Running Laps

>you always figured it was better to accept the status quo
>it's not like you could do anything to change it
>you dutifully took notes on why it was humanity's fault that the monster girls seized power
>you never once thought you were going to be hot shit and do the exact opposite of what the essay prompt said; you really weren't the type to write snarky diatribes about why everything is shit now that the monster girls are in power
>the most outstanding thing you ever did was join the chess club -- one of the few activities that wasn't dominated by the monster girls
>you knew it was because humans could stop thinking about dicks and play the game, and so did everyone else
>you also knew that you were liable to be jailed for hate speech if you tried to explain the "anomalous" representation of humans in chess
>common knowledge also includes the fact that chess is considered harmless enough to be an allowed form of human entertainment; it cultivates no physical prowess and is considered too abstract to be useful in strategy
>the former of these "positive" qualities about chess is what makes the next thing so confusing
>a red oni pointed at you as you made your way towards the chess club after school one day
>"You. My boyfriend now. Got it?"
>you know that this will be the end of your chess-playing days
>if you're lucky you might get to play five turns of shogi before she gets bored
>you also know that saying "no" to an oni is pretty much a guaranteed trip to the hospital at the very least, not to mention the fines and jail time
>you nod and are taken to your home so that you may gather your possessions
>apparently it's customary for an oni's husband to live with her
>the food that night is odd, but you think you'll be able to manage so long as you never say no
>until school lets out the next day
>she's waiting outside your last class with a bag in her hands
>she explains as she hauls you off towards the track that she isn't going to have “no goddamn pansy” for a boyfriend
>since you don't really own clothes that aren't polos and slacks, she has graciously provided you a gym uniform
>she's going to be training you so that you're a respectable goddamned man, starting with five laps jogged around the track
>as in jogged nonstop
>ignoring the fact that it is the dead of winter
>she's still wearing fucking booty shorts of all things and doesn't feel the cold at all
>you move just to keep your blood from freezing in your veins
>it feels like someone has filled your lungs with napalm by the second corner
>when you inevitably stumble, she just shouts that you're gonna stay out here for as long as it takes you to get those laps
>you don't know how you did it
>you're pretty sure you blacked out at least twice
>but when your memory starts again you're sitting at her kotatsu shivering like a madman with a teacup in front of you
>when she comes through to check on you, she just says that she'll only make you run five again tomorrow since the weather is going to be worse
>she takes a pull from a gourd, ending the conversation
>you know it's alcohol even though she's a high school student – there are special laws regarding oni
>next day, out to the track, only this time there's sleet
>since you haven't recovered from yesterday, you're pretty sure you only made a lap and a half before that memory blank came up again
>when you see her again, she just shakes her head
>the weather remains awful for the next week, but you manage to get up to two and a half laps by the end of it
>she doesn't seem any happier with you, just drinking more and more
>a few days into the next week
>tonight she finally drank herself to sleep
>you're miserable
>you can only eat so much rice and miso
>you don't want to get fit
>you're just doing it because you've never once in your life disobeyed a monster girl
>and maybe because it might eventually be useful for a human
>apparently manual labor is in high demand
>she left the gourd she was drinking from out, just sprawling out on the couch and mumbling
>you know she sleeps like the dead
>you take the gourd, figuring that this is going to be your best chance
>you take a whole mouthful and swallow it all down, nearly coughing it all back up again
>shit burns like you're drinking paint thinner, but this one-time pain will be better than whatever hellish workout she has cooked up after the track
>if you even make it that far
>you take another swig, and your vision swims like you've just been hit in the head with a hammer
>you keep drinking, ignoring your growing nausea
>the world seems to be getting blurrier and blurrier
>a black haze is creeping in at the edges of your vision
>you wonder if this is what death feels like
>you wonder why the surface of the kotatsu is so close to your face now
>dimly you're aware that, if you end up puking everything back up, you won't aspirate, since your head is on its side
>as you take your last swig, you wonder if that's a good thing or not
>all you see is black
>all you hear is your heartbeat in your ears
>a dull crack comes through from your left, like someone stepped on a twig covered in pine needles
>it feels a little warm where you think your jaw would be
>a dull roar comes through from dead ahead of you
>some grinding sound from both sides
>the roar seems to have subsided to a whisper
