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Sana sees it a few hours later on Twitter.
She usually watches Mina’s clips after her performances, and she always leaves a “like” on each one, because her girlfriend always looks great, and even if Mina doesn’t even see it, it counts as support for Sana.
So she sees it.
Right there on national television. In close-up. A clip barely five seconds long. A clip that’s already causing a stir.
She sees the moment when Mina’s gaze shifts away from something beyond Momo; she sees the moment when Mina’s eyes land on Momo’s chest and linger there for about three seconds before looking away and pretending it never happened.
Except it did happen. On national television. Live. And not a single fan is letting it slide.
Sana rewinds the video more than five times. The first few times to make sure she saw it right, and the other five times she just watches it with a knot in her stomach.
Then, with her thumb, she presses the button to turn off the screen and stands there, staring at her reflection with a blank expression.
Myoui Mina is a renowned singer and dancer—in fact, she’s been one for a decade. And she, Minatozaki Sana, is a producer who barely stands out in the industry but is always swamped with work.
The two had met a decade ago—months before Mina became famous, months before her life changed forever. And it was only five years ago that they were finally able to start dating, since, according to Mina’s contract, she was free to date if she wanted to.
In short, Sana is already used to seeing certain… things Mina does when she’s working, and it’s not that she completely dislikes it—she simply recognizes when Mina is being genuine and when she’s following a script, playing a character, or putting on a false persona.
And she knows that five-second clip is genuine. That Mina simply did it, that she simply looked at her, because she wanted to, because she could.
Sana decides to take her mind off things. She gets up from her couch and walks to her studio. She has songs to produce that need her focused.
─ ─ ─
She and Mina see each other two weeks later.
During the time they spent apart, Sana had lost her composure.
People kept talking about the clip. People started making up rumors about Mina and Momo, and the worst part is that they make sense. If Sana didn’t know both of them, she’d really believe something was going on.
Of course, the company didn’t deny the rumors—they never have and never will. Sana hates that they’re capitalizing on her friendship; she knows how important Momo is to Mina, and she hates that they’re being used.
But at the end of the day, all idols are a product, a commodity. Of course, the companies don’t care about them as human beings. Throughout all these painful years, Sana has made it a point to remind Mina that she is human, that she’s allowed to have a life outside of her career.
It’s a constant struggle. Mina has already gotten used to the industry and almost always argues with Sana about it. And Sana tries not to get too upset, but instead tries to understand where her girlfriend is coming from. It’s not easy, and it probably never will be.
Mina arrives at her apartment barely able to stand, and Sana doesn’t mind holding her up and carrying her to bed. From the scent of soap and shampoo still lingering on Mina, Sana deduces that she must have taken her typical long shower after work.
Her girlfriend snatches her pajamas and slips under the sheets without waiting for her. Sana leans against the doorframe, savoring the sight of Myoui Mina wrapped in colorful pajamas that hang a little loosely over her curves, burying her face in the pillows that carry Sana’s strong scent.
With a smile, she pulls out her phone and takes a couple of photos. Almost immediately, she sets one as her lock screen background and then decides to order food. It’s not that Sana is a terrible cook—she can make decent rice and eggs, thank you very much—but she knows Mina, and Mina is going to be starving after going a whole day without eating, because that’s just how she is when she has a busy schedule.
She orders her favorite meal, and only then does she approach the bed. She brushes a few strands of hair from her face and plants a kiss on her forehead. Mina lets out a sigh of satisfaction.
For a moment, that unpleasant feeling of jealousy doesn’t surface. Not when Mina is there with her, at her place, wearing her clothes. She’s surrounded by her, and Mina seems to love her.
That definitely makes Sana strut.
─ ─ ─
She lets Mina sleep for about three hours before deciding to wake her up, while she lets the last batch of food heat up in the microwave.
She finds her girlfriend with her head buried in the pillow on the right—Sana’s side—with the sheets wrapped around her waist, her hair tousled and covering her face like a curtain. Sana’s chest swells with warmth, and it almost hurts to have to disturb her peace.
Gently, she sits on the edge of the bed and brushes the strands of hair from her face, caressing her cheek. Mina doesn’t wake up—of course not.
Sana’s hand then slides down to rest on her shoulder and gently shakes her. “Mina, darling, it’s time for dinner.”
Mina lets out a protesting sound. “Nooo.”
“Yes,” Sana gives her a teasing nudge. “I have food.”
Her girlfriend stops mid-protest and opens one eye. “Food?” she repeats, suddenly interested.
Sana snorts, removing her hand from Mina’s shoulder. “One may think you’d be happier to see your girlfriend.”
Mina sits up, opening her other eye. “I am happy to see you. You know that,” she says, furrowing her brow slightly.
Sana waves her off, getting out of bed. “Come on. Time for dinner.”
─ ─ ─
About an hour later, they were both curled up on the couch, watching a show on TV. Neither of them is really paying attention, though.
Mina has her face buried in Sana’s neck, leaning completely against her, one hand lazily tracing nonexistent lines across Sana’s T-shirt.
Sana, for her part, has one arm around Mina’s waist and the other holding the remote. The couch cushions are making her back ache a little, but she refuses to let on that she’s uncomfortable.
