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lysapadinTitle: Cherry Stem
Characters/Pairings: Riko/Momoi
Summary: In which Riko and Momoi finally have the time to get to know one another a little better, and they make up for lost time.
Notes: Adult for smut; written for Porn Battle XIV, prompt: secrets. 2617 words.
~~~~~~~~~~
Cherry Stem
The Sunday after the Winter Cup finals, Riko pulls out a cute skirt and cuter sweater and takes a little longer than usual with her hair and makeup before she pulls on her coat and heads out the door. It earns her a raised eyebrow from her roommates and a curious "Hot date?" to which she replies, "Yeah, something like that."
She catches the bus and takes it across town, sitting in the window seat and watching the streets pass, thinking about the exams that are coming up and the studying that she's been forestalling while Seirin was still in the tournament. That's over now and the third-years have all submitted their club resignations—she'd had to all but pry the forms out of Kagami-kun and Kuroko-kun's hands, at the last, but they'd finally surrendered them. The club is officially in Irino-kun's hands now for the perfunctory practices that are all they're allowed to hold until exams are over. Privately, Riko can admit that this is for the best; it's not easy, balancing university classes and coaching Seirin's team. She wouldn't give it up for the world, but all the same, it'll be good to have some time to focus on her coursework and all the other things that have had to take a back seat to the team.
Momoi-chan beats her to the little café where they've agreed to meet and is sitting in the corner booth, well away from the draft that gusts through the door any time it opens. She smiles when she catches sight of Riko, murmurs a greeting when Riko shrugs her coat off and slides into the booth across from her, and waits politely while Riko orders a pot of tea and a slice of cake. Riko can't help but notice that she's dressed up a bit, too; her blouse is crisp and white and opens at the collar, hinting at the softness of cleavage and the sparkle of a pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. The chill of the air outside must not bother her very much, because she's already ordered a milkshake for herself.
The server walks away from the booth, leaving them in relative privacy. Riko looks across the table at Momoi-chan, not entirely sure what she ought to say. It's been three years leading up to this moment, three years of deferring this meeting because their respective teams have always had to come first (and she can't speak for Momoi-chan, but Riko knows that she would have respected her a lot less if that hadn't been the case).
Then Momoi-chan parts her lips and sticks out her tongue and plucks the—cherry stem?—off the tip of it. She sets it down on the napkin beneath her milkshake, and Riko sees that it is tied in a tight knot.
Just that easily, the ice breaks. Riko shakes her head. "And to think I used to wonder why on earth you and Aomine-kun were friends."
Momoi-chan's smile is particularly demure (Riko doesn't believe it for a second). "It's true that I taught him everything he knows." She reflects on that for a moment, probably because it is an appalling thought, and adds, "Though he's not a particularly teachable boy."
"I never would have guessed," Riko says, dry, and it makes Momoi-chan giggle. "I have heard the things Kuroko-kun has said about him, you know." She'd overheard Harasawa-san and Nakatani-san commiserating with each other that time her father had taken it in his head to hold a reunion, too. Not to mention the fact that she has eyes and a functioning brain.
Momoi-chan giggles again and tucks her hands under her chin, aiming her smile and her dimples across the table. It's not unlike being hit by a sledgehammer of pure charm, but Riko is made of stern stuff and does not reel. Much. "Tetsu-kun does have good stories about Dai-chan."
"I hear a 'but' there, for some reason," Riko tells her.
Momoi-chan closes her lips around her straw, lowering her eyelashes and watching Riko through them. "Mm," she says after she's swallowed, "Tetsu-kun isn't the one who grew up with Dai-chan, is he?" She waits until Riko has begun to smile at the implicit offer and goes on. "And of course, I doubt he shares any of the stories about himself."
Riko grins for more than one reason. "You know, for some reason, he must have forgotten to tell those stories. Care to fix that for him?"
Momoi sits up straighter and tucks a lock of hair behind her ears, practically sparkling. "You only had to ask," she says, right before launching into a story about Kuroko-kun, Aomine-kun, and a prank on Kise-kun gone horribly wrong.
Riko laughs until the tears stand in her eyes and then tells her about the first time Kuroko-kun terrorized Kagami-kun with Nigou. Momoi-chan counters that with the story of the time Touou's Sakurai-kun finally got tired of Aomine-kun's stealing all his food and doctored everything in his bento with laxatives. The afternoon melts away with the stories they trade back and forth, each silly story like a secret finally told; Momoi-chan is too good at collecting data and Riko is too good at analysis for them to have risked this until now. But the Winter Cup is over and done with and Momoi-chan is not staying on at Touou to manage the team while she goes to university.