>the next thing you know, you're staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling, although the dingy flourescents make it look more yellowish
>your mouth tastes like blood and what little movement you can manage before the excruciating pain sets in means you feel the bones of your jaw grinding against something
>it hurts to move your arms-- no, just your shoulders
>which means there's no way for you to reach for the call button
>you're stuck waiting for god knows how long until a human nurse of about fifty arrives
>that explains why everything's so dingy; it's a human hospital
>she notes on her chart that you're finally conscious and tells you that you were hospitalized for a broken jaw, double shoulder dislocation, a broken collarbone, and alcohol poisoning
>she looks at you over her chart as she reads off the last one, suggesting she's curious but knows better than to ask
>explains that your jaw has been wired shut and the breaks have been patched up, then informs you that you'll get your meal in the next two hours
>she motions outside the door, and then your “girlfriend” comes in
>she has tears and hatred and relief in her eyes
>the nurse stands guard in front of you, making sure that the oni stays where she is even if there's no chance in hell a borderline-elderly lady could do anything to stop her
>but your girlfriend stays where she is, totally silent as she clenches her fists
>both you and the nurse know she could tear down the closest wall if she wanted to and there isn't a goddamn thing you could do to stop her
>before she can say anything, she leaves
>doesn't come back
>you spend the days until you're discharged dozing on what morphine substitute they can afford with their infinitesimal budget and choking down shitty hospital food, made worse by the fact that it was put through a food processor for your own sake
>call your “girlfriend” on the day you're slated to be discharged
>doesn't answer, but walks through the rain without so much as an umbrella to get to the hospital, then walks you back home
>still wearing those goddamn short shorts
>no conversation at all between you two until you're safely in her home
>you can see the tears welling up
>the first word out of her mouth is so shout loud that you almost don't understand it
>”Why?”
>she's shaking with the urge to wreck the furniture, her knuckles pink from clenching her fists and the grinding of her teeth audible
>before you can offer the slightest explanation, she throws a haymaker at empty air, then continues speaking
>she starts slow, unsteady, continuing to ask why
>and then she speeds up, going on and talking about how she wanted the best for you
>talking about how if you'd just gone through with it instead of being a weak piece of shit you'd never have to worry
>finds a gourd, spends a good five seconds just drinking before she continues
>japanese and english blur as she starts to rant about how being with an oni meant you were fucking set for life
>but she didn't want you to freeload off of a red oni's reputation
>that's why she pushed you
>she calls you an invalid piece of shit now that you've got both your arms in slings
>she takes another massive pull on the gourd, then thrusts it at you with such force that the acrid-smelling booze splashes over your face
>shouts that if you want to end your worthless life, you're welcome to do it so long as you don't fucking bother her with it any more
>she drinks again and looks to be on the verge of hurling the gourd at your head
>and then she stops, teeth clenched and eyes wide as she tries desperately to keep all the emotions other than hatred for weak human trash down
>she doesn't
>she starts fucking bawling, hiding her face in her hands and sobbing about how it's her fault your arms and your mouth are fucked up
>she tried shaking you awake when she woke up that morning, finding you passed out with a half-empty gourd a few inches from your hands
>that's where the dislocated shoulders came from
>then she tried slapping you
>that's where the broken jaw came from
>when that didn't wake you up, she realized two things
>that you needed a doctor
>and that she didn't know any human hospitals
>she looked one up and hauled you on her back all the way there
>she says the doctors told her it's a miracle you didn't aspirate or choke to death on your own blood from where your teeth had been knocked out or catch pneumonia or any of a thousand other complications
>her sobbing has changed to that dry hacking cough common to the crying
>her speech is more japanese than english at this point
>what you do understand has her calling herself lower than a human
>she's insisting she should be the one taking their own life for crippling you like this
>you can't reach out and put your hand on her shoulder
>if she does anything to harm herself, you wouldn't be able to stop it
>you doubt she'd even hear you in the midst of her tears
>and if she did, you have no idea how she'd react
>you stand there, waiting for her to cry herself out
>when she looks up again and sees you haven't left, she starts shouting again
>when she finishes she's still seething with loathing for you, who's caused so much trouble
>and for herself, who only made it worse
>when she indignantly asks whether or not you're going to answer, you say three words
>I forgive you
>she's stunned into silence for a moment, her face cycling through grief, indignation, and hatred
