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It was strange.
Mizuki knew that. She knew it was strange. Not just that… but wrong.
Yeah. Wrong. This is… wrong. This is messed up. She clung onto that thought: the acknowledgement of the tabooness of what she was feeling, what she was wanting, and the scolding her moral compass was giving her. This is wrong. This is wrong, so I need to stop. I need to…
It wasn’t working.
Objectivity meant nothing to instincts like this. Instincts this raw, this carnal. There was a perennial language barrier between humans and their bodies, because the body only speaks in wordless requests – no, demands – for what it needs to survive. The barrier was malleable… to an extent. Mizuki could tell her body to just turn away. She could leave. Jerk off in the bathroom or something. But even then, it wouldn’t stop these feelings. She knew she could do something to ignore them, but she also knew once she returned to Mafuyu, so would this mind-numbing craving. It gets to a point where words become meaningless to the body – even words like, ‘I shouldn’t be doing this. This is wrong.’ And so words become futile.
Mizuki feared she had arrived at that point.
She stepped back, willing the desperate heat straining against her panties to obey her. To recognise this was really, really not the time.
But as she stared down at Mafuyu’s sleeping form, she only grew more powerless against her body’s desires.
Mizuki had only seen Mafuyu sick once.
She’d been the first to notice the fever, catching the subtle weakness in Mafuyu’s movements and the raspiness in his voice and knowing something was off. It had been a few years ago now, when Niigo was still in the early stages of forming their bond, clumsy in their youth and inexperience with one another. If Mafuyu had fallen ill any time between then and now, it had either evaded Mizuki’s attention, or he had hid it extremely well. Considering his tendency to shroud his struggles behind a mask of faux, placid charm, and his flawless ability in it, Mizuki sure wouldn’t be surprised by the latter. But Mafuyu must have come down with something bad this time. All it took was hearing his voice through her headphones.
“Mafuyu, are you feeling okay?”
Mizuki was the first to say anything after Mafuyu joined the call and greeted everyone.
“Yeah,” Ena had quickly chimed in. “It sounds like you have something in your throat. Did you eat something greasy?”
“Now, now. No need to go projecting, Enanan,” Mizuki jibed.
“Oh my God, I wasn’t–”
“Anyway,” Mizuki interrupted, being more concerned about her boyfriend’s state than bantering with Ena. “What’s up, Mafuyu?”
“Mm.” Mafuyu had muted for a moment, before eventually responding. “I’m okay. Just a slight scratch in my throat. It’s nothing.”
“Like hell it is,” Mizuki had responded, because she knew better. She knew what Mafuyu sounded like with a slight scratch in his throat. It wasn’t this. He was always fairly monotone, but he sounded much darker than usual, his voice quivering slightly like it was taking effort to speak.
“I guess I’m coming down with something. I don’t know.” Mafuyu muted again, but a moment too late – Mizuki heard his cough before it was cut off.
“I’m coming over.”
“Take care of him, Mizuki,” Kanade had said softly.
Mafuyu unmuted. “No, I’m–”
“I’m coming over and bringing tea and honey and medicine. Okay?”
Mafuyu’s sigh crackled in his mic. “You’ll get sick too.”
“Don’t care! See you in twenty minutes~!”
She had hung up before Mafuyu could protest any more.
Everything had gone pretty predictably from there. She’d arrived at Mafuyu’s house and smothered him in kisses, which he had tried to avoid, but failed to. She’d had to practically drag him from his PC, away from his music production, and into bed, with him muttering about how she was going to catch his illness and they’d have to postpone the upcoming single, and Mizuki trying to convince him that wasn't what he should be worrying about. After cuddling and drinking tea, he’d gone to the bathroom, and Mizuki had been shocked when he returned, pale and sweating, saying he’d vomited. He fell asleep soon after that.
Mizuki had gone to fetch him a bowl in case he threw up again, and some more spiced honey and throat lozenges.
What she hadn’t predicted was what had happened when she returned.
She had felt it earlier, but easily distracted herself from it, focusing entirely on taking care of her boyfriend. The suggestions of questionable thoughts were there, but not at the forefront of her mind. She didn’t have to acknowledge them, admit to herself what she was feeling.
Now he was asleep, and she was alone, and she couldn’t do anything but admit it.