"Not," Momoi-chan says when the winter sunlight is beginning to fade and Riko is contemplating the last cold dregs of her tea, "Not that Harasawa-kantoku didn't try to persuade me into trying it." She stirs her straw through the melted puddle at the bottom of her glass and looks very far away as she thinks about it. "But I think it's time to do something else for a while."
Something else. Riko studies her and decides that this is not the time to ask; it has the sound of being a tender subject. Perhaps Momoi-chan will tell her more about it when the time is right.
For now Riko reaches across the table and picks up the knotted cherry stem. "So tell me the story behind this," she says instead.
Momoi-chan may mean for the way she smiles to seem innocent, but there's a bit of a quiver at the corners of her mouth and a sparkle in her eyes that is anything but. "I thought it might be nice to offer a little enticement," she murmurs. "Evidence that I'm good with my tongue."
Riko pauses over that, wondering a bit and worrying the knotted stem between thumb and forefinger. "Did you really think I needed enticing?"
"It never hurts to be sure." Momoi-chan casts a look at her, another one that is veiled by her eyelashes. "I suppose I could give you a direct demonstration, if you like."
"That is a terrible line," Riko tells her, even as she slides out of her seat and reaches for her coat.
Momoi-chan smiles up at her, eyes dancing. "And yet it seems to be working."
"Don't give me second thoughts," Riko warns her, but it only makes her laugh.
Riko has roommates and Momoi-chan has parents, so they split the cost of a room and giggle their way inside. Once inside the door, Momoi-chan pauses and tosses her hair to cover the moment of hesitation, and it's in moments like this that it's easy to remember the year's difference in their ages. Riko doesn't insult her by asking her whether she's sure, but when she slips the jacket off Momoi-chan's shoulders, she's gentle with it, and gentler still when she slips her arms around Momoi-chan's waist and kisses her for the first time. Momoi-chan goes still against her mouth for just a moment before opening her mouth and kissing back, perfectly willing.
Riko hums to her, pleased, and lets Momoi-chan—"Satsuki," she says, when Riko murmurs to her, "Don't you think?"—lets Satsuki twine her arms around her and lead, at least for the moment. Satsuki wasn't exaggerating; she is very good with her tongue, with kissing as an art form, and it's a pleasure to open her mouth to Satsuki's and taste the lingering traces of chocolate on her lips as they make their way from door to bed. Riko sinks her fingers into the heavy fall of Satsuki's hair, running them through the silky wealth of it, and arches into the first cool slide of Satsuki's fingers when they edge under her sweater and slide up her back, hesitation apparently over and forgotten. That's just as well; they've postponed this moment for quite long enough.
Riko takes advantage of a moment of Satsuki's distraction to mouth the curve of her throat, which gives her the first chance to unbutton Satsuki's blouse. Satsuki is the one who makes a delighted sound when she realizes that Riko elected to wear a camisole rather than a bra, and takes full advantage of that fact to push her sweater and the camisole up and run clever fingers over the slope of Riko's breasts. Riko groans then, arching into her hands, and pulls away from Satsuki long enough to peel out of both layers altogether before catching Satsuki close and kissing her again. Satsuki settles against her readily, already stroking her hands over Riko's shoulders and chest; she makes a sound, something like fascination, when she slides her palms over Riko's breasts again and Riko shudders with the bolt of sensation. "Are they really that sensitive?" she asks, teasing her thumbs against them, slow circles that make sparks dance along Riko's nerves.
That seems like a silly question when every little shift of Satsuki's fingers makes her breath hitch; Riko pushes the blouse off her shoulders and unhooks Satsuki's bra instead of answering. Satsuki's breasts are heavy and smooth under her palms, warm against her fingers, and Satsuki laughs a little, soft, as Riko cups them. "Sorry," she says, though her voice is dropping, turning huskier. "I don't think it works as well on me."
Riko presses her over anyway and kisses her again, runs her mouth down her throat, lapping at the pulse of it and discovering that Satsuki squirms delightfully when she nibbles on the juncture of neck and shoulder, and traces her mouth down over the curve of her breasts. Satsuki gasps when she closes her lips on the peak of her breast, arching up against Riko and clutching her shoulder.
