Love Learned at Midday
On the dining table, a cake plate and the identification card she had just received sat side by side.
The Saintess moved about the living room wearing nothing but one of the Hero’s T-shirts.
The shirt was far too big for her. The shoulder seams slipped down, the sleeves covered the backs of her hands, and the white fabric that fell past her thighs swayed lightly with every step.
At first, simply standing in the living room dressed like that had been enough to set the tips of her ears burning.
Now, even when the hem brushed her thighs she no longer flinched at once, and she could fold her bare legs on the sofa without her breath locking up first.
The Hero sat on the sofa reading a book.
The Saintess spotted a fork that had fallen beneath the table.
“Ah.”
Without much thought she bent at the waist.
The hem of the T-shirt rode up over her thighs.
Bare skin, free of any undergarment, was laid bare in the midday light. Because of the way she was bent, the white brightness reached the insides of her thighs, and for the briefest instant it even grazed the deeper shadow between her legs.
Behind her, the sound of a page turning stopped.
The Saintess picked up the fork and turned her head.
“Hero?”
There was no answer.
The Hero had frozen with the book still in his hands.
His fingers gripping the page had gone tight.
Only then did the Saintess notice how high the shirt had ridden up her thighs.
Her body was still bent, and the fabric had climbed higher than she had realized.
And beneath it there was nothing at all.
Her face flushed hot in an instant.
“I…”
The moment she tried to straighten, the Hero set the book down.
A small sound reached the side table by the sofa.
He stood.
Without a word he came straight to her.
The Saintess went rigid, still holding the fork.
“Hero…”
He stepped up behind her.
In the next breath his arms closed around her.
“Ah—”
Her breath jumped.
The chest pressed to her back was hot.
Through the single layer of the shirt she could feel the beat of his heart—faster and lower than usual. With every thump the heat at her back drew nearer.
Startled, the Saintess hunched her shoulders.
As the warmth behind her closed in, the fingertips that held the fork stiffened.
The Hero’s breath brushed her ear.
“Ria.”
His voice was low.
Her lips parted slightly.
“Yes…”
For a moment the Hero said nothing.
It was the living room in broad daylight.
There was nowhere to hide the way there might have been at night.
The plate on the table, the teacup, the fork she had just set down—everything remained exactly as it was.
In the midst of it all, only the Hero’s arms held her firmly from behind.
His hands had stopped in front of her waist.
The breath at her back was rough, and the heat of his palms came clear through the shirt.
The tips of the Saintess’s ears burned hotter still.
The Hero spoke shortly.
“I can’t hold back.”
The Saintess’s face grew even hotter.
The words had been too brief.
That was why they were so clear.
Behind her the Hero’s body had gone hard and taut.
Heat through the thin fabric of his pants pressed against her lower back, and his breathing was rougher than usual.
The Saintess set the fork down on the table.
A small metallic sound rang out.
She swallowed a breath.
The fingertips that had released the fork were still trembling.
The closer the heat at her back came, the more the flush climbed from her face down her nape.
Carefully, the Saintess laid her own hand over the back of his.
The Hero’s breath shuddered against her spine.
His hand still rested in front of her waist.
She hesitated a moment.
Then she tightened her grip on the back of his hand.
And guided it inside the shirt.
The fabric shifted upward a little.
Holding his hand, she led it slowly across her stomach and up beneath her ribs. The instant it met the soft curve beneath her breast, the Hero’s hand stopped.
This time the Saintess herself drew it higher.
His palm met bare skin.
Her shoulder gave a small tremor.
The Hero’s breath caught.
The Saintess lowered her eyes.
“Slowly, please.”
Her voice was small.
After she spoke, her face flushed deeper still.
But she did not let go.
She guided his hand up over her breast.
The Hero’s palm carefully cupped her.
Her breath fluttered short.
The more his fingertips hesitated, the more sensitively every place they touched seemed to tingle.
When he seemed about to ease the pressure, she pressed her fingers against the back of his hand.
“Like that…”
The end of the word trembled.
“Keep going.”
The pressure around her breast grew a little more certain.
His palm settled just deep enough not to lose her.
The Saintess closed her eyes.
The warmth at her back drew closer still.
Inside the shirt the Hero’s palm gently kneaded her breast.
At first the touch was light, and the strength soon faded.
Each time his hand threatened to leave, her body only grew more tightly sensitive.
She caught the back of his hand again.
“Slowly, please.”
Her voice shook at the end.
“But… keep going.”
The Hero’s breath trembled low against her back.
The pressure around her breast returned.
This time it did not merely brush past.
He held her fully in his palm, pressing slowly and then releasing.
Her breath followed the motion in short, uneven pulls.
“Ah…”
The sound slipped out first.
She bit her lip.
When the Hero’s hand slowed, the Saintess, head bowed, pressed more firmly on the back of it.