She was aroused.
Seeing Mafuyu like this in front of her – sprawled across the bed in only a black sweater and boxers, his skin wax-white in stark contrast to his clothes and the dark bedsheets beneath him. His body shivering and his breath hitching slightly as he shifted in his sleep. Sick, languid, exhausted. So completely vulnerable. Defenceless and delicate. She wanted to look after him. Wanted to comfort him, protect him.
She wanted to fuck him.
Mafuyu stirred again, groaning weakly as his eyes fluttered open. Mizuki fluffed up her skirt, concealing the evidence of her inexplicable perversion, and sat down quietly on the edge of the bed. The weight beside him seemed to pull Mafuyu more fully into wakefulness, and he propped himself up on his elbows with a rough, shaky inhale. He looked up at Mizuki with clouded eyes. His face was drained of all color, his pale lips trembling slightly like he was cold despite the heat radiating from him. The purple hair half-obscuring his face, usually so tidy and well-kept, was a mess, falling down his shoulders in long, dishevelled curls.
Mizuki throbbed in her panties. He looked pathetic.
“Hey, sweetheart.” She tried to smile gently, innocently, like her body wasn’t betraying her right now, like she wasn’t rock fucking hard. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m alright–”
He gagged on his words. Mizuki couldn’t grab the bowl in time.
Mafuyu shot upwards as a sudden, spluttering cough escaped him, along with a stream of watery tea-coloured puke that spilled down the front of his sweater. He choked out a quiet “Shit”, before his chest spasmed and more vomit gushed from his mouth. This time, Mizuki managed to shove the bowl beneath him and push his tousled fringe out of his face before he made more of a mess. I need to cut his hair again, she thought vaguely.
The sharp, acrid stench of sweetened stomach acid hit her nose as liquid splattered into the bowl. The sound of Mafuyu’s retching and his nauseated groans reverberated through Mizuki’s cock, and the girl had to bite back a whine. What the hell was wrong with her? …She still didn’t understand, but she had given up on trying to at this point. She squeezed her thighs together, before composing herself.
“Ah… poor Mafuyu,” she murmured, pulling her hand away and moving it to her boyfriend’s back, rubbing her palm against him in slow, comforting circles. “How awful. You poor, poor thing…”
Despite having just thrown up on himself, Mafuyu’s eyes remained bleary and emotionless, and he didn’t seem to be listening much to Mizuki’s words of sympathy. He took in a tremulous breath, before clearing his throat and speaking in a voice thick with sickness. “I don’t want you to see me like this, Mizuki. It’s disgusting.”
I know it is. That’s exactly why I want to see it. Mizuki’s body temperature probably matched that of her sick boyfriend’s at this point. She couldn’t stop the thoughts anymore. She wasn’t trying to. I want to see Mafuyu make a mess. I want to see him become a mess.
“And I am capable of taking care of myself,” Mafuyu added quietly.
“Don’t be silly. I want to be here for you more than anything else right now,” Mizuki insisted. “I don’t mind seeing you like this, really! I’m not a pussy. I can handle a little vomit~” She giggled. “Besides, when it’s you, it’s kinda cute!”
Ah. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.
Mafuyu weakly lifted his head, brows furrowing. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, before looking down again. At the contents of the bowl. At his sweater, streaked with the thick, honeyed bile his stomach had expelled. “Is it really?”
Mizuki’s hand faltered on Mafuyu’s back, and she giggled again, a little sheepishly, as she fumbled for words. “Well… just a little. Is it so weird to find everything my boyfriend does endearing~?” she purred.
“Mm.” Mafuyu set the bowl aside with a harsh cough. “Sometimes, I still can’t quite understand you, Mizuki.” He rested his head heavily on his girlfriend’s shoulder. Mizuki looked up at the ceiling, her morality continuing to battle with her incessant libido. She could take him right now. He wouldn’t be able to fight back. Of course, there’s no way she’d do that. Even when she was this horny, she knew she couldn’t do something like that to him. But just the thought that she could, the knowledge of it, was enough to…
Mizuki abruptly sat upright. “Ah! I think we should take that sweater off, shouldn’t we?” She turned to Mafuyu, who looked like he was about to fall asleep again. “Come on. Arms up!”
