#Nomura why are you even in Himuro's office?
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Special Announcement
Hello, Hello, Hello~ Nomura here with a special announcement. Our very own Tyg has another project that she has been working on and recently expanded. Some of you also follow Texts From 2nd Unit, and if you haven’t go take a look.
She has expanded to also include the following:
Texts from Shinga (Sengoku Night Blood)
Texts From the Fairy Tale Castle (Once Upon a Fairy Love Tale)
Scrolls From Kyokatei(Ninja Assassin+)
Scrolls From Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy (Wizardess Heart)
Scrolls From Sengoku Warlords (SLBP)
And this very morning she launched two more:
Texts From Nobel Michel (BMP/ BMPP / BMP2)
Texts from Mina (Blood in Roses S1)
While these may look like a lot, she claims it’s not as taxing as being in the office with her beloved Misfits (she means it with great love, btw)
Nomura, get out of my office. Do your next announcements in yours!
#MPDCTY#Metro PD: Close to You#Tadanobu Nomura#Masashi Himuro#Admin Tyg#special announcement#I also have had one for the animanga Toriko#you can find its link on any of the blogs#Nomura why are you even in Himuro's office?
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‘Choosing Sides’ Part Twenty-seven - Why Are You Stopping?
It rained for three days without stop, and finally on the fourth, the sun came out. But warmth was stolen by solemnity, by the slow moving, darkly attired procession, weaving their way behind a shiny black hearse.
Kyobashi cast a sideways glance at Nomura, whose face was set like stone, his eyes fixed forward upon the flower covered coffin in the vehicle they trailed. Likewise, on his other side Kirisawa’s expression reflected the same concentrated stoicism, though others were already sobbing.
“I fuckin’ hate this shit,” Tennoji muttered under his breath, emotion threatening to spill over as everyone gathered at the gravesite.
“No one likes funerals,” Hanai hissed.
“Yeah, well I hate this one more than usual,” Tennoji sniffed.
Poignant words were spoken in voices choked by sorrow and grief – hands clenched into fists, desires flaring for revenge, eyes burning. And when the coffin lowered slowly, many who had held so tightly to their composure finally lost it.
“You going to the wake?” Kirisawa sighed when only a few people lingered in the cemetery, and Nomura rubbed his hand over his face in an uncommon display of exhaustion.
“No,” he exhaled, “but you guys go ahead.”
“Then you should get some rest,” Kirisawa suggested with a concerned frown. “You’ve hardly slept since…”
“I’ll sleep when…”
Then Nomura’s phone rang, and he answered to end the conversation.
“What?” he snapped, not even looking who the caller was, hell for all he knew it was a superior. “Just now? I’ll be right there.”
Kirisawa looked at him with a questioning eyebrow raised, but Nomura didn’t even look at him, he just turned and ran.
Unceremoniously, Nomura slammed his hand against the painted blue door and it swung inward, hitting the doorstop with a loud thud.
One head turned sharply, eyes narrowed judgementally, while the other looked over a lot more languidly.
“This is a hospital Deputy Chief,” Kaga dropped sourly.
But Kaga may as well not be in the room at all.
Nomura moved straight to the bedside, snatched up Miho’s hand and pressed his lips to the back of it.
“You make it pretty hard for a guy to look cool doing a rescue when you want to wrestle terrorists,” he told her breathlessly.
“We were having a moment,” Kaga frowned, and finally Nomura actually looked at him, eye to eye as the Captain stood.
“I appreciate you keeping her company, Captain,” Nomura smiled, thrusting his hand at the other man. “But I can take it from here.”
���Excuse me?” Kaga responded, frown becoming a scowl.
“I’m sure, no, I know you have terrorists to interrogate still,” Nomura added, his tone and expression unchanged, even as Kaga stood.
“Captain,” Miho said weakly, and Kaga looked down into her face, then back at Nomura before backing away.
The lines across his forehead remained, but he nodded; perhaps in that one word she’d spoken, the word she’d chosen to use, told him he’d lost for good, and her hand in Nomura’s indicated to whom.
