Nightbloom

“Hi, baby!”

Pet names are a turn-off for you, if you were to be honest. They just feel forced. You’ve always had the notion that couples who do that are simply doing so for show. It’s easy to assume that when all your friends started to get their own girlfriends at an early age, and paraded it around you like a damned posy. Hi, babe! No, babe! Thanks, love! Your ears burned with annoyance (and maybe with a little awkward jealousy) everytime.

The tables have turned over the years, though, all because of Sakura. With her, it’s…. different. It feels different.

You catch the sweet nicknames slipping from your mouth whenever you’re with her without even consciously deciding to say them beforehand. It feels natural. Easy. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It feels real.

Your girlfriend—(oh wait, fiancé, you correct yourself, with much pleasure as you glance at the gold engagement ring around her ring finger)—is a beauty even through a screen and with the relative darkness of her apartment. You let your eyes take pleasure in observing the color like that of dark honey following the curls of her hair, the slope of her perfect nose, and her round, happy eyes. Now you understand how her fans fell in love with her, although most have never met her.

Sakura smiles that perfect first-love smile of hers. She’s lying on her stomach in bed. One of her hands is left to play alone with the white duvet because the other is raising a pointer against her lips. “Shhh, some stalkers might be listening. You know how it is with crazy fans these days.”

You pout exaggeratedly, although you weren’t hurt by her reason. It’s perfectly rational. Too many cases of celebrity doxxing in this age by people with misplaced grudges. You don’t want to accidentally ruin Sakura’s reputation when her career is at its peak.

“Awww, are you ashamed of me, Saku-chan?” you ask. You watch her giggling reaction, even when the halls of the building start to curve. It doesn’t matter; you know the building map by heart. “‘Le Sserafim Sakura Caught with Loser and Lesser Boyfriend’! Oh, just imagine the headlines.”

Sakura’s eyebrows knot together then release their tension immediately, the way they do when she gets trapped in a bout of laughter. She slams her hands on the mattress in mock frustration. “Okay, first of all, you’re my fiancè. And second, of course you’re not a loser! You know I love you more than my entire career. You are more important than it—or anything else.”

You roll your eyes playfully and theatrically look away to hide the red in your cheeks. You don’t know how you become such a schoolgirl in love when Sakura says such cute things. One “I love you” from her, and you’re a blushing mess. Oh, and don’t forget “But pleaaaseee, oppa!”. God, that just ruins you.

But you can’t exactly put all the blame on yourself. In the dynamic of your relationship, Sakura is the better one with her words. That is why she’s Le Sserafim’s co-leader, after all, standing beside Kim Chaewon when she needs it. Her intelligence and natural charisma are one-of-a-kind talents by themselves.

“Oh, stop the sweet nothings.”

You get inside the elevator the moment its gray metal doors part. You arrived here just in time. What’s even more perfect is that you’re alone, meaning you can talk to Sakura freely without worrying about your relationship being found out.

The mini screen just below the mirror ceiling spells out “10” in red, cyber font. Only nine floors to go and you’re at your destination. Somehow the font reminds you of the one in Æspa’s Girls music video. Next level.

You laugh at your own pun. Sakura would pretend to throw up if you said it to her. You would have liked to do that, anyway, but you do not want to hint at then potentially ruin the surprise you have for her.

“How’s everything going, Kkura? With that situation and all?”

Sakura knows what you mean by the stressed word, and her features immediately show a sudden onset stress of their own. The smile has disappeared from her face. Sakura lets out a loud sigh and shakes her head, resting her temple against her propped hand.

“Oh god, baby, it’s all so fucking awful,” she complains. “I don’t even know how Chaewon deals with it. We all had a meeting together, in the… the… what’s the Korean word for that again? The goddamned pri—”

That’s where your use comes in as a trilingual boyfriend. “Private room? The private meeting room?” you pipe in.

“Yeah! That’s what it is. It’s only for super important meetings, like only the CEO and his colleagues go there. But he called for us in there, and said that her contract was exterminated.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? But why did they only do that now?”

