Fan Fiction ❯ The Fitting ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I do not own W Juliet.

 

 

The Fitting

 

 

“What do you mean it won't fit?!”

 

“What part of `it won't fit' don't you understand?”

 

“Then let me come in and see-”

 

“NO!”

 

Makoto sighed heavily and rest his forehead against the door to his room. This was the assignment from hell.

 

While ordinarily Makoto loved Itou-sensei, his drama teacher, she'd really pushed her senior students this time. As a final project before graduation, a date he was eagerly anticipating, each student had to pair with another in a character development exercise. Each had a randomly selected role to play and prepare for, and each had to make a costume for the other. It was supposed to be a team-building exercise to `broaden their horizons.'

 

All it had turned into so far was a big headache.

 

Ito had lucked out, as Makoto had drawn a monologue from “The Glass Menagerie,” set in 1930s America. The dresses of that era were simple, and even with Ito's marginal sewing skills, Makoto looked like the perfect tragic Laura Wingfield.

 

Makoto, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate. Ito was playing Katherine from Taming of the Shrew, and Itou-sensei insisted on period clothing from Shakespeare's era. Makoto tried to argue that since Shakespeare's actors wore the clothing of their own time so should Ito, but Itou-sensei would have none of that. Makoto just figured she wanted to see Ito in a fancy dress, a rare event for the athletic tomboy.

 

After six hours of painstaking stitching, even with Ito's measurements, the first version had been way to big. Something was strange with the pattern he'd managed to find, and he had to spend another three hours altering the bodice and skirt. And after Ito's complaints about the garment tying in the back, requiring assistance from Makoto to put her in it, he'd rigged strong hooks on one of the front panels so she could put it on herself. The very male part of him that he'd concealed for the last three years was looking forward to having to lace her into the garment he'd made. He couldn't help but be disappointed. Especially as now this version seemed to not fit.

 

Makoto sighed again. At least they were doing this at his place, so he could be wearing men's clothes. Only two weeks until graduation, and then he wouldn't have to hide anymore. Two weeks, and he could introduce her as his fiancé to his family, and he to hers.

 

The sounds of shuffling and disconcerted grunting filtered through the rice-paper door. Ito's breathing seemed to increase, and a frustrated moan sounded. Makoto lifted his head up, concerned.

 

“Ito?”

 

There was a long pause. Ito's voice was small and embarrassed as it floated through the door.

 

“I can't get it off.”

 

Her tone of voice pulled at his heartstrings. As frustrating as Ito could be sometimes, he truly loved his tall trouble-magnet. Smiling to himself a little, he straightened completely, pin cushion in hand and tape measure draped over his shoulders.

 

“I'm coming in.”

 

He calmly slid the door aside, ready to assess the damage and make the proper fitting adjustments. As Ito turned around to face him, his normally well-schooled visage changed to surprise, jaw dropping open slightly.

 

The top was definitely tight, more so than the period would dictate. The square neck provided a perfect frame for Ito's breasts, the pale globes pressed upwards into enticing cleavage. Her figure was usually lost under comfortable t-shirts, so seeing her small assets served up like lovely ripe oranges sent heat shooting to his groin. The bodice also showed off her tapered waist and the curve of her hips. His hands itched to caress those exposed lines.

 

“Mako?”

 

His hand clenched at the sudden sound of her voice, and he dropped the pincushion as a few sharp points dug into his skin. He tore his eyes away from the lovely picture in front of him to examine his hand, trying unsuccessfully to calm his waking erection. Ito's wide doe-like eyes did nothing to help his predicament.

 

“Yes?” he responded, a slight husky tone creeping in his voice.

 

“I can't move my arms much. I think it's a bit tight.”

 

Her words brought back to mind just what the tight garment did to him, and his groin responded again. Makoto grit his teeth a little and tried to will his mind to focus on the task at hand. The dress needed to be completed. Ito spoke again before he could bring himself back to a calm state.

 

“Does it . . . look that bad on me?”