With a nod, Kaga completed his strategic withdrawal without bluster, closing Nomura and Miho in the hospital room together. Silence ensued, the pair just looking at each other, until Nomura leaned down slowly, watching her face closely for any alarm.
“When I heard the shots,” he whispered, resting his weight on the hand he placed to one side of her pillow, “saw your body just… tumble…”
He swallowed, suddenly swept away by the memory.
“Miho!” Nomura yelled, firing upon the man Miho had been grappling with.
Other gunfire rang out, some belonging to the police, some the terrorists, but Nomura made a straight path, beyond the man he’d disabled, to where Miho’s body had come to a stop.
Face down.
At the water’s edge.
“No no no,” he shuddered, skidding down on his knees, tearing through the fabric of his suit pants. “Miho?”
Rolling her over revealed confirmation of what he’d seen and heard. Blood leaked through her blouse, soaked the material through.
“Answer me,” he demanded, pressing his hands down over the wounds. “Miho answer me!”
“I’m sorry,” she exhaled, so quietly he’d not have heard her if he’d not been stooped so closely.
Her eyes peeked open, just a fraction, but that was all Nomura got.
She stared through those tear leaking eyes, through him, through everything, and continued to stare.
“No!” he shouted, frantically calling for medical aid before checking for breath and pulse.
But she didn’t respond.
“You were dead,” he said, almost against her lips.
“I heard you, calling my name,” she smiled faintly, his brown eyes shimmering with tears just above her.
“God, I thought you were gone,” he hissed.
The relieved warmth of his lips on hers was restrained, as restrained as he could manage considering what he really wanted was to wrap her firmly up in his arms and squeeze.
“Kaga said,” Miho sighed when they disengaged, and Nomura sat where Kaga had been, still holding her hand, “an officer was killed.”
With a sigh, Nomura nodded.
“Yeah,” he affirmed. “The bad guys came out swinging, and he was unlucky.”
Closing her eyes, Miho took a slow breath, as deeply as she could though it hurt.
“That’s not fair,” she murmured.
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “And I know saying it’s a potential hazard of the job isn’t likely to make you feel any better, but it was his choice, to do what was right, to be one of the good guys.”
With a gentle swipe, Nomura caught the tear that race over Miho’s cheek before it could hit the pillow.
“And the terrorists?” she managed, opening swimming eyes.
“I should have aimed for where that bastard’s heart should have been,” Nomura asserted. “But I didn’t. Now, he’ll have to pay for what he’s done.”
“Assuming the American’s don’t want him,” Miho pointed out, trying to compose herself.
“They can have him after we’re done,” Nomura sniffed, then looked over his shoulder at the door and back again. “Um… I know this is a bit off topic but, you said some things while I was listening, and I get here and Oresama Kaga is sitting…”
“No,” Miho answered. “No we never… I just needed a way to seem useful; you said buy time.”
“I did,” he agreed. “Not that you could, you know, with him, if you wanted to I just…”
“Nobu, I didn’t have sex with Kaga,” she stated more plainly.
But it was difficult to be glad Nomura seemed to feel the way he did when someone had died. Since the moment Kaga told her, Miho’s mind had been turning the officer’s death over and over.
What else could she have done? Could she have not called Nomura and still saved herself?
“Hey,” Nomura prompted, asserting his presence to the back of her hand once more. “You can’t change the past.”
“I know,” she exhaled, her eyes shooting to the door when it opened and Eisuke Ichinomiya walked in without welcome.
“Mr. Ichinomiya,” Nomura frowned, rising to his feet.
“Relax, Deputy Chief,” Eisuke smirked in his usual way, lifting the modest bunch of flowers he’d brought with him. “I’m merely here to congratulate Miss Fujiwara on a successful outcome.”
“A good man is dead, Ichinomiya!” Miho exclaimed, sitting up a little in anger before flopping back with a grimace.
“Now is not the time, nor is this the place to gloat,” Nomura told him flatly.
“Gloat?” Eisuke repeated. “No, I just wanted to thank Miss Fujiwara for playing her part. Now we can all sleep a little more soundly.”
“Or you might if you still had a penthouse to sleep in,” Miho jabbed. “Thanks for the flowers, but I’d like you to leave.”