“I really don’t get it. It’s an exclusive contract. It’s easier to end it more than people think. But they waited for…” Sakura shakes her head, sighing heavily. “No, I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

No matter how angry she gets, Sakura knows when to keep herself in check. That’s how she makes sure to never start spewing too much emotion-slurred nonsense. It’s a remarkable trait of hers, but sometimes you wish that she expresses her feelings more, without the fear of hurting anyone else’s.

Out of all the people in this world, Miyawaki Sakura deserves the freedom to her own thoughts and emotions the most. And you stand by that.

“No, no, it’s perfectly reasonable,” you console her. Dash a look at the mini screen again—12th floor—before you return your focus to your fiancé. “I mean, you and Chaewon worked so hard for this. You have the right to be angry more than anyone else. I mean, I would be, too.”

Over the past few weeks, after much questioning, Sakura had hesitantly expressed her concerns to you about the conflicts in the group caused by the scandals her co-member had. It turned out that she had bullied quite a number of people during her middle school days, and they are finally starting to speak up. Worst of all, Hybe is doing a shitty job of lying about it. For a big company, they are sadly incompetent.

It was even more painful for her since the both of you were apart. She was in the final stages of preparation for her debut, so she had to commit a lot of time for practice. “I want to show people a better Miyawaki Sakura,” she had once stressed to you. “The one who grew stronger and improved in all aspects.”

“And they will see that woman the moment you get on stage” was your reply. “Just trust me. They will be so proud of you.”

You weren’t able to console her and give advice in person, so you had resorted to text messages reminding her to eat and to rest. You hoped that your love was clear as glass through the little things you do, even if it was mostly virtual.

Now that the contract is invalid, Sakura is in a confusing state of relief and panic. It’s an odd feeling to have both positive and negative emotions, two polar opposite senses, merge together like that. And it isn’t a pretty thing to feel at all, you are sure of that. You’ve seen the way it affected her—the five anxious voice messages sent to you in a span of three minutes, her lack of appetite, and the guilt. The guilt of feeling happy now that her member was kicked out, even if she had wronged her in the first place.

“I’m so fucking scared, babe,” says Sakura sadly. She runs her fingers through her hair, then props her chin back on the center of her palm. “I have everything I dreamed of, but having it is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Don’t stress it too much. It’s over, and people will still support you. And so will the girls. How are they treating the situation?”

“Oh, Chaewon was very formal about it, but you can tell part of her was happy it was over. Kazuha was an angel to her, as she usually is. Yunjin took it a little harsher.”

You smile. Yunjin is the feistiest out of the five. She was on Produce 48 with Sakura, and towers over her like the animal she is often associated with: a giraffe. Sakura likes to retell her funny moments to you, and even introduced her to you once. It was interesting, to say the least:

“He’s just a friend, Yunjin,” Sakura had purposefully misinformed her, when Yunjin asked about you. Even around her members, she still had to keep it on the hush, so you nodded along with her.

Yunjin had looked at Sakura, back at you again, then at the arm you had wrapped around Sakura’s waist. She raised both of her dark eyebrows amusedly and said, “Good fucking luck with that much denial.”

Now you gaze at Sakura’s stressed face, and think of how much she’s been through. From giving her all in the Japanese industry, to travelling to Korea to pursue bigger opportunities, and now: with a beauty line of her own, ambassadors for many respected brands, and the center of K-pop’s rising star group. Sakura is a visionary; she writes an ideal future in her mind and works hard to make it come to life. In spite of the mess of the scandal and the disbandment of IZ*ONE, she is still standing strong, if not stronger than ever.

You count off the floors left in your head. 13. 14. 15. Should you reveal your big surprise now? Probably. But what if it’s mediocre to her? Or disappointing? Maybe you should have bought her more than ice cream and got an expensive bag for her instead, just like her brands do.

But you aren’t a brand. You’re her fiancé. A non-celebrity one who doesn’t exactly have that much wealth in life compared to the more handsome drama actors and famous male idols. You’re just… a guy. Some lame, unknown guy.

