Izuku leaned back on the couch, eyes still flicking to Mitsuki as she moved around the kitchen. The subtle sway of her hips caught his attention, and he had to suppress a smirk. She had this effortless presence—calm, composed, but with a hint of playful mischief in the way she glanced his way.
Masaru's voice broke the quiet again, talking over the ga. "You know, Izuku, you ever think about taking a break from all that U.A. stuff? Sotis a kid's gotta just chill at ho."
"Yeah… sotis," Izuku replied casually, though his focus was partly elsewhere. His eyes followed Mitsuki as she wiped a plate, the curve of her back illuminated by the morning light spilling through the kitchen window.
She caught his gaze again, this ti holding it just a beat longer, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips before she turned back to her task.
It was enough to make his chest tighten slightly. He leaned subtly forward, trying to act casual, though his pulse had picked up.
Masaru, oblivious, cheered loudly at a play on the screen, making Izuku flinch and glance toward him.
'Dude is under the ntr spell ' he thought.
Mitsuki moved closer to the couch to grab a glass of water, and Izuku's hand twitched slightly, as if drawn by so invisible pull.
Their eyes t again over the rim of the glass, and this ti, she let her hand linger on the edge of the table just a mont longer than necessary.
'Yep,' he thought with a smirk,' she wants '
She returned to the kitchen, leaving him alone with Masaru for now, but the electricity in the room hadn't faded. Izuku shifted slightly on the couch, planning his next move while pretending to watch the ga.
Every glance, every casual movent from Mitsuki made him more aware of the unspoken tension—and he couldn't wait to see how far he could push it while keeping the act casual in front of her husband.
After so ti, he excused himself and walked toward the bathroom, the soft creak of the floor under his feet the only sound. Inside, the cool tiles pressed against his bare feet as he finished and washed his hands, watching his reflection in the mirror.
The bathroom door creaked open, and out of the corner of his eye in the mirror, he saw Mitsuki slipping inside, shutting it quietly behind her.
"I didn't think you'd make the first move," he said, drying his hands slowly, trying to keep his voice casual, though the flutter in his chest betrayed him.
" neither," she murmured, her voice low, almost husky. "But I guess I missed you more than I thought I did."
He gave a small, teasing grin. "Oh really? Show ."
Mitsuki stepped closer, the heat from her body brushing against his as their faces drew nearer. The air seed to thicken around them, warm and heavy with anticipation. Their lips t in a kiss that started tentative but quickly deepened, urgent and hungry.
His hands slid around her waist, pulling her gently but insistently closer, feeling the soft curve of her hips beneath his palms. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as if to anchor herself, pressing closer to the familiar warmth of him.
Through the mirror, he caught sight of the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the faint flush coloring her cheeks. Every soft sigh, every quiet moan that escaped her lips made the tension in the room pulse stronger, like electricity arcing between them.
Their kiss broke briefly, just long enough to let their foreheads touch, eyes locking, breaths mingling. Mitsuki's lips curved into a small, almost shy smile before she leaned in again, pressing herself into him as the kiss deepened, slow and languid now, savoring the closeness and the long-missed intimacy.
They broke their kiss yet again, breath mingling, lips tingling from the intensity.
"You should go back before Masaru gets suspicious," he said, voice low but teasing, the smirk tugging at his lips betraying his mischief.
"Yeah, don't try anything dumb," she replied, her fingers still wet from the soapy dishes as she cast a quick glance toward the living room.
Izuku's smirk widened. ' But that's just what I was about to do,' he thought, stepping out a minute later.
He scanned the living room and saw Masaru, now reclined with his back toward the kitchen, engrossed in the ga. Perfect timing.
Wow, talk about luck, he thought, a flicker of amusent in his chest.
Izuku walked deliberately toward the kitchen, the soft scrape of his shoes against the floor making Mitsuki's pulse quicken. She frowned, sensing the quiet tension, knowing damn well he had sothing planned.
"Go sit back down," she hissed in a low, sharp tone, trying to maintain control.
He shook his head slowly, lips curved in that sly smile of his. "Nah," he replied, his hand slipping around her waist and gripping her thick ass firmly. The sudden pressure made her shiver, a warm blush spreading across her cheeks.
Her fingers froze mid-motion on the sponge, the soapy water dripping between them, but she didn't pull away. The intimate heat of his hand pressed against her made her pulse quicken.
Smack!
He gave her ass a sharp, playful slap. A startled, breathy moan slipped from her lips before she could suppress it. Her head whipped toward him, eyes wide, flushed with embarrassnt and sothing else she couldn't quite na.
Izuku, anwhile, was impossibly calm, smiling innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed the teasing, daring edge to his actions.
Mitsuki's heart raced as she t his gaze, caught between scolding him and the undeniable thrill of his touch. The steam from the sink curled around them, the scent of warm soap and her own subtle perfu hanging in the air, making the mont feel charged and impossibly intimate.
Izuku's hand lingered on her ass, his fingers kneading slowly, deliberately, just enough to make her shiver.
"Mm… careful, Izuku," she whispered, her voice low, almost a warning, but the tremor betrayed her excitent.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing the side of her neck, the heat of his breath sending goosebumps across her skin. "Careful? Or are you trying to tell you like it?" he murmured, teasing, his thumb now slowly tracing the curve of her hip, pressing against the soft fabric of her pants.
Mitsuki's breath hitched, a soft moan escaping despite her efforts to sound stern. She twisted slightly, trying to focus on the dishes, but every touch, every brush of his fingers against her made it impossible to think clearly.
Izuku smirked, sensing her weakening resolve. "You know… Masaru has no idea what's happening right behind him," he whispered, brushing a fingertip along the small of her back, tilting her just enough to make her sway.
Her hands faltered on the sponge, water dripping, soap sliding over her fingers, but she didn't pull away. "Izuku… stop teasing," she breathed, though the flush creeping up her neck and the heat pooling in her stomach told him otherwise.
He chuckled softly, letting his hand slide just lower, grazing the curve of her lower back, fingertips pressing ever so slightly against the sensitive skin above her pants. "Hmm… you're way too easy to fluster," he said, lips brushing her ear now, sending a shiver straight to her core.
Mitsuki gasped, biting her lip, trying to hide the tremor in her legs. "I… I'm washing… dishes," she stamred, though her words were weak and unconvincing.
Izuku's grin widened, enjoying the thrill of teasing her without crossing the line—yet. "Sure… but you're not washing anything right now, are you?" His hand pressed more firmly, just enough to make her back arch slightly under his touch.
She exhaled shakily, heat radiating through her body, the mixture of guilt, excitent, and desire clouding her thoughts. "I… I…" Her words died in her throat, the teasing pressure and his proximity rendering her speechless.
Izuku pulled back just slightly, letting her catch her breath, his eyes locking onto hers, the playful glint in his gaze daring her to react. "Relax, Mitsuki… or I'll have to keep reminding you exactly how much fun I can make this," he whispered, letting his hand hover teasingly over her hip, never fully retreating.
She shivered again, a mix of anticipation and exasperation, knowing full well she was completely at his rcy—but unable to stop the heat rising inside her.
TO BE CONTINUED
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