“You heard the lady,” Nomura encouraged.
“Oh? A lady, is that what she is?”
Nomura fought the urge to ruffle.
Eisuke poked again.
“Of course she wouldn’t have told you what she did in the pursuit of…”
“How you promised her an evening free of impropriety then pressured her to join you in the hot tub?” Nomura interrupted. “Actually, I’ve read her report, and cannot for the life of me think why terrorists would target such a fine, wholesome, upstanding citizen such as yourself. Thank you for stopping by, I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”
Eisuke’s upper lip twitched as Nomura held out his hand for the flowers, that Eisuke shoved at him.
“Here’s hoping your recovery is incident free,” he said dryly, then made his exit.
“I hate that smug asshole,” Miho growled.
“Yeah, there’s a whole lot not right about him,” Nomura seconded. “You called out to warn me of a sniper, and you weren’t wrong,” he went on. “Except he had already taken a bullet. Furthermore, Dr. Himuro put his time of death not long after you arrived at the steelworks.”
“How?” Miho queried with a mild frown as Nomura sat again. “You think Ichinomiya had something to do with it?”
“Maybe,” he grunted, tossing the flowers in the bin before lacing his fingers through hers. “Rest assured, I’ll be looking into it.”
Relaxing, absorbing the warmth of Nomura’s palm pressed to hers, Miho closed her eyes.
“Yeah, you should sleep,” he smiled, stroking her hair gently. “I’ll stay for a while.”
“You have work,” she murmured, the light dance of his fingers soothing her heart.
“Work can wait for a while,” he told her softly. “I just want to sit here and touch you.”
When Miho woke next, Nomura was gone, but he’d left her a little note saying he’d check in as soon as he could.
With just the muffled sound of people talking and feet shuffling outside, Miho had plenty of time to think.
Nomura forgave you, but what does that mean?
She’d called for him to save her and he had, and though she’d been shot, twice in fact – and should have stayed dead – he had kept his promise. His kiss reignited memories of the steamy encounters of their past – passionate, burning, quivering – but the reason why she’d walked away also surfaced.
She felt ashamed of allowing her fear to hurt him, to dictate her life.
But you’re not like that now. You stood for something – in the face of Eisuke, in the face of Kaga, down the barrel of a gun. So if he’d take you back, if he really could… is that what you want?
Others visited during her hospital stay – Goto, Ishigami, even Genever, but there were some who stayed away. Baba called and apologised for not being able to drop in, something about a job overseas. Kaga called, but Miho could tell Nomura had made an impression on him by his tone of voice, the impression there was no room for a Public Safety captain in her romantic life.
After thirteen days, Miho was going stir crazy, just itching to get home.
She’d been advised her recovery could take as long as eight weeks, during which time she would be heavily restricted with what she should physically do.
“I’ll make sure she takes it easy,” Nomura declared when the doctor was done explaining, and Miho shot him an unsure look.
He had insisted on picking her up and taking her home, and though Miho felt maybe she should have argued, she didn’t.
“You just make yourself comfortable,” he said when they entered, and he carried her bag into the bedroom.
It felt strange, that he acted as if they had never broken up, and Miho wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with it or not, regardless of her attraction.
“Nobu, I can do that much,” she muttered, following after him at a tentative pace.
“I’m not so old I don’t remember where all your stuff goes,” Nomura snorted, glancing back. “Hey, you’re supposed to be taking it easy. You want to end up back in the hospital?”
“I’m walking… I can walk,” she scowled, but in spite of her effort winced when her toe caught on the rug and she stumbled a little.
Immediately Nomura rushed forward and took her elbows, helping her to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Okay, I surrender,” she grimaced with a careful sigh, and Nomura took her head in his hands, standing before her.
“You going to let me take care of you?” he smirked down at her.
“You don’t have time to look after an invalid,” she pointed out, but the brush of his little fingers just behind her ears caused her skin to heat up.
“Eh, I’ve got some leave,” he told her, “so don’t fight me.”
“You going to take leave from organising mixers too?” she enquired.
She could have said it with cheek, but it was a probing question designed to make him ask himself if he wanted to give up that freedom by sliding back into a relationship with her.
