...
Early the next morning, Lucian was woken by the heat.
It was hard to imagine being roused by warmth in a December dawn.
But once he lifted the blanket and saw Haru Urara glued to him inside, it made perfect sense.
Watching her sleep peacefully, Lucian's playful side emerged; he conducted a little experiment.
He slowly moved her hand away and slipped out of the covers, waiting quietly for her reaction.
Losing his embrace, Haru Urara wrinkled her nose uncomfortably, then struggled to open her eyes.
Clearly exhausted, yet her movements were swift—she hugged him again and drifted back to sleep.
Lucian repeated the trick, escaping once more and this time rolling her to the side with the blanket.
But seconds later, Haru Urara woke again, pouncing into his arms and murmuring hoarsely: "Hug… need Trainer's hug."
Lucian stopped teasing and patted her back. "Urara, time to get up."
"No… want to hold Trainer and sleep more." Her voice grew fainter, raspy like footsteps on crisp yellow leaves, as if she'd nod off any second.
"Fine, sleep a bit longer." Lucian couldn't fall back asleep; he shifted up against the headboard and checked his phone.
"Trainer…" Haru Urara tugged his shirt, head on his chest, sprawling over him like a cradle.
They were only staying one night in Kochi, so Lucian hadn't brought extra clothes.
Haru Urara's two athletic sets—one drenched in race sweat, the other soaked in the shower.
Her fingers traced lazy circles on his bare skin, slipping under the open collar of his shirt, warm breath ghosting his neck. "Trainer… lying like this is uncomfortable." Eyes still closed, she undid the buttons at his chest by feel. "Much better now…"
The air thickened; her palms pressed flat against him, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat quicken under her touch.
"Trainer… let Urara sleep just a little more, okay?" She lifted her head, met his gaze, then slid smooth arms around his neck.
Sniff sniff… her nose filled with Trainer's scent—pure bliss.
...
Fully rested, Haru Urara regained her energy.
But waking to an empty bedside, she called anxiously: "Trainer, where are you?"
"Awake?" Lucian placed the freshly dried clothes on the bed. "Put these on—I've been blow-drying all morning."
The inn had no iron, but a hairdryer worked.
"Trainer dress me."
"So spoiled?" Lucian picked up the clothes—he sometimes felt like he was raising a daughter.
Haru Urara stretched her arms. "Pants too."
"These two you do yourself—I dried them forever." Lucian pinched her cheeks, unable to let go. "And I need to cook."
"Cook!?"
"Forgot? Last night I extended our stay till evening."
"But the clothes are dry now?"
"Guess Urara doesn't want another afternoon with Trainer—I'll check out now~"
Lucian pretended to rise; Haru Urara grabbed his hem, hugging his waist. "No no no—who said that? Urara's been looking forward to it forever."
Lucian glanced back. "Put your pants on first."
"Then Trainer can't check out."
"Got it—the delivery just brought ingredients. Cooking now."
"Okay~" Haru Urara released his waist, letting him go.
...
Lettuce hit the pan, sizzling.
Haru Urara padded over in slippers, hugging Lucian from behind as he cooked. "Trainer~"
Focused on cooking, Lucian hadn't heard her approach. "Almost ready—not that fast."
"Mm, I know~"
"Wish we could live together like this forever."
"No." Lucian blurted instinctively.
"Why? Doesn't Trainer want to live with Urara?"
"Of course not." How could he object to cohabitation? But certain people would—and he dared not voice his opinion around them.
"Then why?"
"Because…" Lucian's eyes darted, finding an excuse. "Urara's still at Tracen Academy—bad influence."
"But last night when Trainer held Urara like a kid, why no thought then…"
"No holding next time."
"No!" Haru Urara buried her face shyly. "Urara likes that Trainer…"
She squeezed in front of him. "Trainer, after I graduate, can we live together?"
"Then… probably yes."
"Hehe, great~"
Lucian sighed helplessly. "Go to the living room—call you when done."
"No—Urara wants to stay with Trainer."
Her body pressed flush against his, heat radiating through thin fabric; her hands slid up his back, fingers curling into his shirt.
"Urara, I can't cook like this."
"Trainer, Urara wants to eat a little later."
The pan… perfect timing for simmering.
Lucian capped the lid, dipped his head, and captured Haru Urara's lips.
Their kiss deepened instantly—soft, urgent, tasting of morning sweetness and lingering sleep. His hands framed her face, thumbs stroking her flushed cheeks as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
"Trainer…" she breathed against his mouth, voice trembling with need. The stove's low flame mirrored the heat building between them.
He lifted her onto the counter, her legs wrapping his waist; the lettuce wilted forgotten in the pan, steam fogging the glass lid like their ragged breaths.
Haru Urara's hands roamed under his shirt, nails grazing his spine, drawing a low moan from her throat. "Mmm… Trainer, touch me…"
Lucian obliged, palms sliding up her sides, pushing fabric aside; her skin was fever-hot, arching into him. "Like this?" he murmured, lips trailing her neck, nipping the sensitive spot below her ear.
"Ahh… yes, right there…" She gasped, hips rolling against him, the friction sparking moans that echoed the sizzle behind them. "Don't stop… please…"
His mouth found hers again, swallowing her pleas; one hand cupped her breast, thumb circling until she whimpered, the other gripping her thigh, pulling her impossibly closer. "You're so soft… so warm…"
"Trainer… I need more…" Her voice broke on a moan as his fingers teased lower, stroking through damp fabric; she bucked, head falling back, exposing her throat to his hungry kisses. "Oh… ahh… feels so good…"
The vegetables stewed, softening in the broth—much like her, melting under his touch, colors bleeding into decadent richness.
Until their lips parted, breathless and swollen.
Lucian always cooked seriously; he knew exactly when dishes were ready.
The pan needed about ten minutes of simmering.
But how long until this "dish" before him softened just as perfectly?
He wasn't sure.
His hands explored further, slipping beneath her waistband; she moaned louder, thighs clenching around him. "Trainer… inside… please…"
Fingers delved, curling just right; her cries filled the kitchen, sweet and desperate. "Yes… ahh… deeper…"
He stroked rhythmically, mouth on her collarbone, marking her with gentle bites. "Come for me, Urara…"
Her body tensed, then shattered—moans peaking as she clung to him, trembling through waves of pleasure.
...
...