“Ugh,” Sana snorts, almost rolling her eyes at the show’s cliché. “You know I love cheesy stuff, but this is too much.”
Mina laughs, and her breath tickles her neck. “It must really be terrible for you, of all people, to criticize it.”
“You don’t have to be so mean,” she complains. “I’ve recommended good stuff to you,” she points out, about to pout.
Her girlfriend hums. “Let’s define ‘good stuff.’”
Sana gasps, offended, and her hand quickly lands on Mina’s side, tickling her. Her girlfriend squeals and pulls away from her, remaining seated astride her lap; Sana doesn’t notice, continuing to tickle her ribs and sides until Mina raises both hands and Sana stops, wearing a teasing expression.
Then she realizes the position they’re in, and her eyes slightly darken. It’s been more than half a year since she’s been this close to her girlfriend, and her body is already starting to react as if she were a teenager.
She doesn’t act right away. She doesn’t know if Mina is really in the mood for sex, and Sana isn’t sure she wants to either—not when she’ll most likely become even more possessive than usual.
Her gaze falls on Mina’s heaving chest, just as she’d seen it more times than she’d have liked in that five-second clip. Except Sana is doing this in private, in her own apartment, and she’s already seen Mina naked countless times—she has Mina’s consent to look whenever she wants.
But of course, of course Mina would take the opportunity to look at another woman’s chest. Of course, to her it’s just a quick peek that doesn’t hurt anyone, but she forgets that Minatozaki Sana is possessive.
Sana would probably have to remind her of that.
That Mina is hers.
That Mina can only look at her like that—not at Momo, not at any other woman.
Sana isn’t possessive or jealous in that explosive way. Instead, her feelings are quiet and come to the surface when they spend too much time apart. Perhaps Mina mistakes them for desperation and frustration.
She carelessly drops the remote control onto the soft carpet and rests both hands on Mina’s hips. Her girlfriend leans toward her, like a moth to a flame.
“Sana,” she murmurs softly.
“Mina,” she replies, biting her lip.
“What are you thinking about?” Mina brushes her lips against Sana’s, and Sana allows herself to close her eyes.
“I don’t think you’ll like it,” she replies calmly, deliberately stoking her girlfriend’s curiosity. It works—when she hears her and feels her groan against her mouth, the sensation sends a tingling sensation through her body.
“Tell me,” Mina asks, running her tongue over her lower lip; Sana instinctively squeezes her hip.
“I think you’re forgetting that I’m possessive,” she murmurs, realizing how absurd it sounds to say it out loud. But she doesn’t take it back—not yet.
Mina stays still, then flashes a smile. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah.”
“And how do you plan to remind me of that?”
“Will you be able to handle the answer?”
Mina grumbles, nibbling the corner of her lip. “You know I will.”
She feels her girlfriend press herself against her, and Sana almost forgets to answer. Almost.
She clears her throat, completely flushed. “I’m going to fuck you,” she replies hoarsely, and Mina presses herself firmly against her thigh.
“So what’s stopping you?”
Sana sits down and looks into her girlfriend’s darkened eyes before licking her lips. “If you want your back to hurt, I can do it right here.”
“Bed,” is all Mina says before she's on her.
─ ─ ─
They barely make it to the bed.
Mina refuses to let go of her, kissing her and pressing her close, making the walk there feel unusually long.
Sana pins her against a wall at least twice before dragging her into the bedroom.
If it were up to her, she would have taken her right there in the hallway or while they were on the couch. But the reason she’s holding back is that Mina has been working for months and her body must already be aching; Sana wants to make her feel good, not leave her aching… at least not now.
Sana pushes her onto the bed, her hands already busy pulling off Mina’s soft pajama pants. Mina lifts her hips to help, casually tossing them onto the floor.
Sana then positions herself on top of her, pressing one knee against her crotch. She revels in the gasp that escapes Mina.
“If that’s how you react when I haven’t even touched you properly,” she murmurs close to her ear, her hand fumbling for the hem of her T-shirt. “Imagine how you’ll feel when I do.”
“Sana,” she whispers, reaching out and grabbing the back of her neck. “Don’t make me wait.”
Sana pulls her hands away and sits up. “You’re in no position to ask for or demand anything,” she snorts, almost annoyed.
Mina bites her lip, her eyes shining. “I'm not?”
“Tonight you're going to have to settle for what I'm going to give you,” Sana tells her seriously. Mina's sense of fun fades a little, though her excitement grows.
Sana isn't really dominant in bed. She's always been playful and flirtatious, not caring whether she takes the lead or Mina does. And Mina isn't particularly submissive or dominant; she always finds sex fun, and that's enough for her.
There’s a silent question in her gaze, to which Mina nods, giving her permission to do whatever she wants.
Sana brings her hands to Mina’s T-shirt and pulls it off effortlessly. Mina’s bare chest sends a flutter through her stomach; her hands take on a life of their own as they trace Mina’s toned stomach—one she’s never grown tired of touching and caressing.
