My childhood friend got me drunk and did it with me. I think it felt really good, so I continued being with her as well. ...Yandere? what is that?

Chapter 11: Whispers in the Dark

(Miyuki’s POV)

The night was quiet. Almost too quiet.

The soft hum of the city outside our window barely reached my ears as I stood beside our bed, watching him.

Natsume.

My beloved.

The man who had occupied my thoughts, my heart, my very existence, for so long that I could no longer separate where he ended up inside me.

And yet, even now, he was still so distant. Even now, there was a part of him that remained out of reach.

But that was fine.

Because I was patient.

I sat carefully on the bed, adjusting my position until I was just beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. He was already deep in sleep, his breaths slow and steady, his chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm.

So vulnerable.

So mine.

My fingers twitched with the overwhelming need to touch him, to claim him in ways he still didn’t understand. But I had to be careful. I had to move slowly.

I exhaled softly and reached out, letting my fingertips brush against his hair. Dark strands, soft as silk, slipped through my fingers as I smoothed them back from his forehead. He shifted slightly but didn’t wake, his lips parting just a little as he breathed.

A small smile curled at the corner of my lips.

So adorable.

Did he have any idea how many nights I had spent like this? Watching him. Loving him. Yearning for him.

Did he know how often I held myself back, forcing restraint where there should be none?

I trailed my fingers lower, brushing against his temple, tracing the delicate curve of his cheekbone, the faint roughness of his jawline.

Would he let me do this if he were awake?

Or would he look at me with those exasperated, flustered eyes, telling me to stop?

My heart clenched at the thought.

No, I didn’t want that. I didn’t want him pushing me away.

Not when he was already mine.

I shifted, moving closer, my knees pressing into the mattress as I leaned over him. My free hand traced downward, gliding over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the firm muscle underneath to his manhood.

So warm. So strong.

So… male.

The scent, his scent

A shiver ran through me.

I wanted more.

Would he let me?

Would he allow me to touch him like this if he were awake?

Or would he resist?

A quiet sigh escaped my lips as I let my fingers drift lower, pressing lightly against the ridges of his abs. Even through the thin fabric, I could feel the strength beneath.

I am helping him to his dreams, I am trying my best here as well. To open up all the barriers that lays in front of him.

A dangerous thought crept into my mind.

I can just remove his shirt. His pants

Just one little tug, and I could see everything I had dreamed about for so long. Maybe even more.

My breathing grew shallow and fast.

Would he wake if I did it?

Would he even realize?

I swallowed hard, the temptation nearly unbearable.

I deserve it right? This is a reward for my hardwork.

“…Nn~”

But, Instead,

I decided to settle for more.

I moved my hands lower, over his waist, tracing the sharp lines of his hips. My thighs clenched around him, my body aching in ways I shouldn’t allow. Taking his hands, his fingers and sucking them, then slowly guiding them under my abdomen.

“…hnng..”

I bit on his shirt. As I rubbed against his hands.

This was enough, wasn’t it?

Just touching him like this.

Just letting him touch me like this.

Just feeling the heat of his skin beneath my fingers.

Just having his fingers envelop with my own precious heat.

But this wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

I leaned in, pressing my forehead against his shoulder, my lips hovering just above his skin.

Would he wake if I kissed him?

World he wake up, if I bit him?

Just a little?

Would he sigh in his sleep, unaware of what I was stealing from him?

Or would he murmur my name, lost in a dream where I was the only one who mattered?

I let out a soft, shaky breath, my lips brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

I needed more.

More of him.

More of us.

I lifted my head slightly, watching his face. His lips were parted, his expression peaceful. Completely unaware of the storm raging inside me.

I shifted, aligning my body closer to his, pressing my chest against his side, feeling the way his warmth seeped into me. My arms slid around him, holding him just a little tighter, as if I could somehow merge into him, erase the space that always seemed to exist between us.

“Nnn…”

A soft sound escaped him.

I froze.

Had he woken?

No. His breathing remained steady, his body relaxed.

But then—

“…Miyuki…”

A rush of heat flooded through me.

I inhaled sharply, my nails digging lightly into his skin through his shirt.

My mouth starting to suck on his skin and my breasts gliding against his thighs.

He said my name.

He dreamt of me.