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Chuuya’s father beams with glee. The large man drops his leather briefcase on the tiled floor and embraces his wife's much smaller frame, lifting her up for a moment, before announcing the reason for his burst of happiness that couldn’t wait until after dinner.
“Guess who got invited to the boss’s house for a networking event.”
Chuuya turns off her vintage Gameboy console, a spur-of-the-moment purchase she made on their last road trip through the prefecture when they went to visit her grandparents. That was three years ago. Back then there was still a reason to go on the road trip. Now, her father loses himself in his work on the regular, working his ass off for Mori Ougai who lives in a city a whole hour away from the shithole of a town where Chuuya grew up for the past nineteen years.
“That’s amazing!” Her mother gushes along, still high from the way she was greeted.
“The whole family is invited. I’ve been managing his branch here for a whole year now, and it’s finally paying off! He’s going to promote me for sure.” Chuuya’s father excitedly clenches his fists.
“Wait..” Chuuya’s thumb stops fumbling with the buttons on the console, “You mean I have to come as well?”
This is a big deal. Getting invited to Mori Ougai’s house for an informal networking event like this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for someone like them. Nobodies from who knows where casually coming over to a multimillionaire’s house for chit-chat and fancy crab cakes— what a joke. Years of ass-licking from her ambitious father seem to have finally paid off.
“Absolutely,”
“No way. I don’t want to.”
“Chuuya, this is a huge deal for your father.” Her mother cuts in.
“I know, but why do I have to go?” Chuuya groans.
“It’s going to be fun. My boss has a daughter, about your age. Maybe you can befriend her? It’s always good to have friends like that.”
Chuuya crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, “You want me to suck up to his daughter so that you can get the promotion.”
“That’s not what I said.” Her father stammers, sweat of irritation already forming on his forehead. But she knows that it’s what he meant. Still, she doesn’t argue for long because her will does not matter much in this house and the outcome is always the same; she agrees and her parents reward her with promises of a shinier life somewhere down the road. Sometimes she wants to scream at them that she doesn’t want it. She never has the guts to actually do it, so she hides in her room or the attic and smokes cigarettes while her mother kneels in the garden and her father is off licking someone’s ass.
Two weeks pass in a breeze and before she knows it, Chuuya is in the backseat of her parent's silver Opel, wearing a yellow summer dress that makes her look, quote, ‘neat and adorable’, meaning she at least looks like she won’t embarrass her father in front of his colleagues.
Her mother even had her hair done for the occasion, adorned her neck with pretty white pearls, and put on her favorite polka-dot dress. It’s supposed to be a pool party but Chuuya doubts her parents will go anywhere near the water. Unless Mori Ougai personally tells them to of course.
Chuuya always knew that a man like Mori probably lives in a home befitting his income. But nothing she imagined lives up to the first impression she gets when her father finally passes through the gates and pulls into the driveway in front of the mansion.
Her stomach churns with anxiety, and hunger because she knows better than to have breakfast before car rides. A man in a white polo shirt and black pants comes up to the car and greets her father as soon as he steps out. He’s nobody of importance, she realizes, when he grabs the keys out of her father’s offering hand and assures him that he will take good care of his oh so precious Opel. Probably by parking it in the furthest corner of the outside parking area. Her father turns a bright shade of red, and laughs it off but Chuuya can tell that he’s aware his car is one of the least fancy ones here.
Chuuya takes a final deep breath and unbuckles herself, slides out of the car and steps into the crunchy brown pebble pathway leading to the dark brick mansion. She expected something different. A luxurious maison in the centre of the city, a rich neighbourhood where botox wifes walk their chihuahuas for exercise and brag about their vacation plans.
Above her head, the sun seeps through the fresh green leaves of thick tree tops, casting a pattern on everything around her. The air smells fresh and crisp here despite the initial summer heat that warranted an event like this.
She finds that she likes it, somehow. It looks like a rather peaceful place to spend life in.
Her mother’s hand squeezes her shoulder and pulls her to her side. Like this, one might assume she actually is her daughter. She inherited her vibrant copper hair and never even thought about covering up the freckles on her face and shoulders, unlike her mother, who invests her wifely allowance into blonde box dye and high-coverage makeup.
Sometimes Chuuya wonders if her mother even finds her beautiful at all, with the hair and the freckles and all the other flaws that she tries to cover up on herself.
She doesn’t ponder on it for long, partly because the answer could be painful, and also because the sound of rich laughter and violin music interrupts her thoughts.