“Please don’t stop.”
Her breath trembled.
“Just a little… more clearly.”
The Hero’s answer came first as breath.
The hand cupping her breast deepened again.
More slowly.
More distinctly.
Her breast was pressed softly inside his palm and then released.
Before she knew it her back was leaning more deeply into his chest.
His fingertips caught on her nipple.
“Nnh—”
Her shoulder jumped slightly.
She caught his wrist.
“There…”
Her breath broke.
Her face was burning.
“Don’t press right on it… start around it, please.”
The Hero’s palm covered her whole breast again.
He did not touch the nipple directly, but passed around it.
He pressed and released, cupped her in a slow circle, then brushed the peak once more with deliberate care.
Her breathing grew shallower and shallower.
“Yes…”
Her eyes closed.
“Like that.”
The Hero’s lips touched the nape of her neck.
Her body trembled faintly.
At that tremor the strength left his hand.
Her own hand was the first to catch the back of his again.
She drew the retreating hand back toward herself.
The Hero’s breath caught.
“Ria.”
The Saintess only moved her lips.
She answered with her hand instead.
His fingertips found her nipple once more.
This time they did not merely graze it.
Slowly enough that she could match her breath to it, yet with unmistakable clarity, he rubbed.
“Ah… ha…”
She bowed her head.
Strength seemed about to leave her knees.
At once the Hero’s other arm supported her beneath the waist.
The arm that held her from behind grew firm.
Leaning into that strength, she drew ragged breaths.
“There…”
Her voice loosened, small.
“It feels good.”
After she spoke, her face flared hot.
Yet this time she did not want to take the words back.
The Hero’s hand continued more clearly still.
He did not lose the place she had named, retracing it at the same pace.
Her breast was slowly pressed and released inside his palm.
The fingertips that found her nipple grew more precise.
She pressed the back of his hand, holding onto the speed of a moment ago.
“Just like that…”
Her breath trembled.
Her fingers pressed more deeply into the back of his hand.
The Hero’s lips came down near her ear.
“Mm.”
It was a short answer.
At that single word her waist swayed faintly again.
For a while the Hero’s hand followed her breathing over her breast.
Whenever her breath faltered he slowed; whenever she pressed the back of his hand he continued.
There were not many words.
She told him with her hand.
He followed the strength of that hand.
The midday light spread red across her closed eyelids.
Inside the shirt it was already warm, her breath was shallow, and the Hero at her back was far closer than usual.
Still holding his hand, the Saintess guided it downward.
From her breast to her stomach.
Past the lower edge of her ribs, over the tense plane of her belly.
When the Hero’s palm met her stomach she swallowed a breath.
The hand did not descend at once.
Because of the heat that paused there, strength entered her fingertips.
Her own hand was the first to draw his wrist lower.
The Hero’s breath shuddered roughly against her back.
“Ria.”
At that voice her fingertips stopped.
But she did not let go.
“I’ll… guide you.”
That was all she managed to say.
When she stopped, he stopped as well.
Only when she pulled his wrist again did his hand follow downward.
His palm passed below her stomach and came to rest on her thigh.
At the temperature of the hand meeting bare skin, her leg trembled reflexively.
Her knees tried to close.
Flushed, she held his hand for a moment.
Then she set it again on the outer side of her thigh.
“From here, please.”
The words were short.
The Hero’s palm first carefully stroked the outer curve of her thigh.
He pressed the flesh and released it, then came inward again.
She let out a breath.
Matching that breath, his hand drew nearer to the inside.
“Ha…”
This time she was the one who eased her legs a little apart.
Shame made her whole body burn.
Even so her knees did not close completely.
Her hand still held his wrist.
The Hero’s hand came closer along the inside of her thigh.
When it met the softer skin there, her other hand gripped the back of the sofa.
Strength entered her fingertips.
“The outside first…”
“Mm.”
His low answer brushed her.
His palm came farther inward.
When she swallowed a breath he slowed; when she exhaled he drew a little nearer.
Heat gathered between her legs.
She bowed her face.
The hem of the shirt had already been pushed up past her waist.
Beneath it, the Hero’s hand rested exactly where she herself had led it.
“Hero.”
“Mm.”
“I…”
Her voice was buried in her breath.
It was too embarrassing.
Even so her hand was still seeking farther inward.
She gripped his wrist and guided it deeper.
The Hero’s breath stopped.
His fingertips passed the inner thigh and brushed the edge of the wet flesh between her legs.
“Nnh—!”
Her body trembled hard.
At first he carefully stroked only the outer surface.
Each time slick moisture clung to his fingertips, her breath broke short.
She tightened her grip on the sofa back.
She caught his wrist again.
She turned the direction of his fingertips inward.
The fingertips that had been gliding over wet flesh returned to the place where her breath had first broken.
