She was deeply certain that this was unfair. It had to be, and Kitato was awful to conspire against her this way. To conspire against Nahoya. There, she felt her conviction fair. As the eager warmth of her breath sought his kiss and she trembled against his touch, she could not be anything if not wholly complicit to this stark betrayal. It should have made her pull away from him, but it did not. Instead, she heard herself sigh and whimper like she’d been waiting for this.<br/><br/>His fingers against her eager slick were rough enough that it twisted a little hurt within her building need, which seemed like a satire for punishment as it struck something novel in her. He wasn’t being sweet nor sullen and it was an implausible indulgence that she found herself gravitating toward like it belonged to her. She was panting when he curled his digit in to meet her, tight and flexing. It wasn’t right that she should feel herself rising toward a fever peak so soon. She shouldn’t have been aching to have him deeper, but she shoved her knees against the desk harder still. It was crude, and her hips sought to give him more of herself. She gasped when he withdrew.<br/><br/>Rei pushed herself onto her elbows when he pulled away from her. Her skin was flushed, her hair in as much disarray as her clothes, and she felt a momentary dread that Kit was about to tell her this had been some sort of cruel trick. It crushed her with self-awareness that left her desperate for him when he found her on the other side of the desk. To think about what she was doing behind her racing heartbeat was too miserable to allow.<br/><br/>She was not coy when she looked at him, eyes darting back to see what face he was watching her with when he pulled her to meet him. Rei didn’t know what she wanted to see in his expression, but she felt it validated the intimacy of their closed distance and left her unabashed when her swollen lips parted. She exhaled her hitching breath and pressed herself forward to take him in. She trembled when he said her name, failing to reply with anything more coherent than lewd sounds and a frantic pitch forward to wrap her arms around his neck and burry him deeper.<br/><br/>The shudder of his breath against her earlobe was a confession she repaid in the inviting pressure she gave his length and the way she tucked her knees toward her chest like she was begging. She matched his pace at first, learning the way they fit at each stroke, and then whispered his name in increasingly imploring tones.