And Sakura is… well, everything. She’s pretty, she’s kind, and worked hard for everything she has now. She’s more successful than you and probably two classes higher. Maybe she’ll become used to the wealthier things in life, and find your little gifts the way they are: little.

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache anxiously. You want to make Sakura happy. Will just you succeed in doing that by simply being there?

“Well, if it makes you feel better….” you begin, tapping your foot on the smooth floor of the elevator.

“Yes?” Sakura’s big eyes show a new curiosity.

17. 18… 19! “I—I have a surprise for you.”

Sakura’s adorable face scrunches up in confusion. She spends her time thinking while you use it to quickly pace to her apartment once the elevator doors open. The fragrant scent of the building fills your nostrils.

“Oppa?” Sakura frowns. “Is this another one of your pranks? 'Cause I’m not falling for it.”

You smile. “No, Sakura, I’m not joking.”

“Prove it.”

Her response is the key to the surprise. You walk faster until the familiar dark door with the numbers “720” comes in your path. You’ve only been away for weeks yet her door is already scratched. You suppose it’s the doing of one of the girls’ dogs. The claw prints are harshly imprinted, almost creating a worrying hole. Remind yourself to ask her about what happened to it and offer to fix it for her.

You give the wood three quick knocks. “Open the door and see for yourself,” you answer simply.

In the screen, Sakura turns back to gaze at it. “Wait, babe, I’ll call you back. Someone’s at the…”

The realization takes a while to settle in. She has obviously caught the coincidences, and is now aware that something odd is going on. But then she peers at you in the video call more closely, and catches the familiar color of the paint on the wall in your background and the same echoes on the door.

Her jaw drops.

She quickly drops the call too and throws the door open. Now, you are seeing her in the flesh. Miyawaki Sakura as she is, the real her.

Her first instinct is to squeal.

Sakura jumps up and down and leaps at you. You almost drop the ice cream pints as you seal your arms around her, deafening her screams of joy into your sweater.

The smile settles back in your face. You did it.

“Oppaaa, you clever little sneak!” Sakura scolds you lovingly. She encases the sides of your face with her hands and kisses you all over.

“Hello to you, too, Saku-chan,” you tell her amusedly. The feeling of her lips on your skin is something that you missed more than you thought. “I missed you.”

Sakura gives you a final kiss on your mouth with a large, cheeky smile. “Of course you did.”

“You’re right. Biggest understatement of the year, next to the headlines that are always trending: 'Sakura is so pretty’, 'Sakura is so hardworking’, and 'Sa—”

“You’re such a jerk!”

In a fit of giggles, Sakura pushes you down to her bed. To show she means no harm, she climbs on top of you and showers you with so many kisses that you’re breathless. It starts out on your nose, then descends to your chin, and spreads on every inch of your face. She roughly kisses your cheeks and forehead. Her chapstick lightly stains your skin, but that’s no big matter. They smell as good as they taste, and you learned that the best way possible.

Wink.

You allow her to kiss you as many times as she likes, one for every cursed second you weren’t together. And it feels so euphoric, so good to have someone who loves you just as much as you love her. Who cares for you with the same inordinate amount you do for her.

“Her” is Miyawaki Sakura. And it was, is, and will always be her, unchanging and eternal. Not without pain, of course, but with a love that outweighs itqq.

“You missed me so much, too, don’t deny it,” you chide Sakura in that easy-going, teasing manner you two take on. Despite your relationship having turned up a notch all those years ago, the friendliness never went away. It was realizing that Sakura was the best friend you wanted to see beside you in bed everytime you wake up was how you came to the decision to propose to her.

“Fine, I‐I guess I did.” Sakura finally stops denying it. She rolls her eyes again. She does that so often with you that you’re surprised that her pupils have always gone back in their place.