“Do I want to give up being a bachelor in order to be with, and take care of someone I care about deeply?” he rephrased, then grinned that bright, confident grin. “Eh, the mixers haven’t been fun since we set the bar so high that night in the bathroom.”
“Oh god,” Miho chuckled, then gasped again.
“Okay, it’s into bed, or onto the couch for you,” he ordered, and with that, his caretakership was decided.
Though he spent a fair amount of time on the phone telling people how to cope without him, Nomura temporarily moved into Miho’s apartment. He slept on the couch, he wasn’t so presumptuous as to think he could join Miho in the bedroom, and even if he had been, he didn’t want to disturb her sleep.
It took but days for that lingering uncomfortable doubt to evaporate from Miho’s mind and heart, leaving her wonder at the stupidity of letting him go in the first place. But he’d come back to her, and that was totally amazing.
He’d been gone twenty minutes or so when the doorbell rang, and rising from where she’d been sitting at the dining table, Miho went to answer it. She was surprised when she peered through the peephole at who she saw standing there, and knew this was written on her face when she opened the door.
“Ambassador,” Miho blinked, then hazarded a smile when he lifted a bunch of flowers – a bunch, mind you, by far more elaborate than those Eisuke had brought her at the hospital.
“For a woman who was shot twice at close range, you look remarkably well, Miss Fujiwara,” he smiled thinly, offering the bouquet.
“Thank you,” she smiled, taking the flowers and backing up a step. “Please, come in.”
With a nod, Hishikura took up her offer and entered her apartment.
“Tea?” she asked.
“Please,” he replied, scanning her living space quickly before following her to the kitchen. “It would seem you are most resilient. You have survived quite an ordeal.”
“Mmm,” Miho murmured, filling the electric jug before turning it on. “I had a little help along the way,” she elaborated, turning to look into his face.
“Oh?” he queried in an offhand tone.
“Will you deny you sent me to USB?” she asked him directly.
The kettle bubbled away behind her.
“If I did, it would mean you are quite indebted to me,” he mused, removing a handkerchief from his pocket, taking off his glasses and cleaning them casually. “You don’t find that concept, uncomfortable?” he questioned, positioning the glasses back against his face.
“I don’t especially like to owe people,” Miho responded slowly. “But I will pay what’s due.”
“Still an idealist, even now?” Hishikura smirked, then pointed. “The kettle has boiled.”
“Leave it to a politician to misdirect,” Miho grumbled, but she thought his reluctance to admit he’d helped her was not entirely about protecting himself from the admission he’d had access to the information all along.
Perhaps he thinks I’ve already paid enough?
“Merely pointing out a fact,” he disagreed lightly.
“You know,” she said brightly, changing the subject as she made their tea, “when I’m back at one hundred percent I’m going to need a new job. I don’t suppose you know anyone looking for a foolhardy bilingual crusader with rudimentary law enforcement experience?”
At this Hishikura actually laughed.
“Sadly, I already have a secretary,” he said. “I think that role would suit you well.”
Then his smile twisted a little.
“Perhaps you should ask Ichinomiya?”
Dropping the spoon on the countertop with a clang, she turned with both cups and motioned back out to the living room.
“I don’t think it will come as any surprise to you, that I’d rather take another bullet than ask Ichinomiya Eisuke for anything,” she told him, handing him his cup once he was seated.
“But you’d ask me?” he continued, raising an eyebrow.
“I did,” she affirmed, carefully lowering herself onto the couch before continuing. “However, I am aware, though I don’t know the specific details, that you and Ichinomiya are connected. I believe he knew the information I was looking for was always in the Tres Spades.”
“So, by your theory, if I did send you the USB, I must have acquired it from him?” he posed, then took a sip of his tea.
“It’s a distinct possibility,” she nodded slowly, blowing across the top of her cup, creating hazy swirls of steam. “And, if you do have some shady connection to that asshole, I suggest you distance yourself.”
“Oh?” he prompted yet again, not looking the slightest bit bothered by Miho’s suggestions.
“I have it on good authority that the police will be looking into Ichinomiya’s affairs,” Miho revealed, making meaningful eye contact. “Even the rumour of being investigated could be very damaging to a reputation and a career.”