Passing right through the house at the guidance of one such polo shirt-wearing gentlemen, she gets a first glimpse of the bustling backyard. Filled with people she’s never seen before, all dressed in light but proper clothes, she can’t seem to find a single bikini strap on any of the women. A pool party is what this is supposed to be. Yet the water in the pool is still and all the guests are dry, literally and figuratively.
It smells of pool water and grilled sausages. There’s a grill stand not too far from where they are, but her mother keeps a firm grip on her. Chuuya’s stomach churns. Her mother is too anxious to let her go. She has to wait for Chuuya’s father to come and take her away so that she doesn’t have to talk to any of the other wives here on her own. Chuuya understands so she stays still.
Inferiority is something her family knows well. It’s what her father is trying to overcome so fiercely. Chuuya can’t help but admire him for it a little bit.
He comes rushing over to them, muttering something about the car having been parked in the sunniest spot. Ha, called it.
Chuuya’s mother finally lets go and clings to her husband’s arm like a frightened monkey instead. Chuuya can finally breathe in. There’s that wonderful scent of grilled goodness again.
She gets in line for a plate of food, she can already feel the plastic plate in her hands when suddenly, a skinny pale arm reaches in and snatches the plate away right in front of her nose. Chuuya’s reaction time be damned, because when she turns around to confront the thief, there’s no one there to confront.
“What the hell?”
“Don’t worry lil’ missy. I’m gonna fix you up a new plate.” The middle-aged man behind the grill mutters. He does so with a sighing tone, something that tells her this isn’t an unusual occurrence.
“Did you see who did that?” She asks.
“Don’t need to see it to know who that lil’ rascal is.”
“I know rich people steal from the less fortunate but this is ridiculous.” Chuuya clicks her tongue. The man chuckles at her remark but doesn’t comment.
With a new plate of food, she sets out to find her parents. Which isn’t very hard to do seeing as how her father’s laugh is very distinguishable from the crowd and he’s currently sitting at a garden table with none other than Mori Ougai himself. Chuuya’s mother urgently waves her over with a big grin and Chuuya has no choice but to comply.
She avoids eye contact as she walks over, sets her plate down on the table, and sits down next to her father. He swings one heavy arm around her shoulder and says, “This is my daughter, Chuuya.”
Mori offers a sly smile that reveals his perfect set of white teeth. “Nice to make your acquaintance. I’ve seen your picture on your father’s desk.”
“Oh, he still has that?” Chuuya chuckles awkwardly.
“Sure do.” Her father says with affection, “But that picture is old. I can’t believe she’s already nineteen.”
“Ah, you’re the same age as my Osamu then.” Mori nods over to the side and that’s when Chuuya sees her. A girl with a presence so ghostly, she didn’t notice her until now.
“Dazai.” She corrects her father with a smooth honey voice.
Dazai sits with a straight back but she doesn’t seem proper, the way one would expect. Her head is propped up on her hands with her bony fingers tapping against her sunburned cheeks. Her brown hair is long, reaching down to her hips, and dark like melted chocolate on a hot summer day. She’s pale too, all over, without a single freckle or scar. Suddenly, Chuuya feels aware of her spottiness.
The girl smiles– no, grins at her and her eyes gleam with quiet mischief.
The hell?
Wait–!
Chuuya’s eyes widen with realization; That bitch stole her food!
Dazai bears her teeth in a wide smile while Chuuya bites down on her cheek to keep herself from cursing. Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing. That bitch, that rich little pompous bi–
“I saw you around earlier,” Dazai says. “Nice dress.”
“Thanks,” Chuuya replies through gritted teeth.
They continue to stare at each other while their parents get lost in conversation once again. The smug look never leaves Dazai’s face and it only serves to make Chuuya angrier. She juts out her chin, stabs the sausage with the fork, and dips it into ketchup, bringing it up to take a bite.
“You like sausages?”
Chuuya chokes.
“Yeah, I had the same reaction the first time I tried one.” Dazai tilts her head and smiles reminiscently.
“What the hell are you on about?!” Chuuya whisper-yells at her. She glances at her parents but they’re too busy gawking at Mori as he talks.
Dazai lifts her fork and takes a crisp bite of her own sausage, then scrunches her nose. “I personally prefer steak.”
Oh.
Oh?
Chuuya coughs and reaches for her father’s beer bottle. Woah. Is she being flirted with right now?
“Steak is fine.” she mutters, “Haven’t had a good one in a while.”
“Ah.” Dazai nods, “That’s unfortunate.”
