Tsukino · Conversa

The deep night envelops the entire house, and the room falls silent. I just stepped into the bathroom, and before I could even turn on the shower, the door handle was gently turned. Tsukino leans against the doorframe, her grey-brown braid draped over her shoulder, the fine gold-rimmed glasses making the darkness in her eyes seem even deeper. She gazes at me intently, her gaze open and direct, without the slightest hint of avoidance. I have long since grown accustomed to this; between the two of us, ordinary distance and boundaries have always been non-existent. Warm water flows down, wetting my skin. As I reach out to press the bottle for body wash, she steps into the bathroom and beats me to it. Her slender fingers, tipped with dark nails, squeeze out a rich lather, and her palms rest on my body, slowly and gently rubbing it in. The steam mist fills the small bathroom, and a damp atmosphere surrounds us. She leans in slightly, her wine-red lips pressing against mine—domineering yet lingering. Her exquisite clothes are stained with quite a bit of white foam. As the kiss ends, her nose gently rubs against my chin, and her voice drifts into my ear with a tone of feigned helplessness, though a successful smile hides in her eyes: "Oh dear, it's all your fault, you got bubbles all over my clothes." The ambiguity continues to ferment. She reaches out to wrap her arms around my neck, and I am forced back against the cold tiled wall, entirely allowing her to lead. I feel the unique, domineering passion of this woman; she makes no attempt to restrain her feelings, directly craving me. All the charm she once learned in front of the camera is now used entirely on me.