabric now lay bare in the dawn air.
It was too close. Too vivid. Neither the pictures in books nor the explanations at the temple had ever conveyed body heat and breath this near.
She meant to bring her lips closer. The distance was close enough to touch. But her body locked first. She missed the timing of her next breath. The corners of her eyes burned.
Not yet.
The words never left her mouth. Ria shook her head, very small. Drawing near with her lips was still too difficult.
Her hands stopped beneath her own chest. The bra top, slightly askew from falling asleep while studying. Her breasts trapped beneath it.
Ria swallowed.
Even with this… would he feel good?
With trembling hands she caught the lower edge of the bra top. Simply lifting the fabric made her face burn. The undersides of her breasts appeared first; the flesh that had been pressed free slowly in the dawn air. Cold air touched her and her body gave a small shiver. When her nipples hardened in the chill, she swallowed again.
She wanted to cover herself once more. But her hands stayed gripping the cloth.
Even if she could not yet use her lips—perhaps this way, she could still touch him.
Ria carefully lowered herself. The hands gathering her breasts were clumsy. Her fingertips missed their place several times. Still she reset her posture.
The first contact of bare skin made her shoulders flinch. The hard column nestled between her breasts was clearer than she had expected. Soft flesh pressed around the unfamiliar firmness, and that heat reached straight into the center of her chest.
Her breath broke short.
“Ah…”
Startled by the sound she herself had made, she hastily sealed her lips. Still she did not let go.
At first she barely more than rested against him. Carefully she gathered both breasts with her hands and pushed upward, very slowly, from below. Each time soft flesh met and slid, the strength in her fingertips wavered.
Am I doing this right?
Her face grew hotter. Yet her hands kept moving. With that single resolve she gathered her breasts again and slowly pushed upward from below.
Then the Hero’s breathing changed.
Ria froze. At first she thought it was only a reaction in sleep. But soon his eyelids trembled and a low breath escaped.
“Ria…?”
A voice still thick with sleep. His eyes opened slowly.
Flushed cheeks and unsteady eyes registered first. Below them, Ria’s breasts—bra top pushed up—clumsily cradled his body. The white flesh gathered in unpracticed hands had grown a little disordered from the contact and pressure; between the sweat- and heat-dampened curves, firm pressure was deeply lodged. Pink nipples, hard, trembled faintly between the backs of her hands and the edge of fabric.
The Hero’s breath broke short. The heat trapped between her breasts pulsed deeper once more. That change reached straight to Ria’s fingertips and chest.
She went completely still. The pressure, clearer than a moment before, suddenly felt far too vivid.
“I’m sorry, I…”
She tried to pull away. In that instant the Hero’s fingers carefully closed around her wrist. The hand that had been withdrawing stopped where it was.
Ria lifted her head, breath held. His face was flushed as well. Surprise and fluster mixed in eyes only just awake. For a while he could not find words. After a locked breath shook deeply once, his hand slid a little lower from her wrist and covered the back of her hand.
“I’m happy.”
The corners of Ria’s eyes trembled. He slowly stroked the back of her trembling hand with his thumb. His breath scattered low.
“Keep going.”
She could not answer. Shame bowed her head. But her hands remained inside his.
A long moment later, a very small voice slipped free.
“…Yes.”
And she moved again.
The fact that he was awake made the hard heat between her breasts even clearer. Unable to raise her head, she carefully put strength into the hands gathering her chest.
When she gathered her breasts once more, hot weight nestled deeply between the soft flesh. The pressure pushing the flesh apart registered more distinctly than before.
The hands holding her breasts still lost strength often. At first they kept slipping out of place; she would hesitate, wondering if the pressure was too light. Each time they misaligned, the Hero’s breath broke short, then lengthened again. Listening to that sound, Ria adjusted the force in her hands.
His fingers clenched the edge of the sheet. That reaction spread all the way into the center of her chest.
She swallowed and again gathered her breasts, slowly pushing upward from below. This time the hardness nestled between soft flesh did not slip free.
Each time hot heat slid between her curves, a very low wet sound followed. The tips of Ria’s ears flushed scarlet in an instant.
“Ha… Ria.”
His breath spilled long. At the sound her fingertips trembled, yet this time she did not stop. Her face burned hotter. Even so her hands did not retreat. Instead they held him more firmly.
More than any sentence learned from a book, his breath, his trembling hands, and the eyes growing hazy toward her reached her first.
“Ria.”
The voice calling her name was frayed. Startled, she lifted her head.
“It feels good.”
At those words her face flared hot in an instant. She lowered her head again. She was too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Still she swallowed and put strength back into the hands gathering her breasts.
With trembling hands she pressed her chest more deeply together. Firmer. Closer.
Tension entered the Hero’s abdomen. The fingers gripping the sheet edge slipped once, then curled in again. His hips tried to follow a little and stopped. Ria felt that tremor through her fingertips. And before hesitation, she pushed upward from below once more.
“Ha…”
His breath broke low. Startled by the sound, her fingertips flinched. Her face grew redder still, yet she did not stop.
Again. A little faster. She put more careful strength into the hands holding her breasts. Between the soft flesh a wet sound continued low.
The Hero’s hand came to rest over the back of hers. Beneath that hand, Ria’s trembling eased a little.