“It is.” Chuuya’s head sinks into her shoulders and she wipes her mouth in an attempt to hide her redness. If only she would stop staring at her…
She finishes her plate at record speed, making quick work of the remaining sausage, and excuses herself to put it away. She squeezes herself past the people, careful not to get ketchup on any fancy dresses or shirts, or herself.
She has been to parties before but nothing like this. The ones she went to were held in underground garages or abandoned factories on the side of town, filled with weed-smoking junkies and sex-seeking horndogs and she was right there in the middle, soaking it all in, thinking that this is the meaning of youth.
How wrong she was. How stupid and naive and only seventeen. Now she knows better, but the stick-and-poke tattoo on her left hip will never fade away.
Chuuya puts her dishes away and turns around to go look for a hiding spot when her ankle gets caught on something. A flash of white and a hand around her wrist are the last thing she sees before she falls and the pool water splashes around her and the person she pulled along.
Disoriented, she starts to thrash around and pull herself up to the surface. She’s small, dammit, she can’t even reach the floor of the pool.
As she gasps for air, a second head pops out of the water.
Dazai barely moves, what— with her long legs she can easily reach all the way down. She blinks at Chuuya and droplets of water fall off her long curved lashes.
“Are you always so clumsy?” She asks.
“I’m going to fucking drown you.” Chuuya coughs out. Fuck, the chlorine really burns in the back of her throat now.
“In front of an audience?”
Shit. She’s right. Their little accident has successfully captured the attention of most of not all nearby guests. Chuuya searches anxiously for her parents, for the disappointed look on her father’s face and already she can hear the rant he will go on on the car ride back home.
Sensing her change from anger to distress, Dazai grabs her by the shoulders and her wet cheek leans into her hair to whisper a quick, “Let’s go hide, Chuuya.”
Chuuya’s spine tingles and goosebumps cover her arms. Dazed, she lets the strange girl lead her out of the water. Her yellow dress clings to her legs and makes her feel ridiculous but when she looks around it seems that no one is paying her any mind. She glances back at Dazai and air catches in her throat at the sight.
Dazai’s once white dress clings to every curve of her body, like translucent silk, leaving little to the imagination. Chuuya mentally scolds herself for immediately noting her chest and the hardness of her nipples.
What impresses her most is how Dazai acts like nothing is wrong. Like she doesn’t have the attention of thirty people on her perky ass right now. Like this isn’t going to cause an argument with her father later.
Dazai pushes her to keep walking and they make their way inside the house, leaving a trail of water behind them as they make their way upstairs. Chuuya nearly slips out of her sandals and Dazai grabs her hand to keep her steady. It’s cold and bony but oddly comfortable to hold.
Dazai takes her to her room on the highest floor and far away from the noises outside. “Wait here for a second.”
She disappears behind another door and leaves Chuuya stranded in the middle of the room. It’s spacious and just chaotic enough to look lived in but not enough to make Chuuya uncomfortable. There is a bookshelf in the corner and a vanity with a minimal amount of makeup next to it. A huge bed with a fluffy sky-blue duvet marks the middle of the room. Polaroids stick to the wall around the black headboard but none of them are of friends or family. Plants, mountains, and rivers of various kinds but no people. Not even Dazai herself.
Chuuya assumes the two doors each lead to a separate bathroom and a walk-in closet. What she’s most jealous of though, is the glass door to a balcony. Even from her little wet spot here, she can admire the luscious view of the surrounding tree scenery. What a lucky bitch indeed.
“Catch.”
Chuuya’s head snaps back and Dazai throws a rolled-up towel at her.
“Thanks, uh—“ Chuuya’s lips part in shock.
Dazai stands in front of her, black robe hanging off her shoulders barely tied at her hips. She rubs her dripping hair with a towel and looks at her expectantly.
“Uhh…”
“You’ll catch a cold like this.” Dazai chuckles. Chuuya’s face burns but she’s not quite sure which of the several things she’s feeling right now is responsible for that.
“Want me to turn around?” Dazai asks.
Chuuya nods. With a smiley pout, Dazai complies and turns her back to her.
Chuuya makes quick work of her dress and underwear, pulling them off and dropping them on the floor next to her abandoned sandals. She quickly rubs herself dry and wraps the towel around herself.
“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”
“Take what you want.” Dazai nods in the general direction of the other door.
Chuuya tip-toes over and enters the walk-in closet, closing the door behind herself again. She takes a deep breath in and scans the room. A lot of black and white with a few specks of color here and there. She rummages through the shirts on the hangers for a bit and ends up grabbing one of the large band shirts, as well as a pair of shorts and…underwear.
It’s not like she has a choice!