Her mouth finds that spot on Mina’s neck that makes her sensitive; she brushes it with her teeth, a gentle threat that she might leave marks. In response, her girlfriend arches her neck, as if giving her permission.
Sana needs no more. Her lips suck and bite until they leave two bruises on her neck—for which she’ll receive complaints later, but she’ll never regret it. Mina moans close to her ear, rubbing herself against her thigh again.
She feels proud of herself for drawing those sounds out of her. Only she can make Myoui Mina tremble beneath her—her face flushed, lips parted to let out moans, neck arched, nipples hard, and a wetness that’s already starting to soak through Sana’s pants.
Only she can make her feel this aroused and eager. Only her.
She lowers her mouth and leaves another mark just below Mina’s collarbone while her hands massage her breasts. They fit almost perfectly in her hands, and she runs her thumbs over her nipples. Mina arches her back slightly in response, letting out a soft moan.
“Sana—”
“Yes?”
“Please.”
Sana doesn’t ask her what she wants. She accepts the plea, her body reacts accordingly, and her mouth replaces her right thumb, sucking on her nipple harder than she usually does.
Mina’s body arches even more; her hands tangle in Sana’s hair and pull her forward—a silent plea to keep going. Sana obliges gladly, making sure to leave bruises on Mina’s chest with a possessiveness that now has room to run wild.
For a moment, she gets distracted, using Mina’s skin as a canvas for her marks, savoring the sensation of the skin beneath her mouth and Mina’s reaction each time.
Then, one of the hands in her hair begins to push her down, and Sana refocuses on her breasts, sliding a hand down her belly, brushing against the hem of her underwear, clearly teasing her.
Mina lets out a groan, squirming restlessly beneath her. “Sana, please.”
It falls on deaf ears.
Sana sucks on the side of her breast while her hand slides under her underwear and lightly caresses her mons pubis.
She’s taking her time. Mina hates it—as her body betrays her—and Sana loves every second of it.
If she has to drive this woman wild with desire so she’ll start behaving in front of the cameras, so be it.
By the time she’s satisfied, with several bruises covering Mina’s chest and breasts, Sana finally pulls down her underwear.
She doesn’t take her eyes off the marks—the proof that Myoui Mina has belonged to her for ten years and will remain hers for another decade.
She slides two of her fingers inside without warning, and Mina takes them in without resistance, moaning with pleasure. She gives an involuntary tug on Sana’s hair, to which Sana responds with a low moan.
Her thrusting is fast and abrupt from the start; her fingers curl, touching Mina’s spongy walls and teasing that spot that drives her wild.
Her mouth is on Mina’s shoulder, biting it lightly. Her hand rests beside Mina’s head, and she grips the sheet every time she feels Mina clench her fingers.
“Sana—Sana,” Mina stammers, thrusting her hips, eagerly taking in every thrust. Her body is arched and flushed, her breasts bouncing with the motion, and Sana moans every time she sees it.
She slips in a third finger and begins to rub Mina’s clitoris at the same time. Her girlfriend loses her mind; her moans grow louder, and her body begins to tremble slightly.
Sana licks the hollow between her neck and shoulder with too much enthusiasm, speeding up her back-and-forth motion and pulling out her thumb, since her palm is constantly touching Mina’s clitoris.
This is how Myoui Mina comes, being penetrated to the point of oblivion, with an eager mouth that continues to leave its mark on her. The famous idol is melting away with moans that border on screams, her eyes rolled back, and her body trembling.
Sana prolongs her orgasm until Mina whimpers. She stops her back-and-forth motion and adjusts her position to get a better look at her.
“Can you give me another one?”
Mina nods immediately, breathing through her mouth. “J-just give me a second. One second.”
Sana nods and is about to withdraw her fingers when Mina grips her hand. She leaves them where they are, waiting for the signal.
Mina yanks her hair and moves her hips at the same time. Sana obeys, and this time she takes her time, thrusting slowly but deeply, her fingers curved.
She touches all the right spots little by little, giving Mina enough time to feel it before pulling her fingers back. She does it for too long, if she’s honest with herself.
Her mouth is busy on Mina’s breast again, and it’s when she lightly bites her nipple that her girlfriend comes again, without any warning. Sana moans, closing her eyes as she feels Mina squeeze her fingers.
She prolongs the orgasm, and this time, when Mina relaxes against the mattress, Sana carefully withdraws her fingers.
“Are you okay?”
Mina lets out a sound from deep in her chest, one hand digging into Sana’s shoulder.
Sana wipes her fingers on the sheet, repositioning herself on top of her. Mina takes the opportunity to burrow into her neck and lets out another incoherent sound that’s almost a babble.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs, a weariness underlying her voice. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Neither was I,” Sana sighs, resting her head against her temple. “Do you want to rest, and then I’ll clean you up?”
“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” Mina asks, confused.
“I’m completely satisfied,” and Sana isn’t lying.
She feels her whole body is more relaxed; the jealousy and possessiveness have faded into a muffled noise she pretends not to hear.
At some point, she’ll have to find better ways to deal with jealousy, but that’s something the Sana of the future will take care of.
The Sana of the present just wants to pamper her girlfriend, and she has plenty of weeks to do so.