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Tug-of-War	By : thewriterwhocameinfromthecold Category: +G to L > Love Hina Views: 57788 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina or it's associated characters. I am not profiting off this work in any way.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
They were on the couch with her head in his lap when he tried to open the champagne bottle.
“Don’t pop it off, just twist it gently,” she told him with eyes closed.
He obeyed and the cork came off with a small pop. He beamed. Not a drop wasted. She looked up at him with wide jaws and smiling eyes. He poured champagne into her waiting mouth and took a swig for himself. It was his first time drinking champagne and he found he liked it. Especially the way the bubbles tickled his tongue.
“What is that stuff over there?” he asked when they’d drunk half the bottle.
Amalla followed his gaze to the decanter sitting on the bar.
“We call it Wedding Wine. In my country it is given to a bride and groom on their wedding night.”
“So why do you have it?”
Amalla smirked. “Privilege of rank.”
“Why pour so little the second time?”
“While the effect ebbs and flows, the more of it you drink, the more intense the effect.” She snuggled into his lap as if to go asleep; but then a wicked smile crossed her face. “Hey, want to see what happens if we drink it all?” she asked sitting up.
Keitaro shrank away, falling off the couch. “Oh, no! No way!”
But Amalla had already leapt over the couch to grab the decanter. “Last call, lover boy,” she sang as she danced around the couch.
Keitaro took off in a blind run for the door – losing his towel in the process – but Amalla just blocked the front door, and he made a futile dash down the hall. He slid to a stop in the bedroom. Why did his instincts always take him to the worst possible outcomes? He yelped as Amalla slammed the door shut.
“Admit it, Four-eyes,” she said, dropping her own towel, “we both want this.”
She stalked her prey until he fell back against the canopy bed and onto the shimmery red duvet. Seizing her opportunity, she jumped onto his chest and forced the bottle to his lips. He swallowed on reflex the moment the liquor hit his throat. It wasn’t long until that familiar warmth spread through him, and he began to drink willingly.
“Good boy,” Amalla cooed when half the bottle was gone. Her voice seemed to be coming from far away.
She gave the bottle a naughty grin and swallowed down the rest.
“Mm, Good. Doesn’t feel any…Whoa.”
Amalla collapsed next to Keitaro just as it began to hit him. The burning was ten times worse now. His cock was the hardest it had ever been, bright red, precum weeping from the tip. Just moving made the feeling even worse. If he didn’t get some relief, he thought he’d be burned alive.
“Four-eyes, help me…”
Keitaro groaned as he rolled over and the flames grew. Beside him, Amalla was panting, bathed in sweat, her thighs slick, and eyes wide with panic and lust. When he reached out to touch her shoulder, he recoiled as she let out a shriek and a wave of pleasure hit him so hard that his vision started to blur. He collapsed against the bed and watched as Amalla contracted into a shuddering ball. Had he done that? Just with his hand? He propped himself up and blew an experimental breath across her shuddering back.
She nearly leapt off the bed with a shrill scream and landed on top of his chest. Keitaro’s eyes rolled as shocks of pleasure exploded everywhere she touched. Then their instinct took over. Amalla climbed on top of him with and clutched his face with shuddering hands as she kissed him. The kiss felt so good Keitaro thought he’d die; but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. He clutched her to him even as he almost felt his mind begin to slip away, and let out a primal howl when she grabbed his cock.
“I can take it,” she said. “I need it.”
Keitaro nodded and flipped her onto her back. She screamed into his neck as he entered her in one stroke. Keitaro’s arms gave way. Entering her felt like the best part of every orgasm he’d ever had, but still his need raged unabated. Amalla wrapped her legs around his hips and she clutched at his face, staring up at him with feverish eyes.
“I…” She was slurring. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
Her hips thrust against his and he responded in kind. The feeling was so powerful, he thought he’d go mad, but he kept moving as they stared deep into each other’s eyes in hopes of clinging to sanity. The bed spread became soaked with sweat and Amalla’s juices as they rutted like wild animals, desperate for relief or death by pleasure, which ever came first.
Tears began to stream down the side of Amalla’s face. “More, please, please!” She reached between them to pinch her nipples, and Keitaro growled as he felt her slick channel tighten around him.
