Rei felt Kitato’s mood like the summer heat. It was stifling, and she made to withdraw from where she’d brought them too near. He had been pressed further than he was willing to let move unchecked. She understood that, and all the other things, when he grabbed her. Rei could remember a time when his hands were small in the palm of her own. She’d been Nahoya’s childhood playmate before she’d been his lover. Somehow, she’d missed the change that made Kit’s fingers wrap around her shoulder with ease. When he pulled her, she gasped but made no other audible protest, staring at him wide-eyed like she’d seen a ghost in him. Naho’s probably, who shared so many features with his brother despite wearing them so differently. It was a last moment to feel horrified before she found the worst parts of herself.<br/><br/>“Kit!” she hissed when he had hauled over the top of the desk like it had been a simple thing, suddenly turned beneath him with her  wrists hard against the wood. If she were asked about it later, Rei probably would have insisted that she told him to stop, but she said no such thing. None of this should really have been startling. Maybe that it had come to boil now, or that he had the audacity to break their newest established relationship without half a moment's pause, but that it had come to burn this way… Rei had only ever turned her face away from Kit growing up. She wasn’t a stupid woman. “What do you think you’re doing?” she still asked him stupid questions, staring up at the line of his jaw as he loomed over her.<br/><br/>His tongue was more fluent than any of his sullen had tried to be. A muffled yelp, and he had disregarded any disapproval that might have been on her lips. It was too hot in that damnable room.<br/><br/>It was not hard to set some urgency in the rise and fall of her chest, her kiss stolen and the thick air laboring her lungs. Rei writhed on the desk, feet kicking, and it only served the shove the purchase of her own desk chair away from her. She had never tasted something so starved. His fingers, frustrating her blouse, were scalding through the thin fabric. When she twisted, like she had to have the excuse of resistance, it was only to arch her spine and give his hands more of her skin as he exposed it.<br/><br/>Rei tried to say something against his lips. Neither he nor she could really be certain of what it was, but it gave her tongue play with his intruding and died in a thin and strangled moan. She was certain it was the heat that made her head swim, but she began to give back some enthusiasm with wet gasps and the strain of her slender neck. She would reflect later on the pathetic moments it had taken her to give in to Kitato’s appeal and wonder if they had felt this taste in the space between them. For how long had they been dancing orbits as far from each other as possible? Rei had been happily discontent to blame it on Kit's adolescent petulance. She would touch her lips and retreat to her bed with the threads of a regrettable new secret.<br/><br/>And yet, the shame she understood she should feel was a thrill in the weight of his touch. When he roughed her skirt high on her thighs, the thin and unsatisfying breeze did nothing but make her shudder. Rei kissed him harder. Every base part of her understood where he sought her, and she would have been a fool to deny that her skin was flush and eager. Her panicked and tunneling thoughts were being pushed aside by the novelty of his touch, and it took a great deal of denial to ignore that she pressed her own knees wider against the edge of the desk when her skirt had been drawn up. The thin cotton of her ever-practical underclothes had never seemed so remarkably restrictive. He’d find the thin strip of cloth damp and clinging to the expressive curvatures of her sex. Sweat, and this abruptly exposed curiosity.<br/><br/>Rei had often felt people were more honest when caught off guard, and that said nothing pleasant for herself. She, who had never been pressed into intimacy she did not overtly desire, now shuddered and gave freely to the pull of Kitato’s tide. Her hips arched, leveraging with her knees against the edge of the desk, and she had the laughable modesty to appeal rather than demand the hand that had found her. Even in the sweltering room, she felt hot. “Kit?” she sounded confused when she was able to catch a breath, but it did not stop her from searching for his lips in the immediately following moment. What do we think we’re doing?