There are things they haven't exactly talked about, and that hints at one of the big things. Riko sets her hands on Satsuki's bare skin, stroking them over the curve of her back and the softness of her breasts, slowing down as she mouths her breast, sucking delicately until Satsuki groans and sinks her fingers into her hair. Riko lets her pull her up for a kiss, pressing against Satsuki and humming with the sleekness of skin against skin as Satsuki runs steady hands down her back. That's all she does for a moment, then she finds the zipper of Riko's skirt and undoes it. Riko lets her do it, lets her push her skirt down and helps by kicking it off, and kisses her slowly while Satsuki sets light hands on her hips and strokes the curve of her waist. When Satsuki nudges at her, she goes, settling onto her back and resting against the pillow.
Satsuki pushes herself up onto her elbow and looks for a moment, perhaps not realizing that she's biting her lower lip. Riko waits her out; it doesn't take her very long to lean in for another kiss, or to run her hands over Riko's breasts, already knowing where to touch and stroke to make Riko gasp and shudder. She's a quick study, Satsuki; Riko groans a curse when she plants a kiss against her collarbone and another between her breasts, long hair tickling against Riko's skin as she slides her mouth over the curve of her breasts, oh—
Riko closes her eyes, arching into it as Satsuki laps at her, wickedly slow, pleasure dancing through her with every velvety-soft brush of tongue and lips against her skin. Heat twists through her, settling low in her belly, an insistent throb of it that tightens every time Satsuki's tongue strokes against her nipple. Satsuki murmurs something indistinct and sucks, and Riko's back comes off the bed with that bolt of pleasure. She sinks her fingers into Satsuki's hair, panting hard; when she feels the light touch of fingers against the inside of her thigh, she's all too ready to spread her knees wider against the bed.
She can't feel any hesitation in it when Satsuki settles her palm against her, a warm solid pressure just where Riko wants it most. She rocks up against it, rubbing against Satsuki's palm in spite of the fact that she still has her panties on, and groans with the weight and friction. She might even say something, yes or please, because Satsuki moves with assurance—slides her fingers under the elastic, right against her, right where Riko needs it, warm against her clit. Riko rocks up against it, hips already moving fast and hard with the way tension is singing through her—three years' build-up to this, she thinks ruefully, and she isn't going to last any time at all. Then Satsuki tries the edge of her teeth against her nipple and Riko comes off just like that, shouting as she comes apart, shaking with the rush of orgasm as it washes through her. Satsuki works her right through it, until Riko has to push her away before it can become too much, but she doesn't go far.
When Riko finally catches her breath and opens her eyes, Satsuki is watching her. Her eyes are maybe a bit wider than normal, but she's smiling, flushed and sneakingly pleased. It's a good look for her; Riko is all too happy to see it. It takes her a bit longer to be able to push herself up and reach for Satsuki, but since Satsuki doesn't seem to mind that, it doesn't matter. She allows Riko to settle against her and leans up to catch her mouth again, warm and pliant under Riko's hands. Riko likes that, and she likes the way Satsuki draws her closer, arms warm around her, and most of all she likes the way Satsuki murmurs, "Riko-san, please," against her mouth, and wriggles out of her skirt and panties when Riko reaches for them. She moans when Riko touches her, dipping her fingers between Satsuki's thighs and finding her hot and slick to the touch. Riko kisses her again and strokes her slowly, circling her fingers lightly and teasing them into her, working them against the tight grip of Satsuki's body until Satsuki is arching taut beneath her, shuddering as she draws deep, sobbing breaths. When Riko finally grinds her palm against her, Satsuki cries out with it, bucking against her hand as her body seizes around Riko's fingers. When she finally subsides against the bed, flushed and dazed, Riko settles against her and cuddles her close.
Eventually Satsuki stirs against her and kisses her again, soft, shaping words against Riko's mouth. "That was lovely."
"Mm," Riko agrees, feeling rather complacent herself. "We should have done this ages ago."
Satsuki giggles against her shoulder and doesn't make any gestures in the direction of getting up, which is fine by Riko. After a bit, she says, soft, "Same time next week?"
"Sounds good to me," Riko agrees.
After all, there's a knotted cherry stem in her coat pocket, waiting there like a promise, and she means to see it fulfilled.
end
Comments are always lovely!