His control was slipping. If they didn’t find release soon, well he had no idea what would happen. He could hardly think as it was. What could he do? Then some small remnant of his sanity kicked in, and he reached down in one last desperate gambit to rub her clit in time with his thrusts. Amalla’s pussy became impossibly tight as she babbled and wailed in language Keitaro had never heard. As she tightened, he could feel a change. Something beyond the explosions of out of control pleasure, a building sensation that felt greater than anything he’d ever felt before. He was almost afraid that it would kill them when it hit, and that in the morning the concierge would find their spent bodies with looks of ecstasy frozen on their faces.
But fearful as he was, his body was moving on its own now. The animal held the driver’s seat and wouldn’t give it up until that build-up exploded. It was so close, but stayed just out of reach. Then Amalla raked her nails across his back and the explosion came. They screamed into each other’s mouths as they came over and over again. Amalla’s pussy overflowed as jet after jet of hot seed filled her. Keitaro felt like he’d been hit by a train as every new wave knocked him further into a stupor. He was still coming when his legs and arms gave out. He collapsed against Amalla, lost in her own world mewling as orgasm rocked her body; and then he blacked out.
He awoke to an empty bed and the sound of music. Despite feeling doubly spent, he forced himself upright and followed the music out to the living room. He was surprised to see that it was still dark out. The cold night air, blowing in from the open balcony, soothed his exhausted body. Amalla stood on the balcony, fully dressed once more. In her hands was a small wooden flute. Her eyes were closed as she played a melancholy tune that seemed almost alien for so wild a girl. Keitaro leaned against the doorway and listened until she was finished. She stood for a long time, eyes still closed and flute still poised. Keitaro thought she might begin a new song, but she lowered the instrument with a sigh and turned to him. She gave him a sad smile.
“You look so much like him.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “But now it’s time to wake up.”
“Hey, buddy wake up!”
Keitaro groaned as he felt someone shove him.
“Come on buddy, you can’t sleep here.”
The voice brooked no argument, so Keitaro opened his eyes and looked up to see a man in uniform staring down at him.
Keitaro croaked. “Where am I?” He gasped and made to cover himself only to discover that he was fully dressed.
The man glared down at him. “I always get stuck with the drunks. Look pal, I don’t care how much you’ve had. You can’t sleep on the train.”
Train? Keitaro looked around. It was true: somehow he had ended on some sort of train. But how had he gotten here?
“Where am I” he repeated.
“Hinata Station,” the man replied. “Would you get moving?”
Keitaro stood up and looked around. Had Amalla brought him here? How? And how had she done it without his knowing?
“Did you see a girl with me?”
The man rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? Just go home.”
Cowed, Keitaro shuffled off the train and on to the platform. He looked around the station. It wasn’t possible, and yet it was. He pulled at the side of his collar and looked at his shoulder. He gasped. The bruise, the one from when Amalla had bitten him, wasn’t there. He ran a hand over his back. The scratches weren’t there either. He raced to the station bathroom and looked himself in the mirror. He looked the same as when he had left Hinata that evening. No bruise, no scratches, no nothing.
Could it have been a dream? He shook his head. No, it had felt too real to be a dream. But then what?
It was dawn when he returned to Hinata House. As he approached the main stairs, he saw Haruka opening up her shop for the early morning.
“You look like hell,” she said when she spotted him. “Late night?”
“Weird one.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Have you ever woken up somewhere other than where you fell asleep?”
A look of alarm flickered across Haruka’s face. “I think you’d better come in and tell me.”
So he went in and explained everything as she made him a cup of tea. He kept the details of the hotel room to himself. Nothing, not even this gnawing mystery would make him divulge something like that to his aunt. Once he was done, she lit a cigarette and gave the table a pensive look.
“Drink your tea.”
“What do you think happened?”
She shrugged.
“It can’t have been a dream.”
“I didn’t say it was a dream. I just don’t know what it was.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Haruka patted Keitaro on the head. “Look, if you’re worried, go see a doctor. In the meantime you should probably get some sleep. Maybe you’ll see her in your dreams again, and then you’ll know.”
“All right. Good night Auntie. Ow!”
“Just Haruka, remember?”
“Right.”
Haruka stubbed out her cigarette and followed him outside. “Who knows,” she said as she flipped her sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, “Maybe you ran into a real kitsune.”
Keitaro froze. “What?”
“A kitsune spirit. Like in those stories Granny used to tell you.”
Keitaro said nothing. Then he began to snicker.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I just think you might be right.”
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Tug-of-War