Mafuyu grunted, but didn’t protest. He lifted his arms. Slowly, delicately.
Mizuki held the rim of his vomit-soaked sweater and pulled it up over his head.
Oh.
Mizuki paused.
He… wasn’t wearing a bra.
Mafuyu noticed her hesitation, and made a disgruntled noise, grabbing the sweater and taking it off himself. Tossing it aside, he looked at Mizuki.
Mizuki didn’t make eye contact.
“You’ve seen this before,” Mafuyu muttered. “Why are you staring?”
Was this a test? Was some cruel God taunting her? Tempting her? Was she the second coming of Eve? How could she resist this? Her dick pressed eagerly against the thin barrier of her underwear. Her eyes roamed over Mafuyu’s breasts, devouring the delicious, plump roundness of them, trying so very hard to keep her hands to herself, to not rut her hips into the air in search of some kind of friction, fuck, fuck.
Mafuyu buried his face in his shoulder, his pallid cheeks flushing with color suddenly. “Mizuki.”
Fuck.
“S-Sorry!” Mizuki gasped, snapping out of her perverted trance. “I’m sorry, really– um! Let’s–” She grabbed Mafuyu’s sweater and scrambled off the bed, her face burning as she tripped over her words. “I’m gonna put this in the washing machine. Okay?”
Mafuyu shrugged, his eyes half-closed as he leaned back against the pillows. “Alright.”
Mizuki left before she ended up going fuck-brained looking at her Mafuyu’s tits again. She walked briskly down the hall towards the laundry, her thoughts unrelentingly lewd but still endlessly confused. Why was she the horniest she had ever been? Mafuyu always turned her on, but this was something so much more intense. She threw the sweater into the machine, before starting to pace a little. She thought back to Mafuyu vomiting. The way his usually deadpan face contorted into an expression she’d never seen. The way he gasped and groaned, his hair slicked to the sweat on his hot, blanched face. Mizuki’s hand shot down to her erection. She began pawing at it through the silken pink fabric of her skirt, leaning back against the wall and covering her mouth. The memory flashed vividly through her mind, and flares of arousal erupted in her groin, causing her dick to twitch in her hand. God, she was gross. Why was it so attractive to see him like that? Having no control over his body? … She wanted to see it again. She needed to.
And she could.
Mizuki paused for a moment, and stood there silently, thinking. Or, rather, pretending to think. She’d already made up her mind. She might have actually decided on it from the very start, and had been stalling since then. But there wasn’t really anything to wait for, was there?
She needed to fuck Mafuyu. She needed to do it now, while he was in this state.
And she was going to.
Mizuki headed back to her boyfriend’s bedroom. The sun was starting to rise now – the tentative light of dawn was creeping through a crack in the curtains, joining the artificial blue hues emanating from Mafuyu’s PC and aquarium. The window was open and the fan was on, but a sickly warmth still hung stagnant in the air, smelling of tea and bile. Mafuyu was asleep again, from what Mizuki could tell. He had put on a bra. Mizuki wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved – at the very least, she felt a little less like she was about to lose herself to her impulses. Only a little, though. Mafuyu, splayed half-naked across the bed, was still putting on a show for her, despite being unconscious. A strip of early sunlight fell across his slender, fragile frame. His tits rose and fell shakily as he breathed in a stuttering, irregular rhythm. The sight infused every one of Mizuki’s thoughts with a lust that willed her onwards. She first found herself a condom in Mafuyu’s underwear drawer, before she approached the bed cautiously.
Mafuyu’s breath caught in his throat and he made a muffled noise, moving slightly. Mizuki froze, waiting for his breath to fall back into its sleeping pattern before continuing. She wasn’t planning to wake him up with sex, especially not when he was like this, but she did want to perv for just a little longer. She pulled herself onto the bed, and kneeled in front of her dozing boyfriend. Slid her panties down her thighs and wrapped her hand around her needy cock, which was already weeping with pre-cum from the anticipation, and began to slowly tug at the shaft. The action was hidden by her skirt, but if Mafuyu woke up now, he’d be able to catch what she was doing pretty easily, even in his feverish haze. The thought only excited Mizuki more. Leaning forward, she dipped her head down towards Mafuyu’s. She pressed her lips against his cheek. The skin was almost scalding hot.
