When your body itches, a scratch will do, but how do you treat the itch in the heart of a gorgeous wife?
Shuichi Chiba was at a loss. Other methods were just scratching through boots—temporary relief, not a cure.
Luckily, he remembered a famous saying: a woman's… is the shortcut to her soul. So, there was only one way to truly cure that heart-itch!
And that was to cure the heart-itch.
"Chiba-kun…" She whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of hesitation and need. Her fingers toyed with the silken edge of her kimono, betraying her nervousness. "This itch… it's unbearable."
"Then let me help you," He said, his hand gently brushing her cheek, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her jaw. Her skin was warm, almost feverish, and her eyes fluttered shut at his touch. He leaned in, his lips grazing hers in a tentative kiss, testing the waters. Fumika responded with a soft moan, her hands finding his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself to him.
The kiss deepened, hungry and unrestrained. Shuichi's hands slid down her sides, tugging gently at the obi that held her kimono in place. The silk parted with a whisper, revealing the smooth expanse of her skin, flushed with anticipation. Fumika shivered as the cool air kissed her bare shoulders, but Shuichi's hands were quick to warm her, tracing the delicate lines of her collarbone before dipping lower.
"Chiba-kun," She gasped, her voice a plea as his fingers found the curve of her breast, teasing the sensitive nipples until it hardened under his touch. Her head tilted back, exposing the slender column of her throat, and he pressed his lips there, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling the rapid pulse beneath.
"You're so beautiful," He murmured against her neck, his breath hot and teasing. Fumika's hands roamed his back, pulling him closer, her nails digging into his shoulders as she surrendered to the heat building within her. The itch in her heart was no longer a distant ache but a fire demanding to be fed.
He eased her down, the kimono pooling around her like liquid silk, leaving her bare and vulnerable beneath him. Her eyes, dark with desire, locked onto his, and she reached for him, tugging at his belt with trembling fingers.
"Please," She whispered, her voice raw with need. "I need you to make it stop."
He didn't hesitate. Shedding his clothes, he joined her on the table, their bodies pressed together, skin against skin. His hands explored her, memorizing every curve, every soft sigh that escaped her lips as he kissed his way down her body. Her thighs parted instinctively as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, teasingly close to the heat of her core.
"Chiba-kun…" Her voice was a desperate whine now, her hips arching toward him. He didn't make her wait. His mouth found her, tasting her sweetness, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that drew a cry from her lips. Fumika's fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer as waves of pleasure rippled through her. The itch was no longer just in her heart—it consumed her entirely.
When she was trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps, Shuichi rose, positioning himself above her. Their eyes met, a silent agreement passing between them. He entered her slowly, savoring the way her body welcomed him, tight and warm. Fumika's moan was a melody, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.
They moved together, a rhythm as old as time, each thrust a step closer to soothing that relentless itch. Fumika's nails raked down his back, her voice rising in soft cries that mingled with his own low groans. The world narrowed to the heat of their bodies, the slick slide of skin, the crescendo of their shared need.
"Chiba-kun..!" She cried out, her body arching as she reached her peak, her inner walls pulsing around him. The sight of her, lost in ecstasy, pushed him over the edge. With a final thrust, he followed her, their release a shared moment of raw, unfiltered connection.
They collapsed together, breathless, their bodies entwined on the table. Fumika's fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, her breathing slowing as the fire in her heart settled into a warm glow. The itch was gone, replaced by a quiet contentment that wrapped them both in its embrace.
"Better?" Shuichi asked, his voice soft, a smile tugging at his lips.
Fumika nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken. "Much better," She whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. For now, the shortcut to her soul had worked its magic, and the itch in her heart was finally at peace.
*
The treatment was a lengthy process, quite taxing on stamina. By the time one session was complete, the entire shopping street had quieted down.
Doctor Chiba left his patient, Fumika, behind, steadying himself against the wall as he exited the salon, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
The cool evening breeze he inhaled seemed to leak out from every part of his body.
But it left him feeling refreshed, almost floating.
He checked the time—good, there was still enough tonight. Time to visit the flower shop and apologize. Skipping yesterday without notice, he wondered how long Kitagawa-san had waited.