“I appreciate you offering a warning,” he smiled slightly. “But it truly is not necessary.”
“I hope that’s true, I really do,” she told him honestly. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, Ambassador, but I think, you are more of an idealist than you’d admit.”
“I suppose anything is possible,” he responded evasively, and Miho didn’t push for more.
It was enough he’d come to say hello and wish her well.
When he was gone, Miho relaxed on the couch and ultimately fell asleep. It was to a gentle sensation against her hair and the quiet whisper of her name close to her ear.
“Mmm, sorry, guess I just konked out,” she muttered, stretching carefully.
“What are you apologising for?” Nomura chuckled, sitting down next to her.
Groggily she rested her head against his shoulder and exhaled a long breath.
“I can’t believe you’re still here,” she told him.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, moving his arm across her shoulders.
Tilting her head, she looked into his face – so close.
“Honestly?”
“Honestly,” he confirmed.
“I honestly don’t,” she admitted. “Aside from the being shot part, having you here, in my life, my space every day has been… it’s what I was so afraid to lose I ran away before I could hold it again, and now… I don’t want to let it go.”
“Who says you have to?” he smiled. “Miho, I’m not just here because you were injured and need a bit of help, I’m here because I want to be here, close to you, in your space, every day.”
He gave her a soft squeeze and silence fell over them – not awkward, but comfortable, until Nomura broke it.
“So… um… think maybe I could… sleep in the bed tonight?”
Explosively Miho laughed, then cringed.
“Ow ow,” she chuckled. “You know I’m surprised you’ve lasted so long on the couch.”
“If I’m honest, I’ve been taking power naps at my desk,” he admitted sheepishly. “I can leave my toothbrush next to yours in the bathroom too, right?”
“Yeah,” Miho grinned. “I’ll even let you have an itty, bitty fraction of my wardrobe space.”
“Oh how very generous,” he sniffed.
“Uuuuh,” Miho stretched again, her legs this time. “Huh, I’ve been loafing around so much I think I’m not used to being on my feet much.”
“Sore?” he asked, and Miho nodded, only to have him slip from the couch and sit on the floor before her.
“Nobu, you’re tired,” Miho protested when he pulled her slippers off, and pressed his thumb under the arch of her left foot. “You don’t…”
“Just let me pamper you,” he argued, smoothing against her skin, over her heel, up her ankle and then back down again.
“If I start snoring, you can’t blame me then,” Miho muttered, then sighed, resting her head back against the couch cushions.
“If you do that, I might have to do something to keep you more, stimulated,” he grinned, and Miho’s eyes shot open.
In response to what he interpreted as shock, Nomura lifted his hands, but this caused Miho to sit up a little more and scowl.
“Why the are you stopping?” she grumbled. “I want you to touch me.”
The smile that bloomed on Nomura’s face spread warm fuzzies all throughout Miho’s body.
“Just, you know, be mindful I’m still a bit…” she began.
“Fragile, I know,” he nodded. “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”
There was something magical about the kneading sensation of long, strong fingers, the soft sound of his skin creating friction against hers, and the quietness of their breathing.
When he felt the tension leave her feet, Nomura crept up her calves, his hands disappearing beneath the comfy slacks she was wearing. His thumbs dug long strokes up and down the muscles, lightly brushing behind her knees with his thumbs, and Miho shivered.
“Who knew what I really wanted in my life all this time, was a live in massager butler,” she exhaled in a luxurious sigh.
“Just a massage butler?” he queried, venturing further upward, but soon found himself restricted at the elbow.
Miho bit her lip to stifle a giggle.
“You look ridiculous right now,” she grinned. “Where’s my phone?”
“Back pocket maybe?” he offered withdrawing his arms. “Here, let me help you look.
Rocking to his knees, Nomura reached for the sash at Miho’s waist and tugged it free before sliding her pants over her hips until she lifted her bottom a little off the couch.
“Careful,” he warned as he dragged her pants to her ankles and then away completely.
“I’m not that fragile,” she muttered.
“Sure you are,” he disagreed.
