Chapter 9: The Fluttering Butterfly Wings (Part One).
He didn’t cuddle close afterward as usual, or soothe her with gentle kisses.
He lay still for seconds, then propped himself up on weak arms and sat silently.
Not once glancing at Ayata Aina, head bowed, long lashes veiling all emotion in his eyes.
He reached for scattered clothes on the floor, stood slowly, and headed straight to the bathroom—to wash away the stickiness and whatever else.
Snapping from her daze, Ayata Aina realized: again, she’d ended abruptly, leaving her partner unsatisfied.
Seeing Hoshiya Kaoru act as if nothing happened—calm to the point of indifference—a rush of failure, shame, and ignored anger exploded in her.
Her womanly pride felt trampled by his silent back.
Gritting teeth, she scooped him up in his shocked gaze and carried him to the bedroom.
Tonight, Ayata Aina would die trying to show her true dominance!
After another hour or two of struggle, she finally notched a “good” 1-6 record. Exhausted, she collapsed like mud on the wrecked bed, chest heaving, gasping, fingers too weak to lift.
It had been ages since such intense sessions; she’d pushed through on sheer will.
Drained, she remained oblivious to his concessions and her own mess, basking in twisted pride.
She rolled over, trembling arm pulling the flushed, sweat-damp, half-lidded Hoshiya Kaoru—seemingly spent—into her sweaty embrace.
As if this proved her unbeatable prowess.
Hoshiya Kaoru and his childhood sweetheart Ayata Aina had been together two years—deeply bonded, fights ending in bed.
[Today Aina tried so hard, didn’t give up easy like before… she cared about my feelings… forgive her.]
He forgave her, but didn’t forget her initial roughness.
Sometimes conflicts aren’t resolved—just shelved.
Not forgotten, just quietly noted in the heart’s invisible ledger.
One day, when entries pile up, it’s time for full settlement with interest…
Under the bedside light, Ayata Aina inspected every inch of Hoshiya Kaoru—neck, back, straight legs. No traces of another woman.
In post-intimacy warmth, she casually probed about the blonde.
From his tired replies, today was supposedly his first meeting with Kawasaki Rika.
This eased Ayata Aina slightly, but video scenes still pricked her heart like thorns.
They cuddled briefly. As Hoshiya Kaoru rose to shower, she suddenly said:
“Kaoru, promise me—no tattoos ever, okay?”
“Tattoo? Why would I?”
He turned, puzzled.
“Just promise.”
“Okay… I promise…”
Her request stemmed from the video: her pure Kaoru marked with alien Japanese text on his thigh—like defiling her treasured gem with corruption.
The possibility of her perfect possession tainted gnawed at her.
Little did she know, this seemingly meaningless promise—to soothe her unease—rippled like a butterfly’s wing, injecting a tiny, real variable into fate’s path…
One hundred days later, Hoshiya Kaoru lay glassy-eyed, lips parted. The tall blonde braced on all fours over the mattress, trapping him in the narrow space of bed and body.
She panted lightly, elbows by his ears—muscles bulging in strong, aesthetic curves.
Her shadow engulfed his beautiful face. She leaned down, kissing to ease his post-climax symptoms.
When the man below—now even more alluring—caught his breath, she sat up, stroking his sleek, tender legs.
On a whim, wanting to claim this perfect flesh, she teased lightly:
“In a few days, I’ll take you for a tattoo—right here, my name.”
Her finger traced his inner thigh.
After hours of intensity, his mind hazy, he nearly nodded instinctively.
But a flicker of clarity crossed his misty, enchanting eyes.
[I think I have a promise…]
“No… no tattoo…”
“Tch…”
The blonde heard his faint refusal. It was just a whim—fine, no tattoo.
But irritation at his defiance flared. She pinched his slender neck, squeezing just enough to cut air.
Hoshiya Kaoru didn’t struggle. Hands obediently touched hers, time ticking as lungs emptied.
Just before blackout, she released. Flushed, he gulped air desperately.
“That’s a good puppy.”
Satisfied, the blonde resumed the next round…