“Just like that…”
His voice was low.
“A little more.”
Her own breathing began to quicken. Strength entered her arms. Her shoulders trembled. The Hero’s eyes closed. His breath shook deeply once. In front of that face she put strength into her hands again.
The heat trapped between her breasts rose and fell more naturally than at the start. She gathered them more firmly and pushed upward faster than before. Each time the hot pressure traveling between her curves deeply displaced the flesh, her own breath shortened. The gathered flesh moved together; her sensitive nipples brushed the backs of her hands and the edge of fabric.
“Ah…”
She swallowed a small sound without meaning to. Her face burned hot; strength filled her arms. Yet each time the Hero’s breath broke low, the fingertips that had been about to stop moved again.
Firmer. Closer.
Her breathing quickened to match that pace. The Hero’s hand could not release the sheet edge. His breath broke low, then continued. That alone was enough for her to keep moving.
“Is this… all right?”
Her voice trembled. His answer came as breath before words. The deeply shaken breath transmitted through her fingertips and between her breasts.
“Good… Ria.”
At that she squeezed her eyes shut and put strength into her hands once more. His fingers twisted into the sheet edge. His lips parted as if to steady his breath, but only her name escaped first.
“Ria…”
The voice was frayed. The heat nestled between her breasts pulsed deeper once more.
“I… think I’m going to come.”
Her hands stopped for an instant. The meaning of the words rose belatedly to her face. Her cheeks burned as if on fire. Her heart raced so hard her breath caught.
She lowered her head. Though her face blazed, more strength entered the hands gathering her breasts. Her arms trembled. Still she moved again. This time breath quickened ahead of hesitation.
She put strength into her arms and gathered her chest more deeply. Wet flesh met with soft, wet sounds.
“Ah… Ria, I…”
His hand clenched the sheet edge. When that sound and tremor reached her at once, she did not stop; she moved her body once more. Each time the hot pressure between her breasts shifted, a heavy pulse transmitted clearly all the way to her fingertips.
“Ria…”
His hand twisted into the sheet, then soon layered over the back of hers. Beneath that hand she pushed upward more deeply one last time. Breath grew short. Strength filled her shoulders. Still more. Once more.
The Hero’s breath collapsed deeply.
The next moment, hot wetness spread between her breasts. Heat touched bare skin first; soon a slick trace remained between the flesh she held. That heat slowly flowed down the valley of her chest and lightly coated her fingertips as well.
Ria stopped breathing. For an instant every sound in the study receded. The dawn light, the open books, the notebooks on the desk—all grew distant.
For a long while she could not release her hands. The thin slickness left between her breasts and on her fingertips made her recall the hands that had been moving only a moment before. Her face burned as if on fire.
“I…”
The words would not come.
The Hero looked at her while steadying his rough breath. His face was flushed as well. The dishevelment of just waking and the afterglow of a moment ago mixed together.
Ria’s shoulders hunched sharply. The bra top was still pushed up; bare breasts and fingertips still carried the traces of what had just happened. She was so embarrassed she could barely breathe.
The Hero reached out first. When she flinched in surprise, he wordlessly took the towel from beside them. The moment the towel touched her chest, her shoulders gave a small tremor. Strength left his fingertips. The towel rested lightly atop her breasts and moved slowly in time with the return of her breath.
Head bowed, Ria gripped the edge of the blanket.
“It’s a little… embarrassing.”
At those words he eased the strength in the hand holding the towel even further. Then, without speaking, he turned his head a little to the side. He waited so she could steady her breath, yet the hand holding the towel remained careful.
Ria parted her lips several times, then spoke in a very small voice.
“You can… look a little.”
A brief silence settled. The Hero looked at her again. The surprise of a moment ago still lingered, but his touch was low and careful. He did not move the hand holding the towel, waiting until her breathing settled.
“Ria.”
He called her name low.
“I love you.”
The corners of her eyes trembled. He said nothing more and moved the towel again. Carefully he wiped away the slick traces left between her breasts and on her fingertips.
Ria could not lift her head. Each time his hand reached her through the towel, his scent drew nearer. The faint tea scent she had caught beside the desk last night mixed with the warm smell of a body just waking from sleep. In that scent she quietly drew breath.
The tips of her ears were still hot; her fingertips still trembled. Not knowing what to do, she carefully laid her hand near the one holding the towel.
After wiping her carefully to the end, the Hero quietly lowered the hand holding the towel. Ria hesitated a moment, then carefully lowered the bra top and covered her breasts. Only then could she breathe.
Even after setting the towel down, his hand did not immediately withdraw. Very carefully she rested her fingertips near that hand. He at once enclosed her hand in his.
For a while he held that hand without speaking. Then he asked low,
“Shall we go wash together?”
Her fingertips flinched small inside his. The chest he had just cleaned grew hot again. Head still bowed, she lightly pressed her lips together. Instead, her fingers carefully slipped between his. His hand slowly closed around those fingers.
When she put strength into her fingers, he slowly helped her to her feet. On the way toward the bathroom, Ria held his hand more deeply than a moment before.
On the study desk the textbooks and notebooks from last night still lay open. Beside the desk where she had written exam vocabulary, Ria held the Hero’s hand tightly.
The dawn light had grown brighter.