“And yet you’re still going to…”
She gasped when he lightly placed his hands on her hips, teasing the band of her underwear with his thumbs.
“I can’t help it,” he admitted guiltily. “I’m hungry – but if I hurt you…”
“You won’t,” she said, no doubt in her voice at all. “You’re not the only one with an appetite.”
“Oh?” he hummed, slithering his fingertips over her abdomen before ever so lightly tracing the line of her slit, still hidden behind dark purple panties.
The last time Miho had had intimate contact, had been with Baba what seemed like so long ago, and that had been born of anger and frustration at Kaga. She hadn’t even had time to satisfy herself, and so even the gentlest touch mixed with desperate anticipation, caused Miho to shudder and her breath to catch.
“I missed the way you suck in your breaths, the way you hold it,” he told her, eyes fixed on her face as he caressed slowly, pressing just hard enough to graze the hood of her clit with each pass. “The way you want it so badly but try to hold back.”
“You make it impossible,” she swallowed, trying to resist squirming against him.
“I just want to hear you…” he began, and she finished for him.
“Sing your name, right?”
“The sweetest sound of all,” he beamed, digging his forefinger right in between her folds, causing her increasing moisture to soak through the fabric in a dark line.
“I disagree,” she breathed, attempting to keep each inhale and exhale even. “The way you moan, while biting on my earlobe, that is the sweetest sound.”
“We’ll have to agree, to disagree,” he began, leaning forward to kiss the white of her inner thighs and run his tongue between her legs with maddening tenderness.
Of their own accord, Miho’s hands slunk to Nomura’s head, her fingers sliding through the soft tousle of his hair until she felt a fingertip loop under the elastic of her panties and slither to the source of her arousal.
A sharp breath hissed in through Miho’s teeth as he probed around her entrance, teasing no further, before pulling back.
“Still okay?” he asked her, and Miho made a displeased face.
“You just want me to bed, don’t you?” she grumbled, pushing down her underwear impatiently, wriggling until he helped her out.
“You’ll make a mess on the couch,” he smirked, twirling the discarded garment around.
“It’s washable,” she retorted triumphantly.
“Hmm, well in that case…”
Nomura lowered his head once more and Miho spread her legs. His face fit snuggly between them and his lips pressed around her clit. Slowly he increased the pressure of his tongue, before sucking her progressively sensitive nub into her mouth.
In response, Miho’s stomach muscles tightened and her ass lifted a little off the couch to push against him, but this caused the pull of stitches in her upper body, forcing her to sit back.
“Damnit,” she cursed breathily, as Nomura began to lap up her crease in long strokes, and she dug her fingernails into her own thighs. “Go deep, Nobu,” she hissed out, biting her lip. “You know exactly where to… to…”
Her sentence broke off when he pushed his pointer finger inside her, all the way to the knuckle, and her reflex was to clench him tightly.
“I wish… I wish…” she panted, and Nomura lifted his face, wet with her desire for him.
“I know what you wish,” he grinned, carefully adding a second finger and examining her expression. “And it’s what I want too, but for now, we’ll have to be content with this.”
“Content me harder,” she begged, and licking his lips, Nomura complied.
Occasionally Miho felt the twinge of her wounds, but the tangle of sexual frustration that had built over her campaign to get back the dangerous information, had been set ablaze. His slightly upward, deep digging thrusts and the flicker of his tongue over and around her clit, dulled everything else, everything except the thrumming urgency of her heartbeat and the storm of quivering pleasure gathering in her flesh. Her toes curled as a second finger joined the first, and Nomura lifted his eyes to take in the bliss of her expression.
She was biting her lip fiercely and digging her nails into the couch cushion, her chest rising and falling in quick succession which actually made him pause.
“What?” she whimpered breathlessly.
“Maybe…” he began, but she cut him off curtly.
“Please Nobu, make me come, let me come,” she begged, hazy eyes imploring, body quivering.
“If you pop your stitches, you know, this was a bad…” he said, but his voice was softly teasing.
“The only thing likely to pop, is you, after I wrap my fingers around you thick, hard, throbbing…”
“Jesus,” Nomura muttered.