When she steps out again, her wet clothes are gone and Dazai uses her foot to rub the spot dry with the towel she previously used on her head.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, cutie.”
Chuuya frowns, “Don’t call me that.”
“But you’re cute.”
“Am not.”
“Sure are.”
“Fuck off.”
Dazai sticks her tongue out at her and drops down on her bed. Chuuya rubs her ankle with her foot, uncertain of what to do now.
“It’s nice to have another girl come over for a change,” Dazai says.
“Is that so unusual?”
“Normally my dad’s subordinates bring their sons, for networking and stuff like that.” Dazai makes a swirly motion with her hand. “Or so they can hit on me, marry me, and take my dad’s money.”
“Woah,” Chuuya frowns, “I thought that only happens in dramas.”
“Me too. Until like…three years ago.” Dazai counts them on her fingers.
“Sixteen?” Chuuya’s voice betrays her surprise.
“Sixteen is the perfect age for naive business heiresses to accidentally become pregnant.” Dazai says in a sing-song voice.
Chuuya makes her way over and sits down on the edge of the bed, “That’s…disgusting.”
Dazai breathes a ‘yes’ and turns to her, pulling her knees up onto the bed. Chuuya swallows. She can see the curve of her chest like this.
“Got any girl friends then?” She asks, to distract from her flustered self.
“I went to school with a bunch of snakes.”
“We have that in common.”
Dazai giggles and it’s a pretty sound. Like tiny bells ringing softly through a layer of cotton.
“You know,” Chuuya presses her knees together until the bones hurt, “I’m supposed to make friends with you so that you can convince your dad to give mine a promotion.”
Dazai smiles at her and nuzzles her face into the softness of the duvet, “So you want to be my friend?”
Chuuya snorts, “I still kind of want to drown you.”
Dazai laughs and Chuuya chuckles along. A skinny pale arm grabs her and pulls her down, and Chuuya doesn’t even feel like resisting it this time.
***
“Are you sure this is fine?” Chuuya’s mother asks for the umpteenth time.
“Of course,” Mori offers a charming smile, “We’d love to have Chuuya stay over the weekend. It’s no problem at all.”
The two girls stand barefoot on the porch, sharing a blanket over their shoulders and watch as Chuuya’s father finally shakes Mori’s hand and urges his wife into the car.
It was Dazai’s idea to have a spontaneous sleepover. To no one’s surprise, Chuuya’s father agreed to it from the get-go, and so did Mori. Only Chuuya’s mother made a bit of a fuss about it. Chuuya has never stayed anywhere so far away from home without them.
But they trust Mori with their income so trusting them with their daughter for a weekend probably wasn’t too hard to agree to.
Mori is just glad his daughter finally found someone she likes enough to have over for not just one, but two nights.
Chuuya waves her parents goodbye and follows Dazai back inside. Mori excuses himself and leaves them alone in the living room, where they plop down on the couch with a few boxes of leftovers from earlier and some snacks.
“So what’s the deal with you and your dad?” Chuuya asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you have two different last names?”
“Oh, that.” Dazai plops a candy into her mouth and wipes an imaginary tear away, “My poor mother realized family life isn’t for her so she took a lover and fled to Italy ten years ago.”
Chuuya makes a face, “For real?”
“For real for real.”
“And you kept her name?”
“Sure did.”
“Wait…” Chuuya bites off a piece of a soggy fry, “Does that mean Mori was once a ‘Dazai’?”
“My father colors himself a progressive man.” Dazai shrugs.
“Huh. Interesting.”
“I don’t really look like a Mori, do I?”
“No. You look like a bitch.”
Dazai laughs out loud, “Same thing.”
Chuuya snorts at that. That girl is hard to offend. Not that she’s seriously trying or anything.
They don’t stay in the living for long, mostly because they can’t decide what movie to watch and because Dazai suddenly decides she wants to show Chuuya something.
“I need a woman’s opinion on a few things.”
Dazai pushes Chuuya to sit on the bed and disappears into her closet. A good few minutes pass before she finally emerges, sporting a bright red bikini.
“So?” She puts her hands on her hips.
“Uhm.” Chuuya licks her lip, “Huh?”
“Opinion?”
“It looks good?” Chuuya leans back.
“Does it make me look like a slut?”
“It looks good,” Chuuya repeats.
This is a nightmare. All this talk about steak and sluts and now this really annoyingly pretty girl insists on modeling her bikini collection for her all because her mother is getting busy somewhere in Italy.
“You’re not very helpful, Chuuya.”
“Turn around.”