She stops her kissing to hold you in her gaze. Her hand softly caresses the side of your face while she watches you grin at her from below. And you can’t stop thinking about how utterly beautiful she looks from this angle. Her eyes hold so much tenderness that it makes you feel weak. Her hair frames her pretty face so perfectly. Plus, she’s looking at you so prettily, (how can anyone look so beautiful just doing nothing?!). Fingertips in between her smiling lips, her slightly lowered eyelids, and even the way she flutters her eyelashes as she mutually observes you… you want to thank everything and everyone which caused and led up to the moment of you having the greatest opportunity to meet this beautiful girl with a heart of gold.

“Say it then,” you tell her.

“No. I don’t want to inflate that pathetic ego of yours any further.”

“Come on, Saku-chan,” you plead. You flash her a pout that would have looked good on anyone excepting you and try to mimic the way she flutters her eyelashes. “Please? For me?”

“Alright, fine. I missed… y-you—”

Perfect timing to slowly return the kisses she smothered you with. Lift yourself in order to press your lips to the skin below her mouth. Sakura stops speaking in surprise, but she gasps a little when you kiss her on the mouth firmly. It’s such an adorable sound, a whimpery one, that you kiss her again in hopes of hearing a repetition of it.

No, you do not hear it again. But instead, you are granted an even better sound: a soft moan.

Sakura is truly like a cat; she leans the side of her face heavily against your hand, her quiet words of gratification coming out as sexy purrs instead of at the volume she intended for them. Your thumb stops at her bottom lip, playing with it, marvelling at the softness beneath the gloss.

You kiss her again. And again. And again.

“Oh god.” Sakura takes a breather, pausing in the middle of the make-out session. She gives you an amused look despite her messy hair and flushed cheeks. “You just came here and we’re already gonna have sex?”

“Who said we’re gonna have sex?”

“Well, for one, your dick,” Sakura fires back wittily. Her hand cups your obvious bulge. You shudder in pleasure. “And your fingers in my mouth.” She sucks on them sensually, with her eyes remaining on you, making your heart skip a beat or two. “If you want to fuck me, you can just say it, you know.”

You mumble out a quiet curse. Sakura starts to move her body against yours. It’s a mind-numbing situation, so much that Sakura suggestively feeling your bulge and her tight small body moving sensually is a wary dream. Not to mention how good she looks in the oversized shirt she borrowed from you, even if it is safely casual. Sakura knows who and what she is, and she isn’t one to slack in using it to her advantage.

Well, it was you who initiated anyway. And now you feel warm; Sakura is still performing her advances towards you, only now with a bit more determination. She straddles your throbbing erection daringly, so that it’s directly pressed to her center, and you can feel how wet she is with just an upwards shift.

“Fuck, Kkura,” you groan a little. It’s embarrassing how hot you feel right now. Your clothes aren’t even off yet!

“I want it so bad right now, baby,” she complains softly. She grinds her hips to and fro, lightly bouncing as if she were actually riding you. “Do you know how many times I wanted to masturbate in the dorms, but I couldn’t because of all the practices? Fuck, I can’t even count it on my fingers.”

You envision a sexually frustrated Sakura and become even more so yourself. The pictures running through your mind right now, of her rubbing her legs together as she practices to hold herself back, are anything but holy. “Have at it, then,” you say.

“But…”

“What?”

“What about the ice cream?” Sakura asks.

You raise your eyebrows, then glance at the direction where Sakura’s pointer is. Oh, right, the two pints still stand on the computer table where you unconsciously left them. Chocolate and strawberry, with your names in marker written on the lids. Sakura’s is written with a “<3” at the end.

“Should we put them in the fridge?” Sakura asks.

Your mind strays a little too far that the smile you make is purely impulsive lust. “No, I have a better idea.”

You flip the positions as fast as lightning. The pillows and mattress soften her fall. Give her one quick “I’ll be back” kiss then collect the strawberry ice cream pint. The lid easily slides off. It has a small spoon taped beneath it, which you take as well.

You lift Sakura’s shirt over her head. She helps you out, curious to see what you’d do. Then—

“Ohhhh, it’s so cold.”