Characters/Pairings: Riko/Momoi
Summary: In which Riko and Momoi finally have the time to get to know one another a little better, and they make up for lost time.
Notes: Adult for smut; written for Porn Battle XIV, prompt: secrets. 2617 words.
Cherry Stem
The Sunday after the Winter Cup finals, Riko pulls out a cute skirt and cuter sweater and takes a little longer than usual with her hair and makeup before she pulls on her coat and heads out the door. It earns her a raised eyebrow from her roommates and a curious "Hot date?" to which she replies, "Yeah, something like that."
She catches the bus and takes it across town, sitting in the window seat and watching the streets pass, thinking about the exams that are coming up and the studying that she's been forestalling while Seirin was still in the tournament. That's over now and the third-years have all submitted their club resignations—she'd had to all but pry the forms out of Kagami-kun and Kuroko-kun's hands, at the last, but they'd finally surrendered them. The club is officially in Irino-kun's hands now for the perfunctory practices that are all they're allowed to hold until exams are over. Privately, Riko can admit that this is for the best; it's not easy, balancing university classes and coaching Seirin's team. She wouldn't give it up for the world, but all the same, it'll be good to have some time to focus on her coursework and all the other things that have had to take a back seat to the team.
Momoi-chan beats her to the little café where they've agreed to meet and is sitting in the corner booth, well away from the draft that gusts through the door any time it opens. She smiles when she catches sight of Riko, murmurs a greeting when Riko shrugs her coat off and slides into the booth across from her, and waits politely while Riko orders a pot of tea and a slice of cake. Riko can't help but notice that she's dressed up a bit, too; her blouse is crisp and white and opens at the collar, hinting at the softness of cleavage and the sparkle of a pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. The chill of the air outside must not bother her very much, because she's already ordered a milkshake for herself.
The server walks away from the booth, leaving them in relative privacy. Riko looks across the table at Momoi-chan, not entirely sure what she ought to say. It's been three years leading up to this moment, three years of deferring this meeting because their respective teams have always had to come first (and she can't speak for Momoi-chan, but Riko knows that she would have respected her a lot less if that hadn't been the case).
Then Momoi-chan parts her lips and sticks out her tongue and plucks the—cherry stem?—off the tip of it. She sets it down on the napkin beneath her milkshake, and Riko sees that it is tied in a tight knot.
Just that easily, the ice breaks. Riko shakes her head. "And to think I used to wonder why on earth you and Aomine-kun were friends."
Momoi-chan's smile is particularly demure (Riko doesn't believe it for a second). "It's true that I taught him everything he knows." She reflects on that for a moment, probably because it is an appalling thought, and adds, "Though he's not a particularly teachable boy."
"I never would have guessed," Riko says, dry, and it makes Momoi-chan giggle. "I have heard the things Kuroko-kun has said about him, you know." She'd overheard Harasawa-san and Nakatani-san commiserating with each other that time her father had taken it in his head to hold a reunion, too. Not to mention the fact that she has eyes and a functioning brain.
Momoi-chan giggles again and tucks her hands under her chin, aiming her smile and her dimples across the table. It's not unlike being hit by a sledgehammer of pure charm, but Riko is made of stern stuff and does not reel. Much. "Tetsu-kun does have good stories about Dai-chan."
"I hear a 'but' there, for some reason," Riko tells her.
Momoi-chan closes her lips around her straw, lowering her eyelashes and watching Riko through them. "Mm," she says after she's swallowed, "Tetsu-kun isn't the one who grew up with Dai-chan, is he?" She waits until Riko has begun to smile at the implicit offer and goes on. "And of course, I doubt he shares any of the stories about himself."
Riko grins for more than one reason. "You know, for some reason, he must have forgotten to tell those stories. Care to fix that for him?"
Momoi sits up straighter and tucks a lock of hair behind her ears, practically sparkling. "You only had to ask," she says, right before launching into a story about Kuroko-kun, Aomine-kun, and a prank on Kise-kun gone horribly wrong.
Riko laughs until the tears stand in her eyes and then tells her about the first time Kuroko-kun terrorized Kagami-kun with Nigou. Momoi-chan counters that with the story of the time Touou's Sakurai-kun finally got tired of Aomine-kun's stealing all his food and doctored everything in his bento with laxatives. The afternoon melts away with the stories they trade back and forth, each silly story like a secret finally told; Momoi-chan is too good at collecting data and Riko is too good at analysis for them to have risked this until now. But the Winter Cup is over and done with and Momoi-chan is not staying on at Touou to manage the team while she goes to university.