Dazai bites down her next remark and turns around. Most of her back is covered by her hair but Chuuya has a perfect view of her cute butt and the single string of fabric that disappears between her plump cheeks.
“Yeah— yeah, it looks…slutty.”
Dazai swings around, “Really?”
“Mhh.” Chuuya hums.
“Okay, hold on— I’ve got more.”
“Dazai—“
But the girl is already gone behind the door. Chuuya whines and falls back on the bed. She promised herself she’d come here and be on her best behavior, then leave. Now she’s in a rich girl’s room judging bikinis by their factor of sluttiness.
“Okay, this is one of my favorites.” Dazai presents herself in a white triangle bikini top and a matching bottom. The top is tied around her neck and little silver details dangle from the tied strings on her hips.
Dazai looks at her expectantly.
Chuuya sighs and rubs her face, “Dazai. You look amazing in all the clothes I’ve seen you in so far.”
“Just amazing?” Dazai asks. She sounds impatient.
“What exactly do you want to hear me say?”
Dazai bites her lip and shrugs. “I don’t know to be honest. I saw this kind of scene in a movie and it looked fun. Forget it.” She shakes her head in defeat and turns away.
Chuuya curses under her breath and gets up, “Fuck, wait Dazai—“
The girl stops dead in her tracks. She looks smaller now and it takes Chuuya far too long to realize that it’s from shame. Carefully, she grabs her hand, pulls her back to the bed, and pushes her down onto it to keep her from running away again.
“Do you want to look slutty?”
Dazai looks up at her with interest, “Maybe?”
“Why?”
Dazai shrugs, “Slutty clothes make people pay attention to me.”
“I think you need a therapist,” Chuuya mutters.
“Been there, done that.”
“Seriously?”
“Had three of them actually.”
“And what did they say?”
Dazai grins, “I have deep-rooted mommy issues and no idea how healthy relationships work.”
“Ah.” Chuuya feels the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose, “There’s obviously more wrong with you if you ask a girl you’ve barely known for half a day to rate you in skimpy beachwear.”
“You already brushed my hair and you’re wearing my underwear right now. Oh, and I’ve shown you my dried flower collection. That’s basically a marriage.”
“Your therapists were spot on. Let’s go back to the part where you say you want to look like a slut so people pay attention to you.”
“Try living without neighbors, cats, and friends for a few years and see how that aids your healthy emotional development.” Dazai whines and tries to sit back up only for Chuuya to push her back down.
“Quit the smart-assing and tell me what you really want from me right now.”
Dazai’s bottom lip juts out in defiance, “Why make me say it if you already know?”
“How do you know I already know?”
“Why else would you keep me pinned to my bed right now?”
“Bitch.”
“I won. You’re finally paying really close attention to me.”
There’s that mischievous gleam in her eyes again and Chuuya can’t help but feel the desire to turn it into something different.
“I hate you.” Chuuya groans and leans down until Dazai’s gasp hits her lips. They brush against each other, not yet a kiss, light and feathery— a preview with the chance to pull away before it’s too late.
Dazai’s chin tilts up and her eyes close as she presses a real kiss on Chuuya’s lips. She kisses as though she’s expecting something. Something she’s afraid of. Not of Chuuya, but of rejection, of loss, and objectification. She’s holding back.
Chuuya knows the feeling. When you want something really bad but are too scared to ask for it because it never turns out the way you imagine. Right now, she finds that she wants to give Dazai all she could ask for, to fill her cracks where they are slowly starting to show.
And it’s scary, that all it took was half a day and a little digging to crack her open. How long was she holding it in for?
Chuuya kisses her back with fervor, cupping her face with confident hands and letting her know with every brush of lips against lips that she regards her not because of her lack of clothes but because of the genuineness in every decision she has made today. Dazai has her right where she wants her and Chuuya won’t waste her efforts.
The girl beneath her trembles with excitement. Her desperate hands glide into Chuuya’s auburn waves while Chuuya’s wrap around her waist and pull her up.
Chuuya can’t think straight. A pretty girl is straddling her thighs, holding her like she is wanted, desired even.
She strokes Dazai’s side, up and down with gentle fingers yet never quite daring to touch anything covered by fabric.
Dazai’s lips part and Chuuya finally tastes her. She doesn’t want to stop, all thoughts blow away with a breeze until all she can see, feel, and taste is Dazai.
Dazai, who moans into her mouth and caresses Chuuya’s jawline with shy fingers, so unlike the version of herself that she met earlier today. As though all that confidence dissipated into thin air now that it’s just the two of them.