Mafuyu blinked his eyes open for a moment, before letting them drift shut once again. “Hello, Mizuki.” His breath smelled oddly sweet, but unmistakably sick. “Don’t get too close. Might throw up on you.”
Mizuki swallowed hard. She dragged her fingertips up Mafuyu’s sides, following the curve of his waist, up to his breast. She cupped it in her hand and squeezed, earning a sharp intake of breath from Mafuyu.
She leaned down further, so her lips brushed against the purple curls near his ear. “Hey, Mafuyu,” she breathed out, already tearing open the condom wrapper. “You don’t mind if I fuck you, right?”
Mafuyu’s breath stopped for a moment. His eyes opened, and he lifted himself up slightly, looking blearily up at Mizuki. “Right now…?”
“Yeah.”
When Mafuyu didn’t respond, Mizuki continued in a half-whisper, shuffling her weight forward so she was practically on top of her boyfriend. “I’ll be gentle. And quick.” She moved her hips forward, allowing the head of her cock to press between Mafuyu’s thighs, against the seam of his boxers.
Mafuyu’s breath rasped in his throat, a disoriented look crossing his face. Then he lay back against the bed again, his eyes misting over as he stared at nothing in particular. “This doesn’t feel like the right time, Mizuki,” he said dully. “Are you sure…?”
“Yes,” Mizuki whined before Mafuyu’d even finished speaking, grinding her tip against him impatiently. She’d abandoned her conscience quite a while ago now and didn’t have any plans to try to align her motives with it again. She was suffocating in this ceaseless, nagging sense of depraved desire. She needed this. She couldn’t make sense of why, but she needed Mafuyu to take this, right now. “Honestly. It’ll be over so fast, just– Mafuyu– you’re so cute right now, just– please.”
Mafuyu made a rough noise halfway between a groan and a scoff. “I…” He looked away, before closing his eyes. “Fine.”
“Ah… thank you–!” Mizuki began grasping more desperately at Mafuyu’s tits, rutting into his pussy and feeling the fabric between them rub raw and dry against her, losing herself to the sensation of it. “You’re amazing, Mafuyu. My sweetest, dearest Mafuyu~” She wasted no time in slipping the condom on, before hooking her fingers into the waistband of her boyfriend’s boxers and wrenching them down his thighs. Mafuyu didn’t say a word, just squirmed quietly beneath her. Maybe with discomfort, apprehension. Maybe with excitement. Mizuki didn’t care. Seeking the nidus of her sudden perversion around seeing her boyfriend so sick and weak meant nothing to her anymore, and the questionability of the situation she was putting him in almost meant even less. Mizuki had a complete one-track mind right now.
A cough wracked Mafuyu’s body. “You’re certain about this?” he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes were still mostly closed, unfocused. It was obvious his fever was leaving him dazed and lethargic. His words slurred into each other. “When I’m like this? When I look like this… smell like this…–”
Mizuki cut him off by pushing her lips against his.
Mafuyu arched up into her and groaned huskily into her mouth. His face pulled back slightly when their lips first met, but he didn’t make any other attempts to get her to stop, and they rapidly fell into a messy, sick-hot makeout. Mafuyu’s lips burned against Mizuki’s. He gagged a little as their tongues wreathed together, and drool began to spill from his mouth. Mizuki was undeterred. She continued grinding into the purple-haired boy, feeling his entrance beginning to slicken against her, relishing in the febrile heat that radiated from between his thighs and enveloped her own lower flesh. Only once Mafuyu began coughing did Mizuki pull away, licking her lips.
Her head was spinning.
“Can I…?” she asked breathlessly, feeling dizzy as she teased the head of her cock against Mafuyu’s slit.
Mafuyu only gave a feeble nod.
That was all Mizuki needed. She pushed herself inside.