"Not," Momoi-chan says when the winter sunlight is beginning to fade and Riko is contemplating the last cold dregs of her tea, "Not that Harasawa-kantoku didn't try to persuade me into trying it." She stirs her straw through the melted puddle at the bottom of her glass and looks very far away as she thinks about it. "But I think it's time to do something else for a while."
Something else. Riko studies her and decides that this is not the time to ask; it has the sound of being a tender subject. Perhaps Momoi-chan will tell her more about it when the time is right.
For now Riko reaches across the table and picks up the knotted cherry stem. "So tell me the story behind this," she says instead.
Momoi-chan may mean for the way she smiles to seem innocent, but there's a bit of a quiver at the corners of her mouth and a sparkle in her eyes that is anything but. "I thought it might be nice to offer a little enticement," she murmurs. "Evidence that I'm good with my tongue."
Riko pauses over that, wondering a bit and worrying the knotted stem between thumb and forefinger. "Did you really think I needed enticing?"
"It never hurts to be sure." Momoi-chan casts a look at her, another one that is veiled by her eyelashes. "I suppose I could give you a direct demonstration, if you like."
"That is a terrible line," Riko tells her, even as she slides out of her seat and reaches for her coat.
Momoi-chan smiles up at her, eyes dancing. "And yet it seems to be working."
"Don't give me second thoughts," Riko warns her, but it only makes her laugh.
Riko has roommates and Momoi-chan has parents, so they split the cost of a room and giggle their way inside. Once inside the door, Momoi-chan pauses and tosses her hair to cover the moment of hesitation, and it's in moments like this that it's easy to remember the year's difference in their ages. Riko doesn't insult her by asking her whether she's sure, but when she slips the jacket off Momoi-chan's shoulders, she's gentle with it, and gentler still when she slips her arms around Momoi-chan's waist and kisses her for the first time. Momoi-chan goes still against her mouth for just a moment before opening her mouth and kissing back, perfectly willing.
Riko hums to her, pleased, and lets Momoi-chan—"Satsuki," she says, when Riko murmurs to her, "Don't you think?"—lets Satsuki twine her arms around her and lead, at least for the moment. Satsuki wasn't exaggerating; she is very good with her tongue, with kissing as an art form, and it's a pleasure to open her mouth to Satsuki's and taste the lingering traces of chocolate on her lips as they make their way from door to bed. Riko sinks her fingers into the heavy fall of Satsuki's hair, running them through the silky wealth of it, and arches into the first cool slide of Satsuki's fingers when they edge under her sweater and slide up her back, hesitation apparently over and forgotten. That's just as well; they've postponed this moment for quite long enough.
Riko takes advantage of a moment of Satsuki's distraction to mouth the curve of her throat, which gives her the first chance to unbutton Satsuki's blouse. Satsuki is the one who makes a delighted sound when she realizes that Riko elected to wear a camisole rather than a bra, and takes full advantage of that fact to push her sweater and the camisole up and run clever fingers over the slope of Riko's breasts. Riko groans then, arching into her hands, and pulls away from Satsuki long enough to peel out of both layers altogether before catching Satsuki close and kissing her again. Satsuki settles against her readily, already stroking her hands over Riko's shoulders and chest; she makes a sound, something like fascination, when she slides her palms over Riko's breasts again and Riko shudders with the bolt of sensation. "Are they really that sensitive?" she asks, teasing her thumbs against them, slow circles that make sparks dance along Riko's nerves.
That seems like a silly question when every little shift of Satsuki's fingers makes her breath hitch; Riko pushes the blouse off her shoulders and unhooks Satsuki's bra instead of answering. Satsuki's breasts are heavy and smooth under her palms, warm against her fingers, and Satsuki laughs a little, soft, as Riko cups them. "Sorry," she says, though her voice is dropping, turning huskier. "I don't think it works as well on me."
Riko presses her over anyway and kisses her again, runs her mouth down her throat, lapping at the pulse of it and discovering that Satsuki squirms delightfully when she nibbles on the juncture of neck and shoulder, and traces her mouth down over the curve of her breasts. Satsuki gasps when she closes her lips on the peak of her breast, arching up against Riko and clutching her shoulder.
