"…Hm?"
I woke up in bed.
But Miyagi, who should've been beside me, wasn't there.
"He left?"
No—it was late, and even a sheltered kid like him would know a guy walking alone at night's risky.
Plus, trains and buses aren't running now.
I left the bedroom, checked the other rooms, and found him asleep on the living room sofa.
He'd pulled on pants and a T-shirt, using his school uniform as a blanket.
"…Could've slept with me."
Then I remembered—the sheets were a disaster, mostly my fault.
He probably left the cleanest spot for me, giving up the bed.
As the woman—older, teacher, all that—I should've been the one to yield.
No redeeming qualities there, huh?
Back in the bedroom, I swapped the sheets quick.
Well-prepared? Obviously—I'd planned for this.
I stashed the scattered glasses and Black Thunder, then gathered my clothes, underwear, and Miyagi's white dress shirt from the floor.
Returning to the living room, I lifted him by the shoulders, careful not to wake him.
A man's body is heavy—I couldn't carry him easily—but he slept so deep, dragging him half-way didn't stir him.
I undid his belt and pants hook to ease him up.
Then laid him on the fresh sheets, tucking a blanket over him.
Old me would've jumped at this—unprotected guy, free meal—but not now.
"Heh."
His sleeping face, boyish and innocent, made me smirk with confidence.
I want him to pace himself, sure, but he's my fuck buddy.
A guy I can bang anytime I ask, and next summer, my baby-making partner.
…He's declared other girls too, which nags at me, but I trust he won't break promises—I've accepted this deal. No second-guessing.
The clock read past 6 a.m.
"Probably starving."
Last night was intense exercise.
Usually, the woman moves more, but he went all out—I just got overwhelmed.
"…When a guy gets serious, no woman's strength or stamina can match."
Though I've never heard of any man being this aggressive with a woman.
"Wonder if he likes sweets?"
I headed to the kitchen for sugar toast.
On the way, I borrowed his dress shirt.
"It's going in the wash anyway—little use won't hurt."
Muttering an excuse to no one, I slipped it over my bare skin.
A bit big, but wearing a man's clothes—especially after a night together—felt oddly dear.
Not some cross-dressing kink—just affection for his stuff.
With only panties underneath, I started breakfast.
Tray in hand, I peeked into the bedroom—Miyagi was waking up.
"Awake?"
"Ah."
A morning coffee with a guy—finally.
I'd prefer my name over "Sensei," but that's pushing it.
"Good morning, Miyuki-san."
Wait—he used my name.
No lust in his vibe.
He's just matching the moment, huh?
Another piece of my dream, picked up by him.
Last night, a devil—now, an angel again.
"Uh, morning."
Hiding my blush, I managed a reply.
His eyes drifted over me.
"Sorry, borrowed this."
"No, it suits you—weird to say? Your thighs and butt peeking out are cute."
"R-Really?"
Wasn't aiming for that, but no pants caught his eye.
Fresh smile, pervert words—full throttle from dawn.
"All I've got, but I made it."
Not lust—just fondness—drove me to sit beside him, shoulders touching, offering the tray.
"Huh? Just for me?"
One serving—thick sugar toast and coffee.
"Yeah, I skip breakfast on weekends."
True—sleep trumps food for me.
"Got it. Thanks!"
"…Hold on."
My greed's endless.
Last night at the yakiniku place, I fed him—now I want to hand-feed him here.
I tore the toast into bites.
Melted sugar and butter clung to my fingers.
"Miyagi, open up—here, ahh."
My cheeks warmed.
Doing this at my age—I worried he'd tire of me—but I can't stop.
And yet, he always satisfies me.
"Thanks!"
He opened wide, no hesitation, eating from my hand.