>she's obviously trying to keep from bursting into tears again as she insists she's better than you and doesn't need your forgiveness
>she's trying to convince herself more than you
>breaks down into blubbering again, unable to look at you
>she tells you to get the fuck out of her house, and you can tell if she hadn't already done you extensive damage she probably would have shoved you out the door
>you walk back home, your old home
>even if you'd only been living with the oni for two weeks at the most, it feels alien to be back here
>by the time you get there, it seems like she's calmed down enough to want to call you
>you can't get your phone out of your pants, so you settle for taking your pants off and nudging your pocket until it comes out
>you already have four missed calls, all from her
>she's on the fifth now, and you barely manage to answer
>her words are still slurred, and she occasionally slips into japanese, but she sounds better than she did
>she says she understands if you hate her and want a different girlfriend
>she says she's a disgrace for acting high and mighty
>she asks if you really meant it
>she pleads with you, saying that she'll end the fitness regimen if you say that the offer for forgiveness is still valid
>now it's your turn to be stunned into silence
>you can hear her sobbing the slightest bit again as she takes your silence to mean you've rejected her
>you know she only meant the best for you
>you know you were being selfish
>you know broken bones will heal
>what you don't know is whether or not she will
>even if only to keep her from doing anything dangerous, you finally give her an answer
>Yes
>all you hear is her breathing, ragged and shaky
>she ends the call
>you fall asleep in your own bed, not a futon for once, exhausted by the day's events and wanting to stop feeling your arms as anything other than dead weight
>the next morning, you fumble around trying to pick up your phone to check whether or not she fell asleep the same as you
>you really aren't a fan of having both your arms in slings, but having your elbows and fingers operational means you can see she sent you a text
>received: this morning
>Since you said yes last night, would you please come back?
>you realize that it's the first time she's ever requested rather than demanded
>you tell her you'll be at her place
>she says thank you, also for the first time
>you realize with a rueful smile that, while you might not be running laps, she's still got you exercising by walking all over town with and for her
>you also realize that you forgot to take your slings off last night
>at least you won't have to try to put both of them on with zero fully-functioning arms
>you get your fair share of stares on your way, particularly towards where your cheek is swollen from the wire keeping your mouth from hanging open all the time
>you know that when you two go out together she's going to have to bear the burden of those stares, because your injuries are obviously her fault
>as it stands, whispered speculation about what kind of girlfriend you have is what follows you around
>at this point, you don't really care about the gossip
>you just want to see her again and, for what it's worth, figure out what can be patched up between you
>she's drinking green tea at the kotatsu when you get there, although her disheveled appearance and anxious expression suggests she'd rather go back to borrowing happiness from tomorrow out of her gourds
>she invites you to sit down beside her
>you think it's odd, but you realize what she's doing when she lifts a teacup to your lips
>you can't even feed yourself, but your girlfriend is caring for you
>she waves away any thanks you give her, trying to seem nonchalant and failing miserably
>when the first cup is done, she pours you another
>only when that one is finished does she speak up
>unable to look you in the eye, she just says thank you again
>you can barely hear her, but she says she's glad you understand that this was all an accident
>then a pause as she mulls something over, fidgeting slightly
>under other circumstances her nerves might be endearing, but you're not sure if you want any part of something that could make an oni nervous
>she asks if she could hug you
>now it's your turn turn to think carefully about all this
>she promises that she only fucked you up because she was upset
>while she's emotional right now, you don't think upset is really the word for it
>while two dislocated shoulders weren't especially bad, and your broken jaw would be more or less functional after a while, there's still a very real risk she could break your spine if she turns out to be mistaken
>but you've caused her enough heartache
>and you know that if she does hurt you again, that'll be the end of you two in a figurative sense at the very least
>you relent, nodding
>if your arms worked you'd be holding them out to welcome her
>she spends a moment in disbelief when she sees you still accept her
>her arms wrap loosely around your waist
>she isn't confident to squeeze you yet
>she'd rather just hold you, eyes flitting between your face and the teacups on the kotatsu as her anxiety builds, like the longer you two sit there the more likely it is something will go wrong
>nothing does
>eventually she puts her hands back in her lap, like she's embarrassed nothing happened
