It was awful that she gave in to her satisfaction. It was worse that she found it twice, in eagerly frantic succession. First, before him, and then again when she understood he’d come undone inside her. Naho was always careful. She demanded it, and he was meticulous. There was nothing about this that was meticulous. Her notes were scattered around her desk like too many autumn leaves and she, burning in the summer afternoon, had nothing in her to help her to move when Kitato left her. He caught her kiss when she took her first inhale to find her breath, and she chased him with the weight of her stare as he pulled his shirt back on.<br/><br/>Still in her repose on her desk, panting, she seemed unsure whether she was incredulous or astounded. Rei thought she should say something, but he offered nothing to buoy either of them toward any understanding beyond the one they’d found between her legs. It was tasteless to watch him move in silence, but it felt like he’d won an absurd argument. He’d looked at her like that, too. Silly girl, you should have known.<br/><br/>When she became frustrated with waiting—for herself or for him—she straightened her blouse and underclothes, tugging her skirt down as she slipped from the desk and peeling her hair back from her damp cheeks. She didn’t look at him while she tidied up. Kit would recognize it as that same stubborn calm she’d insisted on when he’d caught her exposed in her room. Her expression, though, was not so serene. “I’ll expect you to have completed your readings for next class…” she began, like she could step simply back into that role she’d tried on. It was ridiculous, because he’d stripped it from her like any poor excuse and she’d been found deeply guilty.<br/><br/>She jumped when her phone began to vibrate, and her head whipped toward the rattling sound like she’d been slapped. A soft expletive curled from her tongue and Kit should have taken it as a compliment. Rei never cursed. Rei scrambled to grab the device before the call went to voicemail.<br/><br/>“Naho!” she felt the enthusiasm in her voice force hard enough that it made her wince, and she tried not to look at Kitato as he packed his bag. She didn’t want to see what sort of face he’d be making. She couldn’t imagine one that would have made things better. “I should have called you right after class ended. I’m sorry.”