Sakura tears at the blankets and sighs loudly. Strawberry ice cream paints her breasts. The cream covers her equally pink nipples and the roundness of her tits. And you have to admit that you’re a genius with this idea. Sakura looks so hot lewdly gasping, with her painfully erect nipples topped with ice cream and her stomach twitching under your kisses.

You can’t hold back anymore. You dive into her breasts. Your lips latch onto her nipples and suck on them with gusto. As expected, the ice cream is delicious, but the thing that exceeds its deliciousness is Sakura’s moans of pleasure. She circles one of her nipples, letting the ice cream swirl on it, as she realizes that, despite it being a little stranger than your usual love-making, it does feel good. More than good, in fact.

“Ahhh, fuck, more… you’re so good, baby!”

Her hand slides to the back of your head and clings to your hair. You lick her breast until your saliva has replaced the ice cream spread on the nipple. It’s red and sore from your suckling, the same state the second boob is about to be subject to.

You squeeze the cute little tit, cleverly taking advantage of how sensitive Sakura’s bosom is. She’s sure to be soaked right now; she’s sighing heavily, pretty mouth wide open and her eyes closed. So she doesn’t see how you lean down very carefully, almost like you were trying not to be caught. How you playfully blow on the sensitive nipple, how you lean in and absolutely ravage it.

She’s a sakura cake you can never get enough of. You are high on her sugar, yet you consume of her like she was made from a recipe too excellent for anyone to know. Take frequent licks and sucks at her tits, then taste the sugar on her stomach, while she finds herself addicted to the softness of your mouth.

And the hardness of your cock, too. Soon.

You’ll escalate there, you know that. You just have to ease Sakura there with perfect timing.

She has been on the bed for so long, arms and legs spread apart, until her head tips upwards. “Hey….” Sakura pouts at you adorably. “I want some ice cream too.”

“Sure.” Spoon some of the strawberry delicacy in her mouth. She accepts it gladly. “And I think your thighs want some too, hm?”

“Heyyy, not on the bed- ohhh!”

The milky ice cream drips on her thighs. You quickly drop to your knees and lick the drops off before they can stain the bed. Sakura’s thighs quiver with pleasure. Curse the shorts for still being on her so you can’t eat her out.

“G-god, babe,” Sakura pants. “That felt good but… not on the bed. We all know who does most of the laundry.”

“Tsk, fine.”

Another spoon of ice cream ends up in Sakura’s mouth. You lift her up and kiss her. Her mouth still tastes of ice cream. You let your feet carry her to the kitchen while your mouth busily makes out with Sakura’s. She’s moaning, grabbing the sides of your face and at your shirt, tugging at its fabric. It’s like she’s expecting that just one forceful tug can tear it off you, just showing how desperate she is for your touch.

Mount her on the clear kitchen counter. She helps you wriggle off her shorts and unbutton your top. Her hands are messy and uncoordinated, but she truly wants to be the one to give your naked upper body a grand reveal. So, you patiently let her. You know it’s the small things like that which make her happy.

Come to think of it, why did you ever doubt about the ice cream knowing Sakura will appreciate any gift? Even with the knowledge that you will forever be more than enough for her, your heart still looks down on your own efforts and self. Your playful attitude is all just a façade.

But she reminds you of your own worth. You see the way her eyes sparkle at your broad shoulders and stomach, and feel the loosening of her tense figure when she melts in your arms. You make her feel safe. Happy. Comfortable. Any adjective in the world that is adjacent to the word “home.”

Her home is in your arms. Well, no, not exactly; her home is you.

Vice versa, too, or reverse. Whatever. But in simpler words, it’s also the other way around; your home is her.

And what bliss such a beautiful home can give someone. The medium-sized spoon dripping of the ice cream is slipped in between your pair of lips and Sakura’s own. You kiss with the utensil in between, and it teaches you to savor the slight touch of her tiers and the sweet milky ice cream from her equally delicious tongue. It’s like you’re making out with the spoon instead of her, but the two of you know how hot this is making both sides feel, so you go on. No harm in good things, after all.

Withdraw the spoon to scoop more of the ice cream in its mouth. It pours onto Sakura’s bare thighs like a pink waterfall. Sakura reacts with a surprised “Mmph! S-so cold! It’s all over me!”

