Something Missing

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers: kitty, BlueVixen2071, Chrono, Lee, sterlingwings900, Brook Lynne, The Digital Dragon, and Dark Alchemist. You guys are great. Special notes: SassieLassie988—I’m a little shy, and as I’ve been told, my sex tends to be a little “vanilla.” I’m working on spicing it up though. The difference between this fic and my last story is huge. I’m getting there—slowly, but I’m getting there. AnimeBabesGoneWildWithMe—I’m sorry you had surgery. Best wishes for a speedy recovery and as little pain as possible. nicky—Yay! I’m so happy you’re reading even though you’ve never seen Digimon. It means a lot.


Chapter Seven: Reminiscing, Taichi’s Way

God, that was just what she’d needed. Sora was starting to think she was going to go crazy if he didn’t fuck her. She was sick of her vibrator, desperate for the real thing. It had been better than she would have thought possible; she was going to be sore for days. And she still wanted more.

Taichi had fallen asleep immediately after climax, but she forgave him for that. He had spent the afternoon running around at practice, and then ended up with a second workout in bed. He had spared enough energy to pull out of her, but not to roll off her. He lay now, head nestled between her petite breasts, hands holding her shoulders, dozing. Sora was stroking his hair, a smile on her face. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but she felt a strange contentment.

One hand trailed down to a swelling in his cheek. It had mostly healed, but she could see that it had been bad. It wasn’t from a fall, or an accident; she didn’t need to be told how it had happened—she knew. When Yamato said he wouldn’t fight Taichi, he didn’t mean that he was above hitting him. Sora kissed her finger, then used it to trace his bruise in a feather-light touch.

“I know you mean well,” came a voice, “but that kind of hurts.”

Taichi raised his head to look at her, a sloppy grin on his face. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She smiled back. “Did you have a nice nap?”

He nodded, lowering his head to nuzzle her breasts. He planted soft, trailing kisses on her skin, stopping for a moment to give one nipple a gentle lick. Sora watched him in awe; a half hour ago, he’d been so rough—true, she’d goaded him into that, but it also seemed to be his natural sexual state. Where had this tender boy come from?

Taichi stopped for a moment, looking up at her with the biggest smile. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.” He seemed to think for a moment, then his face fell. “Why are you letting me do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you avoid me for two weeks, won’t take my calls, blow off our games. When we touch, you act like I’m disgusting and you can’t bear the contact—with two huge exceptions: that last Friday game we had and today. I’m confused, Sora. All of this happened so suddenly and . . . I can’t figure out why.”

Sora caressed his uninjured cheek. “You’re right, we need to talk.”

“Do I have to move?”

She smiled. “No.” She was surprised how much she didn’t mind his weight. It was comforting, in an odd way.

He bent to kiss the valley between her breasts.

“That Monday when I was hung over and cut our tennis game short? I saw you.”

His brows came together a little bit. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I was chasing your cat, it ran up the fire escape, and I followed. I saw you . . . touching yourself.”

His eyes grew wide, a blush tinted his skin.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “I liked it.”

His face got redder, but she also felt something hardening against her leg. She had to suppress a giggle; narcissist that he was, she might have known a little exhibitionism would get Taichi off.

“You liked it?” he asked, his eyes going a little dark with lust.

She nodded. She was enjoying his reaction to her confession. “I even joined in,” she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I put my fingers in my panties and had a party. Watching you was so hot, I got off.”

An animalistic noise breaking from his throat, he pushed her back on the bed and kissed her vulgarly. Now her beast was back. Pressed against her, he was fully erect again.

She broke their kiss to continue. “It wasn’t enough though. That whole game I just kept picturing you naked.” He was biting and sucking her neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it—that night I had a dream about you.” His head snapped up to look at her. “I had a dream I gave you a blow-job.” His eyes were so intense they were making her tremble. “I-It was the most erotic dream I’ve ever had.”

“Tell me about it,” he commanded softly.

His gaze was too consuming; she looked away. “You were—”

“No,” he said. “Look at me while you tell me.”

She swallowed; somehow this was more erotic to her than anything they had done that afternoon. This was frighteningly intimate. Looking back into his eyes, she began again. “You were lying on your bed, stroking yourself, holding that picture of me in the bikini. You called out my name, and I answered. You looked at me and said—” she paused, swallowing again, “you said, ‘Put me in your mouth.’” She was panting now. “I climbed onto your bed, between you legs. For a second I just looked at you. Your body is . . . —there’s a reason I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Then I lowered my head, stuck out my tongue, and dragged it across the tip of your cock.”