“There…”
Her voice trembled.
The Hero’s fingertips slowed.
She shook her head.
“No… please don’t stop.”
Her breathing quickened.
“Just like that… a little more.”
His fingertips passed slowly over the wet flesh once more.
Very slowly.
Without losing that place, he retraced it in a long stroke.
Her waist swayed faintly inside his arms.
Her body flinched as if to escape, yet in the next moment she gripped his wrist more deeply still.
“Ah… haa…”
The sounds grew clearer and clearer.
She could not swallow them.
The Hero’s arm supported her more firmly beneath the waist.
Once her body was held by that strength, the place his fingertips touched became even more distinct.
“It feels good.”
The words came out on their own.
This time she could not even hide her face at once.
Her breath was too short.
Her body was too hot.
“There… just like a moment ago.”
The Hero’s fingertips passed that place slowly again.
Her legs opened a little farther.
Without realizing it, the hand holding his wrist drew him deeper still.
“Ah, Hero…”
Her voice rose.
His breathing roughened as well.
Behind her the Hero’s body had gone hard and taut.
Strength entered the arm that supported her waist.
When that tension reached her, the heat inside her body deepened.
Breathing hard, she gripped his wrist more tightly.
“I’m getting wet.”
The Hero’s breath broke low against her back.
She bowed her face.
“Can you feel it?”
For a moment there was no answer.
Instead his arm held her waist more firmly.
“Yeah.”
It was a short reply.
That single word alone made her body burn deeper still.
She put strength into the hand that held his wrist.
She guided the fingertips that had been gliding over wet flesh a little higher.
“Here…”
Her voice was so small she had to swallow another breath.
“This is the most… sensitive place.”
The instant his fingertips met the little bud, her waist trembled hard inside his arm.
“Ah…!”
The sound burst out first.
He had only brushed it lightly, yet heat shot straight up from between her legs to her waist.
She clutched the back of the sofa.
“There… when you brush it like that…”
The words would not finish.
When the Hero’s hand seemed about to stop, she immediately caught his wrist.
“No… please don’t stop.”
Her face felt as if it would catch fire.
Even so she did not let go.
“Just a little more… there.”
His fingertips passed slowly over the little bud once more.
Her breath broke short.
The wetness grew thicker.
Each time his fingertips touched her, the inside of her body flinched first, and her thighs opened more easily than shame would have allowed.
“Hero…”
She guided his wrist again.
This time a little lower.
Past the wet edge, closer to the deeper place.
“Here too…”
Her voice trembled.
“Please touch me here too.”
The Hero’s breath stopped.
His fingertips carefully explored farther inward.
The moment the wet flesh closed around his finger, she bowed so deeply her forehead nearly met the sofa back.
“Hnn…”
She could not swallow the sound.
Each time his fingertip entered shallowly and withdrew, the inside of her body tightened in answer.
Startled by the sensation, she still did not release his wrist.
“Just a little… deeper, please.”
After she spoke her face burned hotter still.
Yet the hand holding his wrist did not lose its strength.
His finger pressed inward again.
The wet flesh accepted him, and the moment he reached near the deeper place her waist jumped faintly.
“Ah… there…”
Her voice shook.
“When you touch there… it feels even better.”
Strength entered the Hero’s arm.
As if determined not to lose the place she was guiding him to, he slowed the pace of his fingertips.
He brushed the little bud, passed the wet edge, and returned near the deeper place again.
As that sensation repeated, her words grew shorter and shorter.
“Ah… yes…”
Each time his finger stroked inside her, her body tightened first; each time he touched the bud, her breath jumped upward.
She could no longer bite her lip.
“Hero… I…”
The words were buried in a moan.
“It feels… so good.”
At those words the Hero’s breath broke.
She heard that sound against her back.
That alone gathered more heat between her legs.
She did not let go of his hand.
“Just a little more…”
Breath mixed with the words until the end of them nearly dissolved.
“Just like that.”
The Hero’s fingertips continued once more.
She no longer bit her lip.
The sounds that escaped scattered through the living room.
His arm supported her more firmly beneath the waist.
Inside that arm her body was still trembling faintly.
Even after the Hero’s hand withdrew, her legs did not close at once.
The wetness still lingered between them, and her waist trembled lightly inside his arm.
Catching her breath, she rested a hand on the back of the sofa.
“Hero…”
Her voice trembled small.
She took his hand and guided it behind her own waist.
Then she turned her body herself.
When she planted both hands on the sofa back, the hem of the shirt rode higher still past her waist.
The wet place between her legs was left bare in the midday light.
She swallowed a breath.
Shame made her knees feel ready to give way.
Yet her hands did not leave the sofa back.
“From behind… please.”
Her head bowed more deeply.
“I’ll… tell you.”