>she asks if you want anything to eat, obviously doing it just to cover the silence
>even though you're back to living together, you talk even less than you used to
>there's not a hell of a lot for you to do; you've been excused from school for “excessive infirmity”
>she seems more distant now, and probably with good reason
>she mixes up your medication for you
>most of your meals are rice porridge, applesauce, oatmeal-- really, anything you can eat without opening your jaws
>lots of nutritional supplement drinks to make sure you don't lose any weight
>she spoonfeeds you everything when she can, puts straws in everything else since she still has to go to class
>she brushes your teeth for you once you've finished eating to make sure your gums don't get infected around the wires
>even if this is supposed to be intimate, she treats it like just another chore
>they said your jaw would heal up in six weeks, and your shoulders would be back to normal in twice in that
>twice a week she walks you back to the hospital for your physical therapy
>she jokes that she could do the same goddamn thing at no cost, but you know her heart isn't in it
>she just wants you to get better
>she's afraid she'll end up hurting you again if she's the one doing it
>six weeks is a hell of a long time to live off the same old mushy shit
>you can only use much seasoning
>she diligently listens to what complaints you can voice through your shut teeth, never offering anything in return
>she knows that it can't be helped
>lately she's been picking up books for you
>all of them bear stickers marking them as property of the public human library, a place no monster girl would deign themselves to visit
>you know she would shortly have vicious rumors spreading about her running errands for a lowly human
>you try to read slowly so that she won't have to go back so often, but with so much time on your hands it's difficult not to burn through everything
>you don't know whether or not you want your time as an invalid to last longer or be over with sooner
>no matter how much she does for you, it never feels like the two of you get any closer
>you don't know if she'll keep the composure she seems to have developed with you once you're well again
>physical therapy keeps going
>trying to get you to stand up straight to keep your shoulders from rolling forward
>it feels like someone replaced the joint of your shoulder with broken glass
>it feels like they're spending most of your time having you practice writing with your hand still in a sling, since it's mostly elbow and finger motions and you need to have some way to make up for your broken jaw
>halfway through the second week, you can write your first name without succumbing to the pain
>it takes another week before the feeling of bone grinding against bone is subdued enough for you to be able to write your surname
>by the end of that week, writing is virtually pain-free
>pen and paper will compensate for your closed jaw, which will remain that way for the majority of next month
>that way whoever you're speaking to won't have to guess what you're trying to say
>well, they might still have to guess; your handwriting was never that good
>you feel like you're never going to be able to open your mouth again
>she never seems to have any trouble, though
>must be used to deciphering drunken scribbles
>either she just has very little to say and she can read it, or she's bluffing
>the most the two of you “talk” is when you say you liked a book by one author and want more of this or that
>she asks for specifics on occasion and takes a few notes down for her next trip to the library
>all this time when you've needed to bathe, you just stand in the shower and rinse off
>you don't even really bother taking your slings off
>to dry yourself you just kind of find a towel on the rack and press yourself against it
>getting dressed again is a pain
>more accurately, getting your pants back on is a pain, since at the moment it's close to impossible to raise your arms enough to get a shirt on
>so you don't even bother
>at least she leaves you lots of blankets
>and you can still work the microwave to keep whatever mush is coming through your straw today hot
>today, though, you can tell she has something on her mind
>she says that she's pretty sure your current plan for hygiene is inadequate
>albeit in words not nearly as kind
>and then she stops, fidgeting slightly
>she asks if you'd be alright with letting her bathe you
>and she makes sure to add that she'd be keeping her clothes on
>even though the physical therapists have assured you that the strap is breathable, that the flesh of your shoulder is not festering beneath it, and even checked when they take it off for your exercises, you still think it might be a good idea for her to look at it
>she helped you out of your slings and pants
>she dragged a stool into the shower stall for you and laid a towel over your lap
>the water's lukewarm, since your and her preferences for it are obviously going to be different
>and it's not like it'll be easy to tell her when it's too hot or too cold
>it's better if neither of you complain than for one of you to be uncomfortable
>you keep your head down so that you aren't constantly spitting water back out
