After School Nightmare, Ichijo/Kureha: Their night together.
“Mashiro-kun, do you really want to play the prince the rest of your life? Don't you ever want to become a man?” Kureha had said, yearning for Ichijo to give her something more. To give her all of him. Ichijo instead took it as a challenge and that night, climbed the tree next to her balcony ala Romeo and wooed her like a prince.
All the things she said before, asking him to stop playing the role of a prince has vanished. She's trapped in the idea, the feel of being lavished as a princess. Ichijo kisses her, still perched in the tree and then she pulls away and steps back, inviting him into her room. The only man, that has ever entered her room. Ichijo steps towards her doesn't embrace her- he places a delicate kiss on her forehead, then lowers his head, inch by inch lips descend upon her body. She grips Ichijo's shoulders, they are wide enough to look masculine and at the same time, they are slender enough to be girlish. Shyly she reaches under his shirt and rubs his arms.
Ichijo's touch is as gentle as a woman's, so much that she scarcely notices her nightgown slipping from her body, and images of her childhood dissipate into the present. She doesn't feel scared, she feels light and warm, not just reached after and ravished but also reaching out for more. Their lips meet, like a prince Ichijo leads her in the dance towards her bed. He chuckles, a smirk spread across his face and comments that her wavy hair, spilled around her looks like a tiara. Her cheeks inflame, and he kisses her again, this time at her bosom and soon her whole body is blushing. As he kisses her he unclothes also, there is heat rising in Icijo's chest. He's about to be the second man to ever touch her this way, and the first to do it with chivalry.
When his mouth reaches the curls around her femininity her legs cross, not with alarm but embarrassment. “Mashiro-kun. . . I. .”
Another smile draws on Ichijo's features. “You're really cute, Kureha.”
Her thighs spread for him then. He starts with the tip of his tongue at her clit, Kureha shivers and calls his name meekly, inducing him to drag his tongue across again. By the time his fingers pry her entrance she's wet. She gasps and her opening widens for his fingers.
“You feel really good, Kureha.” Mashiro shifts his body over hers, his fingers moves around, searching for her ecstasy. He brushes against a rigged area, and laughs inwardly, proudly. Her arms are over her head and gripping the pillow and her legs languidly wrap around Ichijo's waist. Eventually she's moving unconsciously, rocking her hips in rhythm to Ichijo's fingers, and curling, uncurling, and squirming ferociously. Ichijo is amazed, breathless, never did he imagine her to be like this. To soak in pleasure like a sponge and ask for more, to want so much she's no longer thinking but moving. Whispering but inconsistently and mostly in moans. She was trying so hard before to hold her voice (careful not to wake persons in the dorm) but looses control of her voice, her entire body is tense but she feels unbound and light as air, and burning burning burning brightly, beautifully.
“Mashiro-kun. . .” She manages to speak. “Did I mention that you're awesome?” Ichijo pulls her close, silent but tickled by her comment.
Kureha lays a hand on Ichijo's chest, her lips part as she draws her hand down, intrigued. Her fingertips graze Ichijos abdomen and suddenly, what felt peaceful before brings Ichijo into a panic. Before Kureha discovers Ichijo's lower body, she's gripped by the wrist. Their eyes meet, Ichijo's scared, Kureha's are confused.
“Tonight was about you, Kureha.” Ichijo's eyes soften, forcing himself to look natural.
“Are you sure, Mashiro-kun. . .” She averts her eyes guiltily.