A sign of trust, perhaps? Chuuya hopes so.
Dazai tastes of all things she’s scared of, and Chuuya kisses her with the wish to show her all the gentleness she’s missed out on. A perfect match, albeit a fresh one.
They pull away for a gasp of air, only Chuuya prefers to breathe in the sweet scent of Dazai’s neck. Soon enough, her teeth are grazing the skin there, while putting Dazai down into the pillows.
“Chuuya?” Dazai asks, still catching her breath.
“Hm?”
“Do you want to…?”
Chuuya shakes her head and finally lets off of Dazai’s neck, “Not today.”
She pecks her lips, “I want this to be different than how I usually do it.”
“Me too,” Dazai admits.
“Good.” Chuuya pulls the blanket over them. Despite the kisses they just shared, she hesitates to come close again. Only when Dazai’s arms wrap around her neck and pull her closer, does she allow herself to relax into Dazai’s warm skin and tangle their legs together.
***
“Sunday is a great day for a swim”, Mori says to them at the breakfast table the next day.
“We could go to the lake.” Dazai yawns and smears some butter on toast.
Mori flips the page on his newspaper, “We have a perfectly good pool right here in our backyard, Osamu.”
Dazai shrugs, “We can go to both.”
“Only if you promise to be careful.”
Chuuya groggily sips her coffee and spectates this father-daughter conversation. Dazai asked her if she looks like a Mori. At first, Chuuya wanted to deny it but looking at it now, the two of them have something about them that would give their bond away to even a stranger.
Is it the mannerisms? The way they move their hands, their heads, their faces? Maybe it’s the unwillingness to let the other have the last word even in the most mundane conversation.
The longer she stares, the more she sees Mori in Dazai. And she wonders, do people see Chuuya’s father in her too?
“Chuuuya.”
“Huh? Sorry—“
“I asked if you want more toast,” Dazai says.
“Ah, sure.”
Dazai smears some butter on her toast and lovingly drops it on Chuuya’s plate. As she reaches for the honey for her toast, Chuuya glances at Dazai’s neck. The white string of her bikini bra sticks out from under the black top she’s wearing.
Her feet rub together under the table as she remembers her shock when she woke up next to Dazai and realized that she’s still wearing that. And intends to keep wearing that for the rest of the day, or at least until they come back from the aquatic adventures.
Chuuya doesn’t know if she can handle it.
After breakfast, Dazai insists that Chuuya picks out a bikini for herself. Chuuya settles on a pretty green one because it makes Dazai’s eyes sparkle a little bit when she tries it on.
“Actually, I think you should keep this one for yourself.” She says as Chuuya puts her clothes on again.
“Dazai, that’s a Chanel bikini,” Chuuya says, bewildered.
“You don’t like Chanel?”
“I don’t own Chanel.”
“Oh.” Dazai says genuinely surprised, “Now you do.”
They argue about it all the way to the lake which is located a good twenty minutes away by foot. Dazai leads the way while Chuuya carries the bag with the blanket and sunscreen that Mori insists they take with them.
In the end, they both come to the quiet conclusion that Dazai will get what she wants and Chuuya will get a free Chanel bikini.
They spread out the blanket under the shadow of a tree and lather each other’s backs in sunscreen. Chuuya’s spine tingles as Dazai’s hand spreads the cream and lifts the strings of her bikini top to get under there as well.
The water in the lake is cold and takes some getting used to. Dazai grabs Chuuya’s hand under the guise of ‘We have to go in at the same time’ and pulls her further and further into the water.
They spend a while just dipping and swimming around, racing each other, then playing catch, until eventually their limbs start to ache from exhaustion and they begin to float on the surface of the water like two fallen leaves.
By then, the temperature of the water doesn’t seem so cold anymore and Chuuya feels as though she’s spent every summer of her life with Dazai in this very lake.
“Oww!”
Chuuya’s relaxed body goes stiff and she turns in the water to look, “What’s wrong?”
Dazai's face is contorted in pain and she’s upright in the water, flailing her arms to stay up.
“Leg cramp.” She hisses and squeezes her eyes shut.
Chuuya swims over and reaches underneath Dazai’s arms. “Try to relax.” She instructs and starts kicking to propel them back to land.
Dazai hisses and plops down onto the blanket, immediately beginning to knead her tensed-up calf. Chuuya sits down next to her.
“You should stretch it.”
“It hurts too bad.”
“Trust me.” Chuuya pushes down on Dazai’s knee and grabs her foot to angle it up and stretch the calf.