A moan almost immediately fell from her lips. It was hot – so much hotter than she’d expected. Searing fever-heat, tightening around her, pulling her in. Fuck, she was sweating already. Gliding her hands over Mafuyu’s stomach and hips, feeling how fragile he was beneath her, she began thrusting erratically, drunk on the bliss of her own personal indulgement. It was so good. So, so fucking good. She never would’ve forgiven herself if she didn’t do this. The heat, the fragility of the boy beneath her, the sound of his moans – moans she’d never heard from him, moans that were broken and guttural and strangled with sickness. He sounded gross, pathetic. It only made Mizuki fuck him harder. Slam herself into the sickeningly hot depths of his pussy with jerky, inconsistent movements that only served to please herself. She was panting, hard, a bitch in heat, sweat glazing her skin, beads of it catching in her pink fringe. She watched Mafuyu’s tits bounce every time she thrust inside. Watched his eyelids flitter like he was on the brink of passing out, his face even paler than before, his body completely limp and helpless against her. God. She wasn’t going to last long.
Then Mafuyu’s eyes flew open and he stiffened beneath the girl frantically fucking him. “Mizuki,” he gasped out. “W-wait– I’m gonna– ggh–”
“Already~?” Mizuki couldn’t help teasing. “Honestly, Mafuyu, I’ve barely–”
A wet retching sound interrupted her, and a flood of puke was streaming down Mafuyu’s chest before Mizuki even realised what was happening. She moaned hopelessly, her stomach tightening, before her hand clamped around her mouth and she paused in her thrusts. “Oh.”
Mafuyu looked up, his eyes watering.
“A-are you alright, sweetheart?” Mizuki reached a hand out to cup the side of Mafuyu’s face, trying to ignore her dick still twitching frantically inside him.
“Does it look like I’m alright?” Mafuyu deadpanned, using the back of his hand to wipe away the bile trickling down his chin. He collapsed back against the pillows, covered in his own puke, eyes rolling back slightly as fatigue overtook him again. “God…”
Mizuki bit her lip so hard she tasted copper. Her breath continued to come in short, puppy-like huffs. The reek of vomit was starting to make her a little nauseous now, too, but –
“I- I’m really close,” she blurted out mindlessly.
Mafuyu’s gaze sharpened for a moment. “What?”
Mizuki began rocking her hips again, slowly. “I’m close,” she said again, her voice pitching up in selfish desperation. “Please. Please, please.” She wasn’t even waiting for an answer. Before she knew it, she was thrusting into him again. Quick, sporadic movements as the pressure in her loins grew and her head went fuzzy.
“Mizuki,” Mafuyu whimpered and sniffed, curling in on himself. “Hurry up, then.”
Mizuki shouldn’t take that as permission, really. But she did. The sound of her needy, helpless moans filled the room as she chased her orgasm, her mind going utterly blank as she drove her cock into her boyfriend. She really was so close, so close, she just needed –
Mafuyu convulsed beneath Mizuki, his face screwing up as the force of her thrusts sent another surge of vomit flying from his mouth, the hot, viscous substance splattering across his tits and the bedsheets beneath him.
Mizuki wailed uncontrollably, stars blinding her as she came hard inside Mafuyu.
… Fuck.
“M-Mizuki…”
Mizuki opened her eyes slowly, the aftershocks of her orgasm still rippling through her. She stared down at her boyfriend – sweating, shaking, coated in vomit and snot – and felt tears sting her eyes.
“Mafuyu!” she gasped, pulling out and throwing herself forward and pressing her cheek against his as guilt clawed its way through the dissipating haze of arousal. “I’m so– so sorry, I should’ve stopped, it’s just, something– something–” Pathetic sobs began to break into her words. “Something happened, you just looked so hot and– adorable, I was just so– I’m just– I’m sorry…”
Mafuyu was silent for a moment, and it only made the shame scorching through Mizuki even more painful. But then he giggled. It was barely audible, but Mizuki heard it.
“I’ve never seen you like that before, Mizuki,” he mumbled. “You do have a tendency to surprise me, though.”
“I’m sorry,” Mizuki sobbed, leaning back and taking Mafuyu’s face in her hands, hardly noticing the vomit that was now on her clothes after hugging him. “I’ll run us a bath, and then I’ll make you the yummiest soup you’ve ever tasted, okay? And I’ll get you some iced tea, and whatever else you want…”
Mafuyu heaved himself up to drowsily kiss Mizuki’s forehead. He took her hands in his, looking down at the utter mess they had both made, before looking up and giving another brief noise of amusement. “I’ll accept that," he rasped. "Thanks.”
They shared one more sickly kiss before beginning to clean up.