>she touches methodically at your back, always avoiding the balls of your shoulders, asking if it hurts so she'll know where she can and can't wash you
>or so that she can be sure that she has her own strength
>you always shake your head
>when that's through with, she lathers up a washcloth and starts on the task at hand
>she's joking about how hard it must be for you to live with your girlfriend and not even be able jerk off
>you can tell her heart's not in it
>she even apologizes for mentioning it a few moments later, her voice just loud enough for you to hear against the splashing of the water
>when she has you turn around so she can wash the front half of your skinny body, though, you can see why she'd think that
>you've been too busy suffering in various ways to actually realize anything about her other than her apparent immunity to cold and the fact that she seems incapable of wearing anything below her waist that covers more than an inch of her thighs
>they sort of go hand in hand
>you realize you didn't even know what color her eyes were until she brushes away the hair sticking to her face
>speaking of sticking, her clothes seem to be having quite a time doing the same to her scarlet skin
>you can tell oni aren't much for fashion
>at least, that's what you have to tell yourself so that you aren't paying attention to her
>it really doesn't help that anything you try and say will come out as a wet hiss from your closed teeth
>your eyes are boring holes in the towel spread over your legs
>your heart hasn't raced like this since she had you running laps
>you know she can feel it through the washcloth each time it passes over your chest
>she still says nothing, washing you like she's polishing furniture
>you try to think of nothing at all
>that just stirs up memories of the black haze and the crunching sounds from the night you tried to drink yourself to death
>even with your jaw wired shut, you manage to clench it when you remember that awful night
>fuck that hurts
>you stop, but not before she's glanced up out of concern
>your eyes catch hers again
>she looks away first, eyes sliding back down your body even though there's pretty much nothing to look at
>you're both just trying to distract yourselves
>neither of you seem to be very good at it, though
>you end up looking at her when she's kneeling in front of you to soap up your legs
>she doesn't think anything of it
>or at least is pretending not to think anything of it
>you certainly do
>you close your legs so that the towel slackens, concealing your groin if she happens to look up
>she doesn't
>not until she's washing your feet and you give a weak kick on reflex
>she's brushing her hair out of her eyes again
>just when you thought your pulse was calming down it starts right back up
>your heart feels like it's going to make a break for it and launch itself into her face, embarrassing you even in your dying moments
>the silence isn't helping
>she always seems worried that speaking to you will mean losing her cool and not being able to get it back before she fucks up
>and there's not a hell of a lot you can say through your teeth
>this must be what a mexican standoff feels like
>of course, she speaks up first
>she asks if you remember the promise she made
>you nod, hoping for some reason that she isn't going where you think she's going
>even though a good portion of your education was spent browbeating you until you understood that this was what you existed for
>she asks if you would mind that if she broke it
>she's going where you thought she was going
>you clench your jaw again, hoping that the pain will bring reality back
>it doesn't
>she's still kneeling in front of you
>with your two dislocated shoulders, resting your elbows on your thighs
>asking if you wouldn't mind her stripping
>you're fairly certain that your heartbeat is audible over the water
>the worst part is, you can't stop staring at her in disbelief
>and she keeps staring back, waiting for an answer
>she's not dumb enough to not know what's going to happen when you catch sight of her
>especially with the streams of water running down her chest, highlighting the minute planes of her flat stomach
>and you know she wouldn't give the slightest damn about being nude
>the only reason she's fidgeting there, her eyes bouncing to the wall and then back to your face, is because she's in front of you
>it hits you that you're capable of making an oni nervous, and you're shifting restlessly on your stool right along with her
>you stop much faster than her, though, mostly because your shoulders are complaining quite loudly
>the lucidity the pain brings also spurs the realization that your flight of fancy about a stray lock of hair  sticking to her bare chest, along with all the others, seems to have been met with approval from your lower brain
>you snap your legs shut faster than you had thought it was possible for a human being to move
>but it seems biology is faster than conscious thought
>you've already tented the towel
>but she still hasn't said anything
>no smug quips about how she'll take that as a yes
>or how if you needed her that badly you could have just asked and maybe she'd consider humoring you
>she's still sitting there
>she doesn't seem at all impatient
>when she speaks up, it's to assure you that you're free to call it off if you feel things are going awry
>this is unheard of
