Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Heart Beat ❯ Heart Beat ( One-Shot )

Namekey.

Takato Matsuda=Takato Mitsuki

Nami Asazi=Nami Asanuma

Henry Wong= Jenrya Lee

Heart beat

By Outlaw Torn

Once I had a little game
I liked to crawl back into my brain
I think you know the game I mean
I mean the game called 'go insane'

-Jim Morrison

Takato pumps his arms up and down as he runs, his backpack slapping into his spine as he races down the hall of his school, the bell had just rung, if he could get there in time he could-

"Matsuda! Why are you always so late?" It was Ms. Asanuma's voice. His Teacher. Her face glaring sternly at him.

Takato immediately bowed and said, ""I'm sorry Asanuma-san! I just woke up late and-"

"That's no excuse!" she cut him off. Takato's face fell even more; she was going to go off on a rant. But this was not to happen, there was more.

"Detention today again Matsuda…" she said, Takato kicking himself mentally to start waking up sooner, and then she added "Extra Detention…" In a low almost raspy voice.

Uh oh.

He gulped as she stalked off into the class room with an almost smug smile on her face. He knew what that meant… The rest of Takatos day was rather uneventful, he saw Hirokazu and Kenta at lunch and between history and science, they laughed, told each other what was up, and ate together. But, that word, that notion, hung over him the entire day like a black cloud.

After school, he said "hi," to Jenrya and Terriermon, who was pretending still to be a stuffed animal, waved at him. Then he walked down the street, and in he caught the bus for uptown. 20 minutes later he was standing outside Nami Asanuma's two story house. It was a new adopted western style, a total departure from the traditional Japanese style home that Ruki Makino lived in, but Takato never lived in one of those, his parents had moved into their Bakery and house since he was a baby.

He un-shouldered his backpack and held it by the straps, walking down the walk to her front door, the mid-summer air creeping up his high water pants. Detention ran into the late afternoon, so the sun was just getting about ready to set, the high hum in the air from the sun just dying down into cool caress of night.

He steps up to his fate, and knocks on the door. The door opens, she greets him, her school outfit, a pink women's dress shirt and a pleated blouse, seems to cling to her, almost restlessly.

"Hello Takato," She says, her voice composes but almost friendly. "Won't you come inside?" she says, stepping aside in her house slippers. He enters. The door shutting behind him, the doors dead-bolt locks sliding into place. He slips off his own shoes and walks in his socks with her on the clean carpeted floor; she pauses briefly and closes all the blinds absent-mindedly.

After she is done, they sit. She has made iced tea for them; they sit in separate chairs in the living room, watching each other, Takato silently sipping his iced tea as she just watches him.

"How, are my grades," Takato says meekly after a while, his words are more of a statement than a question.

"Fine," she says, taking her glass, raising it to her lips with red painted nails, and drinks a quarter of the glass at once. He watches her do this, almost in silent observation and dread. She sets the glass back down, reaching into her pocket; Takato watches anxiously to see what it is.

In her hand, is a black leather collar, about the size of a mid-sized dog? Except it's too finely crafted for an animal, its silver buckle shining, and its finish glossy. She puts it on the table beside her armchair and gets to her feet, sighing as she does so, not in a sad way though, more of a passing of breath. The metal of the collar clicks as it touches the lacquered hard wood table, it's a coffee table. She climbs the stairs slowly, her hips wagging as she does so, she disappears above the landing and he is left alone, for now.

He rises to his feet, and slowly, as if a school boy shuffling in no hurry for detention, and picks the collar off the table. He opens the expensive clasp, pushes his hair away from his neck, and puts it on. The smooth leather is cool against his skin, it settles around his shoulder as he tightens it to fit perfectly. Custom made just for him, he knows this. He also knows he is to go upstairs now. And so, he does that.

He enters Asanuma's bedroom, it's lit comfortably by a lamp in the corner, but the blinds are down. Now, he must get dressed, or rather, undress. He sits down on the bed, the soft white sheets yielding under his weight. He takes off his socks, folding them together and setting them on the floor beside the bed. Then, he reaches under his hooded sweat shirt, and pulls it up, and off his head. His skin prickles at the air here, though not because its cold, it seems to be an aura of foreboding. Like someone was watching you, all the time. He grunts softly, reaching down and undoing his pants, sliding them down past his ankles, then folds them up and places them beside his socks. He walks to the foot of the bed, and sits on his knees, in a sort of crouching position on the floor, in his white briefs, like a begging dog.

The door swings open, and Nami Asanuma enters. Her shadow of a strict school teacher is gone, totally. She now, is almost nude, her legs and feet are bare, her toe nails are painted a matching red, same as her finger nails, Takato notices. A fishnet skirt now floats around her waist, totally exposing her thighs, and her woman hood. She wears a similar top; it has sleeves and runs down her arms, the tight threading teasing her breasts together. She smiles at him, dangling black crescent moon earrings hanging from her small defined ears. Her hair is wet, he saw, meeting her dark eyes, she had been taking a shower.

In her left hand is a folded dark leather band, it's a leash. She strides toward him still with the same knowing smile and clips the end to his collar. He stares right into space, being obedient while she does this. He must not care, she has taught him. She now sits down at the foot of the bed, next to where she's kneeling. If he had been facing her, he would have seen her right between her legs, as she crosses them, one foot dangling bobbing slightly. He now must work through this. Silently, he turns himself half way on his knees, and brushes his lips past her ankle, his tongue leaving his mouth to slide wetly up her heel and finally up her calf, leaving a trail of saliva up her porcelain-like skin.