Dazai whines in pain at first but her expression soon changes to relief. Chuuya gently massages her calf for her and makes a little ‘tsk’ sound. “You need to stretch more and take some supplements.”
“I don’t usually have cramps when I swim,” Dazai mutters.
“And I don’t usually hang out with spoiled brats. What would have happened if I wasn’t here?”
“I would have drowned.” Dazai shrugs.
Chuuya frowns and lies down next to her, “Don’t say that like it’s nothing.”
“If you hadn’t been here today you wouldn’t have cared anyway, Chuuya.”
“That’s—“ Chuuya bites her tongue. That’s true, but still. Now she cares, sort of.
Dazai pouts and the urge to kiss it away overcomes Chuuya. And that’s exactly what she does. She leans forward and Dazai’s hand in her hair doesn’t let her move away again.
They’re more confident with their kisses this time. Dazai is no longer asking, but demanding to be unraveled and Chuuya is only too eager to comply.
Letting Dazai straddle one of her thighs, Chuuya pulls at the strings on the side of her hips, undoing the ribbons holding it all together. Dazai’s bare core finally glides against Chuuya’s tan thigh. Her demanding nature fades a little and for the first time, Chuuya sees her blush and hide away behind her hands.
Chuuya’s lips curl into a sly smile and her hands take hold of Dazai’s hips, guiding them back and forth slowly, yet purposefully without asserting any pressure.
Dazai will have to betray herself and ask for it.
She gives her a desperate look through the gaps between her fingers. “Chuuya.”
“What?”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
Dazai looks troubled for a moment then asks, “Close your eyes?”
Suspicious, but okay. Chuuya does as asked and gasps softly when Dazai adjusts herself and finally sinks down with her full weight. She rolls her hips, shy but firm, against her thigh and moans at the delicious drag of her clit against Chuuya’s skin.
Dazai’s hands move away from her face and her fingers slip under the hem of Chuuya’s wet bikini top, cupping her breasts. Her thumbs playfully stroke the buds, still hard from the coolness of the water and she leans down to kiss Chuuya once again, already missing her lips.
Chuuya’s eyes remain closed as her fingers curiously travel up Dazai’s sides and to the back where Dazai’s bikini top is held together only by a single bow. She lightly grazes just underneath it with her nail, smiling when a shiver runs down Dazai’s spine.
Her explorations earn her a pinch to her nipples and a mean bite to her bottom lip. It only serves to spurn her on more so she grasps the string and pulls the bow apart.
Chuuya wraps her arms around Dazai and pulls her down until their soft chests press against each other, with Dazai still rolling her hips and chasing her nearing orgasm. They breathe hard, kiss even harder, and caress each other’s hot skin with desperate and curious hands. Chuuya can’t tell anymore whether it’s her own heartbeat pounding in her chest or Dazai’s. They’re too close for it to matter anymore.
Dazai presses her nose into Chuuya’s neck and whimpers as her hips jerk frantically like her body is unsure whether to chase the orgasm or not.
Chuuya pushes some of Dazai’s hair behind her ear while her other hand lies flat on Dazai’s lower back, urging her to keep grinding. “Don’t stop,” she commands.
“Chuuya!”
Dazai’s eyes are closed tightly and her breath trembles in her throat, “Fuck—“
“Feels good doesn’t it?” Chuuya teases, “That’s what you wanted from me all along.”
“Please—“
“Yes.” Chuuya kisses the curve of Dazai’s hot shoulder. “Come on, ‘samu.”
Dazai sobs with relief and heaves when the pleasure finally explodes. Her whole body shakes and it’s a nice sight for sure. Yes, Chuuya couldn’t help but open her eyes to see it. There is, however, nothing sweeter than the sweet sobs spilling out of Dazai’s mouth when Chuuya reaches down to feel just how wet she has gotten.
Before she knows it, her fingers are covered in the slick that is already spread all over her thigh. She slowly circles two fingers around the little pearl between her folds, making Dazai’s body spasm with overstimulation, trying to get away from it only to push back against her hand again. She wants more, even if she can’t currently handle it.
“Spoiled brat,” Chuuya mutters and wraps an arm around Dazai’s waist to keep her in place as she flips them over and her hand picks up the pace. It doesn’t take long to bring Dazai right back up to the edge she has just fallen from and Chuuya relishes in the sight of it.
Dazai is on her back now, her breasts shaking with every gasp she takes as Chuuya works her magic. The slick makes every flip and rub of her clit feel so much more intense, and it only makes her wetter.