>the law says you have no right to refuse a monster girl looking for sex in “reasonably private quarters”
>and if your current whereabouts aren't private, well, there's a reason all the love hotels are now government-subsidized
>so, for all the time you've been together, she could have jumped your bones whenever you were in her house
>but she never so much as mentioned wanting to get into your pants
>if this were any other time you'd be impressed with her force of will
>as it stands, you'd be sweating if it weren't for the endless stream of tepid water washing over you
>your nerves make you more indecisive
>and your indecision makes you more nervous that her patience may be growing thin and this opportunity will go to waste
>then you realize you're thinking of this as an opportunity
>which means that you've been too preoccupied to recognize that you have, on some level, been hoping that this would happen
>maybe not the way the world expects these kinds of relationships to happen
>but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't hope against hope to sleep with her in a way that didn't have at least a ten percent probability of your pelvis being shattered in the process
>that might have been why she wanted to toughen you up
>you'd laugh if this were any other time
>or if you could open your mouth
>but the best you can do is nod again, indicating that, no, you wouldn't mind being naked with your girlfriend in the shower
>you expect her to stand up, make a show out of it or something even though you're already stiff as a board
>instead she just reaches for the collar of her soaked shirt and tears the cotton off of her body like so much wet tissue paper
>you hear her murmur something, just loud enough to reach your ears through the white noise of the shower
>”ya ra na i ka?”
>that's the first time you've seen her smile, and it's a full-blown grin
>for some reason, you aren't at all intimidated by the razor points of her teeth
>maybe it's the bittersweet look in her eyes from joking at a time like this
>or the realization that she actually cares about obtaining your permission
>your manhood doesn't seem to be thinking so deeply into any of this, though, twitching visibly against the terrycloth as you catch sight of her topless
>you've been too busy trying to avoid her for the past weeks to notice her impressive chest
>or that she doesn't own a single bra
>she snaps you out of your momentary ogling/recollection by asking if you like busty girls
>it's rhetorical, but you nod anyway, and she smiles again
>she says she's glad there's something about her you like
>you don't remember when you started blushing so furiously, but you're certainly aware of it now
>getting her shorts off is significantly less of a spectacle, just lifting one leg behind her and sliding the sodden denim as far down as possible, then the other
>you're pretty sure you saw a thong in there, but she recaptures your attention soon enough
>she starts to speak, then trails off
>she has no clue what kind of position would be even feasible, given the state of your shoulders
>you really hope she's not going to suggest blowing you
>you trust her
>just not those teeth
>when she continues, you sigh through your teeth
>she just wants your back on the tile so she can ride you
>she promises that she'll keep her hands on the ground and not you
>and adds, voice slipping from nerves into a husky tone you've never heard from her before, that she'll lean in close so you can get a nice handful
>at least she's being gentle while she's helping you off of the stool so that you don't jar your shoulders too badly
>she lays you down facing towards the shower head
>you think it's kind of odd until she straddles you just below your groin, blocking the water that would otherwise be getting in your eyes and mouth
>she tells you not to worry about foreplay or anything like that
>you're certain she can handle it
>you just wish you could do more for her
>you feel a little bit like you're just a sex toy when her hands encircle your member and press it against her gash
>her hips roll with a deliberate slowness against your shaft, making her shiver
>seems like it doesn't take much to get her ready
>in what seems like only a moment she's sighing and releasing your manhood from her grip, the definite slickness of her fluids standing out against all the water
>she leans forward, making her heavy chest dangle appealingly before your eyes
>you really wish you could suck on her nipples, a deeper red than the rest of her skin and already pebbled
>she sets her hands to either side of your head, eyes locking with yours for a moment before she glances down her shapely form to make sure she's properly aligned
>her lower lips engulf your manhood as slowly as she can manage, her teeth clenching as she forces herself to hold back
>as opposed to slamming her hips down at a speed approaching mach one, as oni are apt to do
>you can see it in her eyes that she's fighting her instincts for your own sake
>a heat unlike anything you've experienced spreads through your groin as she descends, squeezing your member in her core when the head brushes against a cluster of nerves, the strength of it frightening if it lasted any longer than a flash
>finally she settles against you, shifting herself against your skinny body and sighing with relief
>her eyes flit to your face for a moment, making sure you aren't in pain