She gasped as she felt him trail the tip of his rod up her slit. She looked down at it reflexively, but Taichi gently, firmly, grasped her chin. “No Sora. Look at me.”

For a moment she did, stunned silent by the utter dynamism she found in his eyes.

“Continue,” he prompted.

She whimpered. “I-I did that a f-few times. I liked the taste.”

He moved his hips, dragging the tip of his penis between her pussy lips up to her clitoris, once, twice, three times.

She’d caught on to what he was doing now. “I may have done that a couple more times.”

He smiled naughtily as he saw that she’d figured out his game. He repeated the action two more times, bringing a cry from her.

“I wrapped my tongue around the crown, circling it a few times.” Her hands were clenched in his mass of hair as he took the end of his member and rolled it in circles around her clit, all the time never breaking eye-contact.

Sora was having a hard time focusing on thoughts long enough to put them into sentences. “Th-then I looked into your eyes,” she bit her lower lip, “and I took the tip into my mouth.”

She moaned loudly as he inserted the head of his penis in her dripping hole. She wanted to close her eyes and revel in the feeling, but knew that one of the rules of this game was not to break eye-contact—though he was beginning to have a little trouble with that statute himself. His eyes were threatening to roll back in bliss, his face tense with pleasure. It was an erotic sight.

“Then what?” he gasped.

“I took more of you, pushing to my throat.”

Gritting his teeth, he fed another few inches in her tunnel; it sent shocks of heat so intense, she couldn’t stop a small scream.

“I moved the top part of you in and out of my mouth, sucking on you—hard.”

He groaned and pulled his length out of her to insert the first half again, and again. She clenched him with her inner muscles and he cried out, closing his eyes for a moment—but only a moment. They opened and were once more fixed on her, while he moved himself in and out of her.

Sora didn’t know if seconds passed or minutes; all that existed was the pleasure washing over her body, the sweat coating her skin, and Taichi’s hot eyes.

“I—” she gasped, “I worked you down my throat, took all of you.”

She screamed as he slammed his entirety into her. Her hands had moved, at some time unknown to her, from his hair to his buttocks. She felt her nails digging into his flesh there.

He rocked her body with every thrust, every stroke harder than the last. They were both approaching their peak; she could feel hers coming, she could see his in his eyes. No matter how violently their bodies jerked and shook, eye-contact was never broken for more than a moment.

“You . . . you came in my mouth,” she whispered breathlessly.

He cried out and she felt herself being filled with his beautiful, hot juice. It triggered her own release, which, with a cry, left her in crumpled ecstasy beneath him.

Reality was hazy for the next few minutes. Pleasure lingered and wandered in her nerves, then slowly, quietly died. All she could hear was her heartbeat, and all she could feel was his, pulsing against her chest where his was still pressed. She basked in the contact, at ease.

Through the fog she heard words that jerked her violently to awareness.

“I love you, Sora.”

Her breath caught. She knew Taichi loved her, had known since the two of them were twelve—which was probably before he knew. Everyone knew, all their friends, both their families—Taichi was the only one who thought it was a secret. She had spent the last four years feeling half-guilty for dating his best friend because of it. It was part of the scenery, the furniture of her reality. But it was one thing to know, another thing to hear him say it.

Simultaneously and compulsively, a smile formed on her face and tears came to her eyes. She was so happy and so sad; they were words a secret part of her had wanted to hear for the longest time—a part that was positively giddy, but they were also words she could not give back. Not yet. She didn’t know yet whether she returned that love, and she cared too much for him, respected his feelings too much, to say she did without being completely sure.

When she said nothing, Taichi raised his head from her neck and looked at her, becoming alarmed at the sight of her tears.

“What’s wrong?”

She put a hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him toward her, meeting his lips in a tender, apologetic kiss. And Taichi, who never employed subtly or picked up on other people’s use of it, somehow caught that emotion.

He pulled back from her, held her eyes for a moment. Sora’s heart clenched; he looked so sad.

He rolled off her, standing. Turning to face her, he said, “It’s alright, Sora. I know it’s fast.”

“Taichi—”

“Can I use your shower?” he asked cutting her off.

She nodded. “Taichi—”

“I’ll be quick.”

“Taichi . . .” she stopped, expecting to be cut off again. Instead, he turned from where he was at her door and looked at her.

Her breath caught. The explanation didn’t come, the apology didn’t come. None of that seemed appropriate, or necessary. Instead, she said, “Can I join you?”

A wide grin broke out on his face. “Of course.”