She watches him, silently, nor saying a word as he reaches her knees, and she unfolds her legs. The sight of her bright red pussy greats him, like an old friend that wont go away. He leans his head in, her red tipped fingers drawing her fishnet skirt back to give him room. He can smell her head and salt as he lowers his tongue in, lightly lapping around the edges of her, she hums approvingly. Then he closes his eyes, opening his jaw wider now to get at her with more of his tongue, she closes her eyes as well, leaning back with both hands, as her indentured servant, pleases her.

After seven minutes or so, she is fully excited. She moans softly, her pale breasts bobbing up and down slightly in the fish net top, as she now grinds her hips into her face. Her mouth hangs open, exposing the dark pit that is her throat, her earrings almost jingling like bells. Takato has the heavy taste of salt and copper in his mouth, like eating a giant penny, and then she comes. She growls and calls into the room, it's not loud, but he had driven her totally over the edge this time. Takato had his mouth totally cupped over her vagina at this point, sucking with his lips as well as stroking the inside of her with his tongue when we wasn't busy swallowing whatever came from her and his own spit.

Her red nails pressed into his scalp as she pressed his face into her, wrapping her long white legs around his neck and upper back, spasming into him. He groans for breath and swallows more salty fluid, the chore wearing on him. Finally, when she is done, she releases him, and lies back against the bed completely. Not even holding herself up, just laying totally back against the bed with its white sheets and its four posts. Takato rips his head back from Asanuma's thighs, her come dribbling down his chin and his lungs sucking in leagues of fresh air. After Takato draws in several deep breaths, his eyes half-lidded and hazy, he assumes his crouching position again.

Time passes slowly in the room waiting for his teacher to recover; the clock on the nightstand next to the bed reads seven o' clock. He should be home, but in school where he lived, you could very well stay at school until dark if you had detention. Asanuma moans from the bed, arching her back and sliding to her feet, aquiline from her back to a stand, the show begins anew.

She now smiles sweetly at him, not smug or wise as before, just, appreciative. Takato is happy for this because it means she might not want to do this with him again, but he also knows she would require him at odd times, sometimes during a busy week. He stares forward again, and waits. She pads on the carpet with her bare feet, and kneels on the floor next to him. Her arm wraps around him, he can feel the warmth of her skin and the scent of her sweat, but he draws closer to her, because he knows she likes this. He wraps his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder as she runs her long firm fingers through his untamed brown hair. He feels the fishnet shirt from her chest and arms on his skin, the threads are almost sharp.

Her hands slide down around his hips and brush up against the crotch of his pants. He sometimes became aroused serving her; this was one of those times. She wanted to go all the way, again. He nods. She whispers in his ear, "Good boy."

She now lies on the bed, and pulls him forward by way of the leash around his collar. She lays up against the beds pillows, and pulls her skirt all the way up this time. He pulls his briefs down, his half hardened meat wagging at her. He's not as big there as an adult would be surely, but he's done her so many times he knows just how to use it. He climbs on top of her hips, the fish net skirt biting into his legs, and reaches down, cupping her breasts gingerly through her net as she spreads for him.

He feels her wrap her legs around his lower back now, trapping him. He lowers his swinging meat in closer, and then thrusts in. She cries as she feels the young boy enter her, immediately thrusting his hips, learned through months of training. Sometimes, they did nothing at all, but wear his collar, and hang around her place. She liked to keep him around, like a doll almost… Sometimes she would do it to him, give him oral sex and then send him home, his seed hot in her mouth. But now, they fucked. The adult holding the young boy enthralled, his man-hood thrusting into her red snatch. He has her as an equal now, her mouth gapes open again as it always does when she's being driven crazy. Her brown eyes shut tight as if being under a waterfall.

Her legs tighten around him as he feels her begin to cum again, he must go harder. He needs to hammer an orgasm out of her this way, the penis isn't the same to the woman as a tongue or some other flexible object can be. He grits his teeth as he presses himself totally into her, his white young cream filling her, this is what does is. She screams and digs into the sheets with her red nails, her legs tightening around his waste as his fluids mix with hers. He cries out as well, and falls onto her stomach, the fish net skirt under him grates into his skin, biting at his nipples.

They lay there; her legs letting him go like a snake pulling its fangs out of a wounded field mouse. After a while he feels her stir, and rolls off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, until she takes his leash and collar off. He gathers his things, and dresses, and then waits down stairs for her. He's clothed again as he sits in the arm chair across from the one Asanuma sat in across from him, drinking iced tea. That already felt like a century ago. He looked at the table, his iced tea was all watered down, but he still took it, and slurped some of it, grateful for the cleansing feeling it gives his throat.

Nami Asanuma steps down the stairs, and greets him in a bath robe. She would take another shower after this, he knows her. Its night time now, no one will see him leave. She walks him to the door, and as he slides his feet into his green sneakers, she kisses him on the cheek. Her lips are warm, and the sensation stays even after he steps out into the night to catch the bus back home.

He knows one thing, I have got to start waking up earlier…