>your rod has been entirely enveloped by her passage, her inner muscles forming it into a sleeve about your throbbing manhood
>you'd have your mouth open to pant if it weren't for all the metal keeping your jaw closed
>satisfied with that, she reaches to your side for one of your hands, placing it on the firm flesh of one of her impressive orbs
>then the other
>and then she starts to move
>her incredibly deliberate slowness means you feel every ridge dragging over your shaft
>and she feels it each time you twitch while pressed up against a sensitive patch, as you can see by the shudders that slip past her pretenses of composure
>something about her weight against you each time she lowers herself back down is incredibly reassuring
>and, as she changes her pace from glacial to gentle, you find yourself looking forward to it
>means that the movement will be traveling up her body, lending a bounce to her breasts
>your fingers have to squeeze at her perky chest to hold on at times, but neither of you mind very much
>the slight change of rhythm means she's having trouble keeping her hair out of her face, blocking your views of each other
>she keeps stopping to tuck it back away, never seeming to care that it's the umpteenth time a few stray locks have made themselves known
>something about not having full sight of each other in this moment seems too great an ordeal for either of you to wish upon the other
>you get the feeling she'd be holding your hands if she weren't worried that she'd be pulling them away from your body
>and you're sure that if she were, you'd be holding onto them like a drowning sailor to a floating timber
>it's not like her pauses are any major loss for you, given how tight and slick she is
>given the way you can feel yourself pulsing inside of her, what with how tightly she's squeezing you, you don't know when you're going to peak
>you don't know if you want it to be sooner, so you can get to holding each other in the afterglow
>or later, so you can keep staring up at her like this
>her expression tells you she wouldn't care which one happens
>so long as it's you, doing it because you want to
>you can see her canines, or what you assume to be her canines, digging into her lip now and again, always accompanied by a light squeeze from her passage
>you didn't really think you were that good
>especially considering this is, of course, your first time
>maybe she's not at all used to controlling herself like this
>something about your incompetence equating to her pleasure has you breaking into the sort of idiotic grin that only embarrassment mixed with affection can produce
>and her reciprocation of that smile, despite your current case of metalmouth, only cements those feelings
>you think she might have gotten lost in it
>she's going just a little bit faster when she picks back up again
>her hips roll forward each time she hilts you, her hips shaking slightly as if she's trying to coax you deeper
>not that she would need to if you had any say in it
>you can see her hands balling up out of the corners of your eyes, her breathing finally audible over the running water
>you can't help laughing to yourself for a moment, impressed with how quiet you've managed to keep yourself
>your stomach has started to clench as the familiar knot of tension in your belly begins to wind itself tighter
>when you look at her abs, though, you can see the motion rippling through her belly
>you can hear your bodies coming together over the din of the shower
>your grip on her firm chest gets a little tighter to accommodate the quicker motions; quick being a relative term, of course, especially for an oni
>your only regret is that you know you won't be able to wrap your arms around her shoulders and keep her against you when you finally climax
>her hips shift the next time she takes you down to the last inch
>she gradually descends, watching your face for signs of pain as she settles her weight on top of you
>when she finds none, she picks up where she left off, moving in an unhurried grind against you
>you realize what's happening and lower your arms to your side to keep from getting them pinned between you
>you feel her fingers slip underneath your sides as your stomachs come together, a moment after her sizable chest touches down
>if you can't hold her, she'll do it for you
>now that she's so much closer to you, you're a little bit shocked when you realize that the heat in her core also radiates from her skin
>you wonder for a second if her exceptional fitness has anything to do with that before said muscle tone is put to good use squeezing your manhood again
>she leans in towards your ear, her humid breath tickling over the sensitive skin
>you'd be squirming if she weren't laying atop you
>she just tells you not to worry about holding it in for her sake
>she admits she's impressed you've even lasted this long
>you didn't realize you were so close
>if it weren't for the sudden volume of your heartbeat in your ears, you might be able to hear yourself mewling as your stomach clenches for what you know will be the final time
>as your cock twitches at the onset, it knocks into her upper wall
>her reflexive tightening dissolves any hope you may have had of staving your climax off
>you can't manage much beyond ragged breathing and soft moans as you pulsate in the embrace of her passage, painting her inner walls white