 

The quiet insecurity in her tone brought his eyes back to her face. She was looking down, hands worrying parts of the skirt at her side. Desire mixed with the need to comfort his beautiful love, and he advanced on her swiftly.

 

Makoto slid one arm smoothly around her slim waist and pulled her to him, his free hand gently catching her chin. He lifted her face to meet his eyes, and she gasped a little at the intensity of his gaze. His hips pressed lightly into hers, just enough for her to feel her effect on him.

 

“What do you think, Ito,” he responded, voice low.

 

She shivered a little in his embrace. Despite his words, a thread of doubt still ran through her eyes. Makoto decided to try another tactic.

 

Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he bent his head towards hers, pausing when he could feel the slight panting of her breath whispering across his lips.

 

“You are intoxicating,” he said softly to her lips before capturing them in a gentle but sensual kiss.

 

His lips played with hers gently, teasing the soft petals with slow nips. Her soft moan played delightfully over his ears, and he teased her open lips with his tongue in response. She opened for him willingly, and his attentions changed from gentle to heated, sealing her mouth under the onslaught of his lips and tongue. Her hands gripped his arms where they surrounded her torso, unable to reach around to embrace him in return.

 

Long moments passed unheeded as they drank of each other's lips. It was only when Ito began to slump in his arms that he pulled away, his strong embrace holding her upright. Makoto noticed with both satisfaction and concern the depth of her flush and the extent to which her chest heaved with her pants.

 

“Tight. . . hard . . .breathe,” she said between breaths.

 

He smirked a little, and carefully dipped her to the soft tatami floor. Ito gripped his forearms as he laid her down gently. His long golden hair fell down around his face as he knelt over her, straddling her hips.

 

“I think we need to get you out of this bodice,” he replied, mischief and passion combining in his voice.

 

With Ito's answering nod combined with the subtle licking of her lips, Makoto proceeded. His long, graceful fingers cupped her face briefly, his lips tasting the sweet wetness she just provided. She squirmed a little under him as the ends of his hair brushed the sensitive skin of her chest. His fingers continued downwards, teasing the skin of her neck as his heated gaze watched her flush continue to deepen.

 

Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the edge of the neckline, purposefully picking the front seam not attached by hooks. It would have to be widened there anyway. Snaring Ito's eyes with his own, he gripped hard and pulled sharply.

 

Ito's body jerked upwards as the sound of ripping stitches filled the room. Makoto's strong grip pulled open the seam with one smooth stroke, baring her chest to his hungry gaze. He let the edges of the bodice fall from his hands and began tracing the reddened lines that the constricting garment left behind.

 

“Does it hurt?” he purred, watching with satisfaction as her eyes filled with desire.

 

“A little,” she said lowly, smiling.

 

“I should make you feel better then.”

 

He slid down her slender form and bent his head towards her torso. Starting at the skirt band, he lightly licked a long line from her waist, around the edge of one straining breast, and stopping where the neckline had ended. He repeated the motion on the other side, tracing each fading line with nips and licks. He purposefully avoided her hardening nipples, grinning as she arched and moaned with each pass.

 

Finally, Ito growled and sat up, lips attacking his as she struggled out of the rest of the tight top. Makoto barely held back the chuckle that bubbled past his lips. Her tongue tangled with his, hot and demanding satisfaction. She grunted with relief as her arms finally came free, hands flying to his shirt. He felt her strong fingers grip the cotton material, and pulled back a from her lips in surprise when it suddenly opened, buttons ripping from their holes with violent force. He saw the mischievous glint in her eyes, and her hot fingers brushed over his exposed chest.

 

“Turnabout is fair play,” she said, grinning widely.

 

He shed his shirt in the briefest of moments and tackled her back to the floor. They both gasped as electricity sparked between their heated flesh. Makoto loved the sensation of her pebbled nipples against his firm muscles. Unable to resist, he bent his head to her chest once more and wrapped his lips around one distended peak.

 

Ito moaned loudly, threading her fingers through his soft hair. She arched into his attentions, seeking more of the wet heat around her sensitive skin. Makoto scraped his teeth up one nipple, and switched his attentions to the other. She switched her hands from his hair to the muscles of his back, pulling and gripping the firm planes.