Plus, today had been hectic with a midday nap thrown in, so he'd only now remembered.
What a shame.
After stretching his no-longer-sore body, Shuichi knocked lightly on the flower shop's door. A response came quickly from inside.
Pushing the door open, he walked through rows of vibrant flowers, turned a corner, and spotted Ichika on her rocking chair in the corner.
She looked up from her book, sizing him up. "Not busy today?"
"Sorry, last night wasn't about being busy. I was so exhausted from training that I meant to rest briefly but overslept. By the time I woke, it was midnight—too late to bother you, Kitagawa-san."
Shuichi gave a concise explanation.
Ichika didn't seem to care much about such things. She nodded slightly, gesturing for him to sit.
"You fell asleep in your workout clothes? Doesn't that feel uncomfortable?"
Shuichi, just seated, paused. He thought the topic had passed—why bring it up again?
Then he noticed Ichika's outfit today—a silk nightgown.
It wasn't that he'd missed it earlier; his attention just hadn't been there. His body was so drained, lacking its usual sharpness and eagerness.
"It's a bit uncomfortable, but when you're that tired, you don't care much," He said.
"I see…" Ichika nodded faintly, continuing in her detached tone, "I'm much fussier about that. I can't sleep well with clothes on."
"…"
Shuichi froze, wondering if he'd misheard. Was he so exhausted that he was hallucinating?
But Ichika looked up, her complex gaze meeting his, her ethereal voice sounding again.
"Is sleeping naked that strange? You seem surprised, Chiba-kun."
Shuichi snapped out of it, confirming it wasn't a hallucination. "Uh, no, not strange. In summer, I don't wear a shirt to bed either.
Going completely bare—I've thought about trying it. Seems comfy. Just… Well, Kitagawa-san probably gets it. For guys, to avoid washing sheets, it's better to wear something."
Ichika studied his eyes for a moment. Aside from a hint of surprise, there wasn't much else in his gaze.
He probably hadn't expected her to bring up such a topic, right?
She gave a faint smile. "Enough chit-chat. Let's start tutoring."
Shuichi couldn't quite grasp her intentions, but he had some guesses, tied to what Nagase-sensei had mentioned before…
The rumor about Ichika's female colleague staying at her place and catching her walking around naked—likely tied to her nude sleeping habit?
Maybe she got up to use the bathroom at night and was seen?
Seems like a stubborn habit, not even wearing pajamas with a guest over.
So why, knowing she wasn't used to it, did she let her colleague stay? Was she just that kind?
Shuichi's thoughts hadn't fully formed into a conclusion when he was jolted by the sight before him.
Ichika set down her book, picking up some materials from the coffee table. In those simple movements, Shuichi confirmed a more bewildering fact.
Her nightgown was empty underneath.
Just like Sayuki earlier.
Shuichi was baffled. What was she doing? Seducing him?
Could it be that the temporary charm buff Fumika gave him during that haircut had attracted this "perfect woman," as Sumire called her?
No way…
The flower shop's tranquility and his drained body kept his mind unusually clear, unclouded by desire.
Soon, he pieced together a rough guess based on their prior interactions.
Ichika, this "perfect woman," wasn't perfect. She likely had a peculiar kink, just like the president.
Was it a thing for exposure?
The colleague before—had she brought her home to test her reaction?
Was today's situation the same? After that balcony scene the other day, did she think he was a kindred spirit, just as deviant?
Ugh, his reputation was suffering. The perverted president was clearly her real match…
Come to think of it, she'd specifically asked how he viewed the president's odd kinks. Was she worried her own quirks would be judged?
"Chiba-kun?" Ichika had been watching his reactions. When his gaze landed on her nightgown, she noticed.
But, somewhat unexpectedly, she'd thought he'd stare briefly then look away. Instead, he was staring, lost in thought.
Not leering lustfully or panicking—just gazing while his mind seemed elsewhere, pondering some puzzle.
This reaction, though unexpected, was good enough for Ichika.
At least… he was as she'd hoped, someone worth getting closer to.
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