Red As Snow...(BWAM, Yakuza Romance, 18+)

Chapter Thirty Four

Sexual Content Up Ahead!!

As the gown slips and pools at my feet, I feel those eyes as they spear and scorch holes into my backside. I make no attempts to conceal my nudity, make no attempts to act in modesty. Taking hold of the large dress shirt offered to me by him, one of a blazing blue hue, I slip it on effortlessly, button it all the way up to just below my collar bone.

Finally, I turn to glance upon Tsumibito. In a manner, I am grateful that he obliged, retrieved that damned piece of metal from my body. Oh the simple touch of freedom, that little kiss of liberty. My heart swells, it flutters in my chest.

I blink to dispell all plunging thoughts, drinking in the mesmerizing beauty of him. His back leans into the headboard, his broad tatted chest and curvy torso nude, the sheets draping dangerously low by his waist line. I draw closer to the bed, sit myself right next to him beneath the covers. But it seems that much is not enough.

His arm pulls me in, draws me closer to the heat of his body so that now, my head rests upon his chest. He dims the lights, grabs the little remote thingy, switches on the TV shortly after.
"What would you like to watch, Rosa?"
"Surprise me."
"I am not familiar with any movies, Rosa," his voice vibrates in his chest.
Oh, that would be correct.

So, I suggest the name of some rom-com in the hopes that it should lighten my heart. And in the next hour and half or so in the quietness, we just lay there. Occasionally, Tsumibito sighs frustratedly or chuckles to himself or offers his own interpretation of one aspect of the movie or the other. And in that time, I find a new serenity. It's as though I return back to the mundane world. It's as though I were spending time with a...lover.

A thought comes to mind, one that has me sitting up and looking to Tsumibito expectantly. He looks back upon me quizzically, his brows furrowing in quit confusion.
"What is it, Rosa?" Comes his baritone.
"Do you recall when we'd first met?"
"Yes, I do. Rosa..."
"No, just listen, Tsumibito. Do you remember how you sang to me? That song you claimed would lull you to sleep?"

Realization strikes and his eyes roll. He actually rolls his eyes at me.
"Could you perhaps sing for me?"
"I haven't done so in a really long while."
Still, I gaze upon him in anticipation and he just lets out a slow sigh. And so, after minutes of patience and waiting, the melodies come to me. Sweet, soothing, lovely are the harmonies that softly tickle my ears.

I have not the slightest clue what the song says. I have no understanding of the language in which he sings. And yet my head sways to the gentleness of it, to the preciousness of how his voice lifts and falls and how he hits notes so perfectly. When it all ends, his eyes flutter open. A soft smile curves onto his lips and I cannot help but reciprocate the beautiful gesture.

"You sing so beautifully, Tsumibito, goodness," I chirp animatedly.
I notice it, notice the tint of red that colours his cheeks.
"I know I do."
The quietness returns once more. I gaze upon him, watch him watch me. And a new sort of emotion laces the atmosphere. Perhaps I imagine it. Perhaps he too feels it.

I have no idea why, but I find myself drawing nearer to him, cupping his face in my palms, bringing his lips to my own. Passionately, possessively, I claim his mouth, our tongues tasting, pleasing, teasing. His palms bring me by the arse to him so that now, I straddle him.

Our lips detach, his moving to plant little trails of kisses from my jawline, down to the hollow and up -right to the pulse of my neck. I give a little moan where his mouth meets my skin, my arms moving to slither around his neck, toying with his hairs idly. I feel how his fingers work to unbutton the shirt, how his knuckles brush against my skin every single time he does.