There are things they haven't exactly talked about, and that hints at one of the big things. Riko sets her hands on Satsuki's bare skin, stroking them over the curve of her back and the softness of her breasts, slowing down as she mouths her breast, sucking delicately until Satsuki groans and sinks her fingers into her hair. Riko lets her pull her up for a kiss, pressing against Satsuki and humming with the sleekness of skin against skin as Satsuki runs steady hands down her back. That's all she does for a moment, then she finds the zipper of Riko's skirt and undoes it. Riko lets her do it, lets her push her skirt down and helps by kicking it off, and kisses her slowly while Satsuki sets light hands on her hips and strokes the curve of her waist. When Satsuki nudges at her, she goes, settling onto her back and resting against the pillow.
Satsuki pushes herself up onto her elbow and looks for a moment, perhaps not realizing that she's biting her lower lip. Riko waits her out; it doesn't take her very long to lean in for another kiss, or to run her hands over Riko's breasts, already knowing where to touch and stroke to make Riko gasp and shudder. She's a quick study, Satsuki; Riko groans a curse when she plants a kiss against her collarbone and another between her breasts, long hair tickling against Riko's skin as she slides her mouth over the curve of her breasts, oh—
Riko closes her eyes, arching into it as Satsuki laps at her, wickedly slow, pleasure dancing through her with every velvety-soft brush of tongue and lips against her skin. Heat twists through her, settling low in her belly, an insistent throb of it that tightens every time Satsuki's tongue strokes against her nipple. Satsuki murmurs something indistinct and sucks, and Riko's back comes off the bed with that bolt of pleasure. She sinks her fingers into Satsuki's hair, panting hard; when she feels the light touch of fingers against the inside of her thigh, she's all too ready to spread her knees wider against the bed.
She can't feel any hesitation in it when Satsuki settles her palm against her, a warm solid pressure just where Riko wants it most. She rocks up against it, rubbing against Satsuki's palm in spite of the fact that she still has her panties on, and groans with the weight and friction. She might even say something, yes or please, because Satsuki moves with assurance—slides her fingers under the elastic, right against her, right where Riko needs it, warm against her clit. Riko rocks up against it, hips already moving fast and hard with the way tension is singing through her—three years' build-up to this, she thinks ruefully, and she isn't going to last any time at all. Then Satsuki tries the edge of her teeth against her nipple and Riko comes off just like that, shouting as she comes apart, shaking with the rush of orgasm as it washes through her. Satsuki works her right through it, until Riko has to push her away before it can become too much, but she doesn't go far.
When Riko finally catches her breath and opens her eyes, Satsuki is watching her. Her eyes are maybe a bit wider than normal, but she's smiling, flushed and sneakingly pleased. It's a good look for her; Riko is all too happy to see it. It takes her a bit longer to be able to push herself up and reach for Satsuki, but since Satsuki doesn't seem to mind that, it doesn't matter. She allows Riko to settle against her and leans up to catch her mouth again, warm and pliant under Riko's hands. Riko likes that, and she likes the way Satsuki draws her closer, arms warm around her, and most of all she likes the way Satsuki murmurs, "Riko-san, please," against her mouth, and wriggles out of her skirt and panties when Riko reaches for them. She moans when Riko touches her, dipping her fingers between Satsuki's thighs and finding her hot and slick to the touch. Riko kisses her again and strokes her slowly, circling her fingers lightly and teasing them into her, working them against the tight grip of Satsuki's body until Satsuki is arching taut beneath her, shuddering as she draws deep, sobbing breaths. When Riko finally grinds her palm against her, Satsuki cries out with it, bucking against her hand as her body seizes around Riko's fingers. When she finally subsides against the bed, flushed and dazed, Riko settles against her and cuddles her close.
Eventually Satsuki stirs against her and kisses her again, soft, shaping words against Riko's mouth. "That was lovely."
"Mm," Riko agrees, feeling rather complacent herself. "We should have done this ages ago."
Satsuki giggles against her shoulder and doesn't make any gestures in the direction of getting up, which is fine by Riko. After a bit, she says, soft, "Same time next week?"
"Sounds good to me," Riko agrees.
After all, there's a knotted cherry stem in her coat pocket, waiting there like a promise, and she means to see it fulfilled.
end
Comments are always lovely!