“And my lips, tracing with my tongue,” Miho continued, carefully buking her hips against his stationary fingers still buried inside her.
“Damnit Miho,” he groaned, shifting his position a little to try and relieve some of the pressure in his pants – unsuccessfully. “Hold on then.”
With renewed vigour he drove into her, and Miho grit her teeth, the flames he stoked within her clawing furiously toward an inferno that filled every part of her until it reached and breached all limits.
With her mouth wide, breath held, her entire body clenched in painful ecstasy, quivering against Nomura’s lips still clamped over her clit, while he brushed her core with his fingertips as she rode out her orgasm.
When she finally gasped in a breath, Nomura lifted his head, but remained deep inside her warmth. That face, he knew though she had hurt him terribly, was the one he still loved, wanted to keep loving – he really had forgiven her.
“Oh God,” Miho hissed sharply, swallowing. “God… Nobu… that…”
“Shhh,” he whispered, lapping away the rush of moisture she’d produced before sitting up on the couch next to her. “You break anything?”
“Oh… oh maybe, but…”
She shivered and lolled her head to the side, against his shoulder, and took up his wrist, guiding his fingers into her mouth. Her own taste was tangy across her tongue, a pleasant flavour representing Nomura’s power over her.
“You’ve always been good with your mouth,” he approved, then murmured a low moan when she placed her palm against the strain of his erection, ghosting her fingers over the barely contained mountain still trapped in his pants.
“And my hands,” Miho declared around his fingers, her touch still so feathery light, and Nomura began to squirm.
So funny, that a man in such an important role, could be made to wriggle like that with just the softest touch.
Taking her time, Miho finally release some of the pressure, then dug her hand into Nomura’s underwear to reveal the impressiveness of his cock.
“I missed this,” Miho sighed, wrapping her hand around him and sliding slowly to the tip.
The anticipation she met there slicked her fingers, allowing her palm to glide effortlessly down the pulse of his veined shaft.
“Not as much as I have,” he breathed, deeply, filling her lungs.
When she began to tilt however, to lean toward his lap, he stopped her.
“No,” he told her firmly. “You really will hurt yourself.”
Miho emitted a soft huff, and increased the speed of her caress, the strength of her grip, occasionally pausing to outline his head with her thumb. And she smiled at the quickening of his breath, the way he lifted off the couch into her hand, and she imagined him thrusting it inside her – stretching, filling, warming her from the inside.
“I want you inside me so much,” she whined.
“When you’re… when… you’re healed,” he grated out through his teeth, his abs tensing against her wrist and she knew he was close.
“And I want to be on my knees,” Miho continued, herself a little breathless again, “looking up into your eyes as I suck your balls into my mouth, as I…”
“Miho…” he croaked, but she didn’t stop.
“… as I slither my tongue, just the pointed tip against the base of your cock, press it flat as I glide it up, then wrap my lips around your head and suck.”
“Fuu…”
He couldn’t form words after that. He lifted himself to meet each downward motion she made until his movements became erratic. Breathy mutterings accompanied the product of his orgasm, spurting messily over his pants, his abdomen and all over Miho’s hand. And she held him until she felt him soften, smiling despite the ache of her upper body thanks to the stain – but it was totally worth it.
“You always make such a beautiful mess,” Miho grinned. “Of both of us.”’
Nomura couldn’t yet respond, his mind still reeling, his body alive with the afterglow of their energetic intimacies.
“Ha… sounds like we need to shower,” he said finally, using his feet to push down his trousers until he could kick them off.
“Sounds like we do,” Miho agreed.
Together they washed, Nomura reaching places Miho couldn’t, careful not to disturb the waterproof dressings that covered her wounds. Neither said anything about them, just content to have hands on one another, to be with one another.
THE END
Thank you to those who helped me along the way! <3
@hifftn @ladystar0710 @nitelotus @belxsar @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys @mirandaflamel
#voltage inc#voltage otome#voltage games#her love in the force#hlitf#metro pd: close to you#mpdcty#voltage fanfic#hlitf fanfic#mpdcty fanfic#nomura tadanobu#hiroshi kirisawa#kaga hyogo#nomura smut
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