Mizuki Sayeko had never been fond of the whole 'soulmates' concept, not when her past warned her of the side-effects of falling too deep into the lucid, hypnotising trap. With piercing gazes, a stone-cold heart, would her soulmates ever get through...
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"...KOUTAROU."
A broad grin stretched across his face, the artificial lights in the living room illuminating the gold fleck in his eyes. He shone with excitement, taking a step forward and sweeping her off her feet, an arm wrapped around her back and an arm wrapped under her knees, holding her close to his chest.
Mizuki's eyes widened, instinctively holding onto the owl-like male.
"I got you," he said, exiting the room and climbing up the stairs. "I won't drop you."
Mizuki held onto him tighter, arms wrapped around his neck and a content expression washing over her face. Bokuto opened the door to her bedroom with his elbow, pushing down on the handle and stepping in. He used his feet to shut the door, walking over to her bed and graciously dropping her on the bed. Mizuki landed with a slight jump, staring up at the thrilled male.
The two stared into each other's eyes, a smile breaking out across their faces. Bokuto moved forward, lowering his head, eyes gleaming with love and lust. He lowered his head, and Mizuki felt his hot breath fanning her face, then the tender brush of lips, burning as they made contact with her skin. She shuddered, reciprocating his movements easily. One of his hands ran through her luscious locks as their kisses became harder and more urgent. Another hand slid around her waist and pulled her close to his pine-scented body, his lips travelling down her face, brushing against her cheek, jaw, chin, and landing contently on her neck.
Mizuki's lips parted, a soft moan slipping past.
A wave of pure pleasure ran through Bokuto's entire body. Her voice was intoxicating. Her lips were intoxicating. Her skin was intoxicating.
She was intoxicating.
As he kissed his way gently up her neck to lips that tasted of cherry, the scenery disappeared, and both of them were lost in this moment. Everything was gone — the worries of their other soulmates feeling left out, the worries of their future after university, their worries of her scars on her legs. Everything had disappeared. All that mattered was now.
"Koutarou," she whispered, reaching up to grab the end of his shirt. "Please."
Bokuto complied with her unspoken wishes, stepping back and tugging off his shirt, revelling in the way her eyes zoned in on his muscles, absorbing every inch, taking into account the way they rippled under his skin.
You were the sun, she thought, and I was crashing into you. Her fingers reached for him, tracing every curve along his stomach. I'd wake up every morning and think, this will end in flames.
And as he pushed her back against the bed, hands reaching for her shirt and pulling it off with her permission, Mizuki thought she wouldn't mind burning every day if she got to have him like this.