“Let me clean it up, then,” you offer charmingly.

Your princess allows you to. Your tongue connects with her thighs and catches the dripping strawberry expertly. Her gasp trembles with pleasure and surprise, and you calm her down with a quick kiss on the inner sides, but not slow enough to miss the drop of ice cream on the other thigh. You give it the same loving treatment as you caress the unkissed one, occasionally letting your hand grip and spank Sakura’s butt. The flesh ripples beneath your palm.

“Please just eat me, baby,” Sakura pleads. “Make me feel good.”

You can never withhold anything from her. You give in, and find that her pussy is even more delicious than the ice cream. It’s thoroughly wet, and you have to pull her closer to your mouth to prevent any drop from escaping your lips. But the gush of juices is inevitable when you draw it out by sucking on her “button.” Sakura lifts her hips gladly and grinds her center more in your mouth.

“Oh god, yes, please. Yes, please please please, oppa, thank you! ”

It amuses you how her orgasm doesn’t take away her manners. You lick sharply at her tightening walls to draw it out of her. Her sweet taste fills your mouth and makes your head dizzy so that you can think of nothing but Sakura mewling and whimpering on the counter because of you. Her scent is so alluring; you drive your tongue deeper so it invades your welcoming nostrils. Sakura screams in delight.

“God, yes!” Sakura’s fingers seal tighter around the edge of the counter. Her eyes are closed, and she’s mindlessly mumbling while your stressed eating continues. “Yes, thank you, baby. Please, please lick me like that… don’t stop…”

“Kkura-chan is so needy,” you taunt her lovingly. Draw yourself back from her vagina to take a breather, then kiss the pulsing nub just a little above her slit. “You must have really missed me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.” Sakura sighs at your loving kisses on her thighs and tiny stomach. There’s a seldom upward buck that occurs wheneber you graze your lips just right, which you just want to keep drawing out of her. She lies back and gives herself permission to enjoy your lips after your licking returns to her center. “So much. I kept watching porn on my days-off and reading your, ah, messages. I’d touch myself to them, too. But…”

“But what?”

“It wasn’t enough. Hmmmm.”

Sakura does all the work herself and uses your tongue to rub her clit on. She thoroughly enjoys you performing oral on her; every time is like her first. She’s always so sensitive, wet, and extremely needy. Your tongue could do the simplest dip inside her and she’d go ballistic. For example:

“ Ffffuck!” Sakura sobs needily. “I can’t take it anymore, babe. I need you. Inside me, I don’t know if I can bear without you again.”

“It’s alright. I’m here now, Sakura. We can do whatever you like.”

Her sob for you abolishes all plans to tease her more. Sakura is too precious to you; she has been quite lonely without you and another minute that goes without you joining her can and will make her go crazy. You know that since you’ve experienced it yourself. From the IZ*ONE hiatus and disbandment, to her months of long intense training after signing a contract with Hybe, you soon had a first-name basis with loneliness. And you aren’t going to inflict it on either of you now that you are together.

You stand up again and kiss Sakura passionately. Your arms tangle behind the other’s back as you try to remain close to her the best you can. Sakura loves tasting herself on your lips; she keeps pulling and pushing you in the midst of your liplocking, even moaning. But that’s probably because of your hands groping her ass. Your fingers seek to squeeze and slap their globes as hard as they can, which just make her juices pour more beneath her.

Your cock grinds against her lips. It slides between its wet folds thoroughly, already stimulating you and Sakura as if it were already in. Sakura gives you another rough kiss before she lies back, eyes glued to your sexes joining, as she wiggles her hips in response. Her beautiful eyes do the pleading; she wants you more than anything now, and it would be so cruel not to give in to her pretty self.

So, so cruel. Anyone who doesn’t give this beautiful and loving girl anything she likes is surely heartless, because here is Sakura, ready and waiting for you, turned into putty from your mouth and touch. Why leave her hanging? Why leave her unattended to?