 

When he had drunk all he could from her soft skin, he sought her lips again to taste her fiery sweetness. Ito gripped him close, pressing her athletic body along his toned form. Makoto groaned as she rubbed against his clothed erection, almost becoming painful in the confines of his pants. He pulled back from her soft lips, holding her still beneath him. It took a moment for him to regain the ability to speak, trying hard to hold back the delightful sensations of her moving beneath him.

 

“Ito-koi, I want you. Do you want this?” He pressed his hips lightly to her center so he was sure she caught his meaning. He could tell she was thinking from the faint movement of her brow, but it only took a moment for her to respond.

 

“Yes, please,” she said, pulling his lips back down to hers for a kiss full of so much heat, he felt like his whole body was on fire.

 

While his lips were occupied, he fumbled with the buttons on his pants, absently wishing he was in his female disguise so he could get to her that much faster. Finally the fastenings gave way and he kicked out of the tangled pants and briefs. Growing more impatient, he pushed up her long skirt instead of unfastening it, pulling her short-like underwear with one smooth movement. Ito lifted her hips to help his progress.

 

As he moved back up to take her lips again, he drifted soft fingers up the outside of her bare leg. He enjoyed the brief hitch of her breath as he traced along the upper seam of her leg, and he swallowed her groan as one digit traced her wet folds. He pulled from her swollen lips, watching her intently as he inserted a long finger into her heat. She arched back sharply, eyes closing in pleasure as he stroked her.

 

Soon her hips were dancing in rhythm with his movements, increasing in intensity as he added a second finger and brushed his thumb over her hooded clit. Her smell, the eager movements of her hips beneath him, and the feel of her wetness clenching around him almost made him lose control. Agonizingly, he pulled out, wincing a little at her frustrated moan.

 

“Mako!”

 

He laid his body over hers, guiding the head of his erection to her folds.

 

“I'm sorry, koi, but I can't wait any longer.”

 

“Please, I need you,” she moaned, eyes heavy with desire.

 

Makoto needed no further urging. He pressed his hips forward slowly, gritting his teeth at the urge to thrust quickly. Feeling the expected resistance partway in, he took her lips gently with a murmured apology. He gave in to the urge to press deeply, and seated himself with one strong thrust within her.

 

Ito stiffened a little, but did not cry out. She was a tough girl, and Makoto loved that about her. That and everything else. He held still for a few moments, waiting for her to initiate the first movement. It was torture, being surrounded by her unbelievably tight heat.

 

Finally, he felt the wonderful friction of her hips sliding against his. She was hot and wet, her inner muscles clenching delightfully around his shaft. Everything about her was perfect. He began thrusting into her with relief.

 

Ito responded to his motions by raising her hips to meet his. His hands drifted down her body to cup her firm rear, pulling her as close as possible with each thrust. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lips kissing every part of his face and neck she could reach.

 

As he pressed faster and faster into her, his pelvis grinding against her welcoming heat, she began to pant heavily, hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. She cried out a broken version of his name, and her fluttering muscles clamped around his aching erection. Makoto felt his sac tightening, a searing heat shooting up from his toes as he came with a sharp groan.

 

Long moments passed before Makoto could put two thoughts together. When his eyes finally refocused, he was greeted by Ito's blushing, satisfied smile. He pulled out of her carefully, groaning at the loss of her heat. Rolling to the side with her in his arms, he kissed the top of her head tenderly.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” she responded. “I can't wait until graduation.”

 

He hummed affirmatively, tightening his embrace. A wicked smile crossed his features.

 

“So, do I have to let out the bodice? I sorta like it the way it is.”

 

She thumped his chest with a hard first, and he chuckled.

 

“Only if you want the entire drama club, including Toki-sempai, to see me like that.”

 

His eyes darkened for a moment, and he held her closer.

 

“I'll work on it tonight.”

 

She laughed, and snuggled closer into his embrace.

 

“I think you can wait until tomorrow.”

 

He found that he agreed.