>you always were sort of quiet
>her hips just keep rolling against you
>if you asked, she'd say she was doing it to make sure you were enjoying yourself as much as possible
>if you could think at the moment, you might attribute it to a monster girl's instincts
>it could be both or just the latter and you wouldn't care
>your vision swims with the pleasure of your first release in some time, never mind your first time with a woman, blurring until you don't really see anything
>except a blur of red, of course
>when you wake up, you're sitting against the shower walls
>you realize you passed out for a second
>which explains why she turned you away from the shower head
>she has her arm over your shoulder and is staring at the ceiling with a look of contentment
>she glances over when she feels you stirring, giving you a tranquil grin of satisfaction
>a quick lean is all it takes for her to press a kiss to your cheek, your face still warm even with the water
>and a quick peek between her spread legs confirms that your memory is accurate
>any hopes of your blood moving out of your cheeks are swiftly dashed
>she shows off those razor teeth in another unabashed grin, your wandering eyes not escaping her notice
>she assures you that she had more fun than she thought was possible when there were only two working arms in the equation
>you manage to express through your teeth that you're in no way willing to become a father
>she just laughs and explains that knocking up an oni is the sexual equivalent of getting blood from a stone
>something about how they're as hardy as it gets and live longer than relatives you hate to boot
>but she adds that, if you're really worried, she'll grab a test next time she goes out
>when you ask how long you've been in the shower, she just shrugs
>you were only out for a minute, though
>she laughs a little bit, pretty pleased with herself for rendering you briefly catatonic
>you both decide it would be prudent to get out of the shower when your fingers start getting wrinkly
>after you get dressed, everything is a lot like the other days
>she looks at you and grins a little more
>you blush a little more
>the only other surprise comes up when you're getting ready to crash for the night on her futon
>well it's more like your futon at this point
>apparently that's changing, though
>you find her spreading the blankets over the thin mattress
>she glances up when she hears you walk in and asks if you would mind her sleeping with you
>of course she adds that she doesn't mean sleeping with you in that sense
>just sharing a bed
>she promises she won't wake you up by trying to fuck you or anything like that
>it dawns on you that she's not inviting you into her bed, but asking your permission to live the same way as you
>that or her bed just isn't big enough for the two of you
>come to think of it, you've never seen her bed
>but you think as you nod that you might never need to
>her arms wrap around your waist once the two of you have settled in
>it never really occurred to you that she was at the very least a head taller than you until she's got her chin nestled in your hair and her belly against your back
>the next day is physical therapy
>it's also the day you find out the results of your follow-up X-rays
>the doctors (or doctor, since the human hospital can't exactly afford an extensive payroll) seem to be impressed with your progress
>schedules are being made for next week, when you'll finally be able to open your mouth again
>apparently you can ditch the slings as well
>you had them on after the second week more or less as a precaution, since the dislocation seemed pretty bad
>you won't have full range of motion for another couple of weeks, but you'll be able to feed yourself
>you wonder how real that sigh out of her is
>they suggest light exercise to help make sure what's healed isn't unusably fragile
>she's giving you one of those sidelong glances and raising her eyebrows
>you don't remember ever feeling so sheepish around her, but you're glad that you don't just reject the idea outright
>the whole way back from the hospital she's cracking jokes about how you're going to be eating her out for hours to make up for lost time
>you seem to have recovered enough of your sense of humor to grin right along with her
>the weather is even getting better
>by the time you're off the painkillers for the removal of the wire, it is most certainly spring
>not only spring, but shorts weather
>for you, at least
>it's always shorts weather for her
>you're back in class, all the people who would claim to be your friends but who you'd said less than ten words to asking you about how you can look so happy
>you just shrug and say that there's another side of her
>once class has let out, you decide to make good on the doc's recommendation
>you've come out to the school track, dressed in the gym clothes she gave you what feels like years ago
>she's standing right beside you, guiding you through the stretches
>when you're sufficiently limber, she gives you your instructions
>walk the short, jog the long
>you set off on the straight at a modest clip, the sun warming your brow
>you never knew how good it felt to sweat before
>she keeps up right beside you even if it means limiting herself, cheering you on the whole way