So you give in. You give in completely. And it’s like divine revelation when you enter her, when the strictness of her walls closes around you for what seems like the first in the longest time and her sobbed pleads turn into a single sharp moan. Suddenly, you understand that you love Sakura more than you thought—for her hardworking attitude, her lips on your shoulder, her eyes directed to yours. For her everything. You realize now how much you wanted and missed her during her training months, and how you might not be able to stand another second without her.

Because she is Sakura. Miyawaki Sakura, the girl you love more than anything.

You make the most out of your time with her. You begin with a few soft pumps, setting the beginning of the ritual. Sakura whines in your neck happily. Despite the speed not being that rapid yet, she enjoys it. She enjoys you taking your sweet time with her, as if time were money and you were the wealthiest man in the world.

Her legs are curled firmly around your waist, reminding you to maintain the gentle pumps for now. You do, and find yourself taking pleasure in the softness of it all. Everyone wants a passionate, rough lovemaking when the doors are closed and the curtains are drawn. However, this relatively slow start isn’t too bad either. Maybe it is because you missed Sakura and do not want to arrive too early.

“Mmmm, God,” Sakura murmurs. Look to your left shoulder and notice that her eyes are fluttering closed. Wonder if that’s from sleepiness or the gratification. “That feels so good. You always, hm, treat me so nicely.”

You feel the pride making your smile wider than ever. You bask in it not because of the way you are able to pleasure her, but due to the fact that you make her happy and appreciated. The two things, when compared, can sound a little similar. But you swear on your life that there’s a large difference between being glad you are sexually capable and the pride from treating the girl you love with the kind she deserves: one that’s as sweet as ice cream.

That reminds you of the pints on the farther side of the counter. They are surely melted now, but you still want to try mixing them with sex. If Sakura is still up for it, obviously.

Try to keep your voice steady as you ask, “Still want to do the ice cream thing?”

Sakura’s pants take a while before giving way to her answer: “Yeah, sure.”

Take a moment to scoop ice cream in Sakura’s mouth. Before the milky substance drips away, you start sucking on her tongue. Sakura makes a surprised but welcoming moan. She grabs your head and pulls you in closer, encouraging you to continue. Your hot mouth drives her on and so do the steady thrusts of your hips.

“Fuck, that’s so hot!” Sakura pulls away with a sigh. “C-can you—can you go faster now, please?”

“By all means,” you say sweetly. Do so according to her needs, quickening the stamina of your drills and kissing along her jaw, neck and chest. After you finish, you hold her close and place a last one on her forehead.

Sakura trembles in your arms. Her hole tenses at the immediate evolution of the speed. She lets you do the work, allowing herself to receive rather than give like she always has, and only lets out the softest of sighs silenced by her lips pressed to your shoulder. Her nipples poke your own chest and swipe at your skin. Consider breaking the hug to give them deserved pinches, but decide to settle for the embrace the both of you are wrapped like presents in.

“You know I love you, right, Saku-chan?” you ask her. It isn’t a rhetorical inquiry; you actually ponder if she does know that you do more than anything. Angle your hips upwards to hit the all-too-familiar perfect spots, and she yelps.

“Hmm, fuck, I know.” She looks up at you, large eyes filled with love and pleasure, and rests her forehead against yours. “Do you know that I love you?”

You smile. It has been a long time since you have doubted that, and doing so won’t happen again. “Of course. Are you close?”

You seek to help her answer her question with swifter thrusts and gropes. You caress the curves of her butt and thighs, gently urging them to splay wider, and allowing yourself to drill harder. The force makes her release more than a series of sounds. They are borderline screams, and they could have rendered you deaf if you did not want to grasp each word they are stressed as.

“Yes! Fuck, God, yes!” shouts Sakura. And really, even without her clear declaration, you would have known. Her lower body is moving and trembling. She is clinging onto you as if she isn’t sure she can catch herself. More importantly, her moans are increasing and decreasing rapidly with both quantity and volume.

“Ah, I am, too, babe. Let’s g-get through it together, okay? Holy fuck, you’re tight.”

