Morning light leaked into Seiji's room, pale and cool.
Seiji felt it, even though his eyes were still closed. He was almost ready to let go of the dream—but not yet.
A faint knock.
So quiet he wasn't sure it happened.
Seiji wondered if it was Yumi. She had disappeared into her room last night, and he hadn't heard from her since.
He pictured his sister's milk-engorged breasts, his mind still half in a dream. He could almost feel and smell them…
The door slid open a little.
"Seiji, are you awake?"
Haruko's voice, low, careful.
She came! To my room! I'm really a god!
He heard her step inside.
"Seiji?"
He slowly opened his eyes.
Haruko wasn't in her usual crisp composure. But she stood there, hands folded too neatly, breath too quiet.
"I… wanted to wake you," she said.
Not a real reason you're here. A pretext.
Then he noticed the hairpin he'd given her, glinting softly in her hair.
She is wearing it! For me. She's telling me she's mine.
The stepmom approached his bed and sat on the edge, posture held perfectly—like she was afraid of what might happen if she relaxed.
Her fingers brushed her skirt once.
"Yesterday."
A breath.
"Your hand."
Seiji didn't move or speak.
Her eyes lowered, lashes trembling.
"What was it?"
You're asking? What do you think it was?
Silence stretched.
He felt her waiting—tense, overflowing.
"I felt you needed it," he said quietly, still not fully awake.
She shook her head slightly, almost apologizing.
"I keep… feeling it."
Seiji's hand moved before he thought.
He laid it over hers.
Like yesterday.
But this time, her fingers loosened under his right away, turning palm-up in a small, instinctive surrender.
"Seiji…" she whispered.
Seiji watched the change in her. The slight tremor in her shoulders, the way her lips stayed parted.
She leaned toward him, hesitant at first.
Her lips brushed his—soft, waiting.
He met her halfway.
Then she kissed him again.
And again—deeper and steadier.
She was choosing him.
Already had.
And she didn't want to stop.
When she finally straightened, her gaze dropped down Seiji's body.
She saw that he was hard under the blanket.
Her cheeks flushed.
What is she thinking? Is she going to do it?!
Haruko's other hand slipped with purpose. Moved the blanket down.
Her fingers hovered. Then, touched. Lightly at first.
Seiji breathed out, sharp. His hips shifted toward her.
Fuck! She knows how to touch!
Her fingers curled. A firm, gentle grip. She began to stroke him slowly.
"You like this, don't you?" she muttered.
"Yes," Seiji replied in almost identical tone.
"I'm glad."
He watched her face. Lips parted. Brow furrowed in concentration. She was clearly enjoying every second of it.
She freed up the other hand and wrapped it around his balls, massaging them gently.
So good! This is too much!
A tight heat started building in Seiji. He teetered on the edge.
"Haruko…"
"Yes?"
She didn't stop. Her grip tightened. Her thumb circled the ridge.
"Haruko…"
He groaned. His body arched. A smile spread across Haruko's face.
Fuck!
Seiji came in hot spurts across his stomach. Pleasure so intense it was almost pain. He could feel the sweet heat of his own cum on his body.
Silence. Only their breathing. Haruko's hand finally stopped, but did not let go. She watched him shudder.
It seemed like she was going to say something, but she didn't.
Instead, she leaned down and kissed him again. Deep, wet, her hands still on his cock. The best kind of kiss.
"Seiji…"
"Yes?"
She pulled back, and their eyes met.
"Nothing."
She released him. She didn't wipe her hands. She just looked at him, her face flushed with a beautiful, peaceful glow.
"That…" she said quietly, "…is my answer."
Then she stood, smoothing her blouse a little.
She touched the hairpin—his hairpin—as though reminding him about it.
Seiji nodded, and she smiled wider.
She walked to the door, where she paused.
"Breakfast soon," she said softly. "Don't be late."
A soft, definitive click followed.
She was gone.