“I’m— ah— Chuuya!” Dazai’s fingers dig into the grass above her head. Her eyes are shut but the burning sun makes her see orange and her lips gasp for air but Chuuya covers them with her own.
Her wrist is exhausted and Dazai is squeezing her arm with her thighs, but the pain is so worth it when Dazai’s chest heaves and arches against Chuuya’s and she orgasms, chanting her name over and over against Chuuya’s cheek like a prayer of utmost gratitude.
“Shh…” Chuuya pecks Dazai’s chin. Her hand finally comes free from between those delicate thighs and Chuuya glances down to look at the mess she’s made. It’s beautiful. Red and puffy, droplets of clear slick still spill out of Dazai and onto the blanket.
“Chuuya.”
“How many more times are you going to say my name?”
“Until you sit on my face.” Even fucked out as she is, Dazai manages a shit-eating grin. Chuuya wants to wipe it off her pretty face and fortunately, the solution was already given to her.
“I’m not going to hover, just so you know.” She warns Dazai and takes off her bikini bottom.
“Oh, I know,” Dazai says, staring at her with hungry eyes and a seemingly even hungrier mouth. That look alone sends a tingle south.
Chuuya straddles Dazai’s head, facing her legs and using her waist to hold as she lowers herself on the willing mouth that she’s been wanting to shut up ever since she laid eyes on Dazai.
Dazai’s tongue should count as a weapon, the way a single flick of it against Chuuya’s clit sends a bolt of pleasure all the way into the very core of her brain.
Dazai is not ceremonial in the way she devours Chuuya. She doesn’t take her time to tease, which seems so unlike her, and instead eats her out like she will never get the chance to again.
She will. Chuuya has just decided that she will.
“Mhh, yes.” She encourages her, grinding down against that tongue.
Maybe there’s a benefit to growing up without neighbors, cats, and friends. It’s an awful thought and one that she will keep to herself but if it means Chuuya can get eaten out like this by a girl who starves for her unlike anyone ever has…well, she’s not going to pass up on that.
Dazai’s tongue settles down for a moment and circles her clit at a steady pace, simple but oh-so-effective at drawing out sounds from the redhead. She’s already so sensitive and turned on that the only thing she can concentrate on is the way Dazai alternates between abusing her clit with flicks and bites and dipping her tongue into her hole to taste even more of her.
Chuuya’s grinding becomes messy– more demanding the more pressure builds up in her stomach.
“Don’t stop, fuck—“ Chuuya whines and throws her head back. Beneath her, Dazai makes encouraging sounds and digs her nails into the flesh of Chuuya’s thighs. It’s unclear which one of them presses themselves more into the other. Dazai doesn’t care to breathe and Chuuya wouldn’t let her anyway.
The string snaps and the coil in Chuuya’s stomach becomes undone. She flings forward, writhing from the mind-blowing orgasm, and rides it out on Dazai’s lips with breathy chants of praises against her stomach. Chuuya slides off her mouth when Dazai’s exhausted nibbling on her pussy becomes too much and finally allows her to take a proper gasp of air.
Chuuya’s head is spinning, both from the heat and the orgasm.
“Happy?” She asks and climbs off of Dazai to lie down next to her.
“Very. Next time, can you wait until I pass out before you get off?”
Dazai grins at her and Chuuya grimaces because she can still see her own slick drip from Dazai’s face.
“Gladly.”
“Yippie.”
***
The silver Opel pulls into the driveway sometime around six pm. The sun sits low on the horizon but underneath the tree roof, Chuuya can barely see it anyway. She’s sitting on the stone stairs next to Dazai, who’s braiding a flower into her hair.
Chuuya studies her face closely. She can’t seem to get enough of it now. Dazai’s lips are slightly pursed and her fingers are frantic.
“Looks like my Dad is here,” Chuuya states the obvious.
“Looks like he is,” Dazai mutters.
Chuuya glances over toward the car. Her father waves at her but goes to greet Mori first. Chuuya takes the opportunity, grabs Dazai’s face, and plants a chaste kiss on her lips.
Dazai finally looks at her.
“I’ll see you next Sunday, right?” she asks.
“Yes, next Sunday.”
“Promise?”
Chuuya cracks a fond smile, “I’m still wearing your underwear.”
“You plan on giving it back?” Dazai doesn’t seem to believe her.
“I plan on having you take it back, with your own hands.” With that said, Chuuya gets up. Dazai’s stunned gaze follows her to the car, but the thought of her, follows Chuuya far beyond, into her house, her bed, and her dreams.
Crazy maybe, but Chuuya can’t wait to go back next Sunday.