“Yes, please cum with me. I love you. I really, really love you. Hnnn, oh—!”

Sakura’s orgasm erases any doubt about the severity of her sexual frustration during training. For one, her wet core releases an abnormal amount of girl cum. Her legs trap you in between them and force you to keep the thrusts as deep and hard as possible. And her scream… you know you’ve really made her climax well when she cannot even stop herself from squealing in Japanese. You drain your own “ice cream” inside the premise of her pussy, knowing that if it were another occasion, she would have liked it in her mouth.

“Oh fuck, oppa,” Sakura whimpers. The heat is overwhelming. Her clit prickles and pulses with need as the tiny hole below it spews more cum. “I can’t take it, please, it’s too strong. It’s too—”

“Hey, it’s alright,” you say quickly, wrapping Sakura in a hug once more. The aftershock of her climax has become too rough for her to handle. Kiss her on her lips lovingly to bring her down from her high. “I’m here. It’s over.”

“Oh, it was so good, oppa,” she moans. She can feel your shaft softening inside her, and the oddly pleasurable sensation of you pulling its limp form out makes her squeeze involuntarily at its departing tip. “I haven’t cum like that in months. I can’t, it’s so…”

“It’s okay. Breathe. Calm down for me.”

Her walls trap your sensitive cockhead. Now you find yourself unable to calm down. You both have taken and released more than you thought you could. This was your breaking point as well as Sakura’s. Something has got to give.

“Kkura,” you whimper out. “Let’s take this to the bed? Lie down for a bit?”

“Mmm, huh? Sure.”

You guess this is the perfect time to practice your bridal-style carrying, for when you and Sakura finally seal for each other. She hums happily and sleepily when you dip her in your arms. Her honey-brown hair swings behind your forearm like a curtain. Maybe it is because the sex was already done, but your eyes automatically go to her beautiful face despite her body in its full naked glory. As you watch her tired eyes monitor your expressions and her pink lips stretch into a cute smile, you realize you wouldn’t want any other girl than her.

You lay her on her bed and smile back. “Let’s get you dressed up, yeah?”

“I don’t feel like it…” Sakura does her best puppy-eye look and pouts. “Can you do it for me, please?”

You already were planning to do it for her even before she asked. The sleeves find their way around her arms naturally. Soon, she’s as ready for bed as you are, dressed in a lilac nightdress with a small bow.

“Aren’t you going to… you know, clean up?” you ask, grinning a little. You have already gone to the washroom and found yourself a change of pajamas. You even cleaned up and put the remaining ice cream in the freezee. All the while, Sakura remained on the bed.

“Maybe later. It feels really good inside me.”

“Ugh, Kkura! TMI!” You cover your ears in mock disgust.

Sakura laughs and laughs till the joke loses its soul. You wouldn’t trade that beautiful laugh for anything else, though. Even if it’s for a better joke to move on. Love is patient like that.

It’s a little while until someone speaks. The blanket is already on top of both of you and Sakura is snuggled beside you like a cat. Her hands do most of the work in resembling paws; they look small and almost tiny under the hems of the sleeves.

She breaks the ice with a more serious tone. “I really, really missed you, you know,” she says softly.

You ponder that for a while, not because you’re unsure of your response or anything like that, but because you know how much you did, too. There were days lonelier than normal which drove your crazy. What could a text message left unanswered for two days mean? Was Sakura okay? Your worries were endless until you made the decision to visit her after months of it being impossible to even be done as a secret.

“So did I, babe.” You mean every word and every syllable that rolls off your tongue. “I love you, you know. I wish we could do this more.”

“What? Have sex?” Sakura inquires jokingly.

You, however, are serious. “No, I mean be together. I was always worried about you one way or another. I just wish we could run away together and leave all of this behind. I—I know it’s selfish, but—”

“I get it,” Sakura says solemnly. “It’s alright.”

Her last words before she drifts off to sleep makes you wonder even more. But there’s still dawn to look forward to in asking her about it.

One thing is clear, though: cherry blossoms are delicious with ice cream.