[Rinne lets go of her breast and hisses through his teeth. The growl low in his chest thins into a whine that breaks in his throat. Another slow stroke, and he rests his head on her pillow. He can't help it. This is new.]

Shut up. Serves you right. You're always teasing me...

[He swallows, but the rest of his saliva trickles down his chin if not onto Ai's skin, and he's not sure how he's supposed to come back from this. They've practically burnt this shameless scene into each other's minds: their bodies on top of one another, skin slick with sweat and spit. Ai's seen all of Rinne now. She'll be living with that forever. Rinne, too—after hearing her confession and listening to her moan, he doesn't think he can ever look at her the same way again. He has to make her his.

When Ai slides the ring of her fingers down his cock, Rinne pumps his fingers in deeper, drawing tighter circles and matching her careful pace. This way, they can at least close their eyes and pretend—if that's what Ai wants. Because now that Rinne's been caught off guard, he's also sobering up. And when Rinne sobers up, he starts thinking again.]

Besides, what if— [He bites his lip. He knows he shouldn't make her think about anything, but he has enough sense to be a little responsible.] You'd hate it if I came inside, wouldn't you? So...

[So if he can make her come with his fingers, that should be just as good. Right? She can be satisfied with that, right?

Right?]