Pandoras Box
Aoki is startled by the soft knock on his door.
"Coming," he calls out, heading over, shirtless.
It's Emi. In the flesh.
A flicker of excitement wells up inside him. He tries to hide it.
"Hey, how are you?" he greets, extending his hand, his smile wider than he feels comfortable with. He's letting on too much. Showing too much. This isn't like him.
"I'm all good," Emi replies, her smile sweet, effortlessly warm as she tries to keep her eyes from feasting on the meal right before her. She manages to maintain eye contact even as her peripheral vision marvels at this man's physical features. "The chest, the biceps, I wonder how big his c... "
"How may I help you?," her thought process is interrupted by Aokis voice.
She feels embarrassed and flushes red,
"Oh, I...I was just hoping you wouldn't mind if I borrowed your USB cable. Mine's broken,"
She says with a sweet puppy face.
"Of course you can," Aoki smirks internally. The oldest trick in the book. Break the ice with the neighbor by borrowing something simple. Classic.
As Emi leaves, Aoki realizes he'll have to go over to Emi's apartment to hand over the cable. He throws on a t-shirt quickly and heads over. When he arrives, the door is already open.
"Come in," Emi calls from inside.
Aoki steps in, hesitating only for a moment before letting himself take in the space. The scent of fresh linen and something subtly sweet lingers in the air.
His gaze sweeps over the room—the interior décor, the large painting of a savanna tree on the wall.
"I like the style. I love the taste," he comments.
"Thank you," Emi says as she leads them beyond the bedroom to the balcony.
A soft breeze drifts between them, carrying the ghost of Emi's scent.
"So, you decided you'd never speak to me, huh?" Emi teases, her lips curled into something playful.
Aoki smirks. He saw that coming from a mile away.
"No, no, no, it's not like that," he retorts, half-joking, half-defensive... but clearly enjoying himself.
Just like that, the conversation picks up and locks in with banter about random things, like they were long-lost friends catching up on what they've been up to over the years.
---
A little later...
"So, what's your poison?" Aoki asks as Emi pours them both coffee.
"I thought you'd never ask," Emi replies smoothly. Then, with a cheeky tilt of her head, "Been wondering why you selfishly smoke your weed alone."
Aoki chuckles. Clever.
"Say no more." He fishes out a slim blunt from his pocket, motioning toward the balcony.
"We're about to have a joint session," he quips, "pun intended."
Emi laughs a little at Aoki's unfunny joke. She likes his lame sense of humor—dad jokes are her thing too.
They step out into the night, passing the blunt between them, fingers brushing, pheromones mingling in the air. Someway, somehow they both know they want the same thing. They feel it in their bones. But choose to act like they don't, just so they can fall into each other's arms with the smoothness of a well-written poem. They were going to let gravity be responsible for their falling in love.
Moments later, they are laughing their asses off, each joke funnier than the last. Must be the THC effect. Or maybe they were just that funny a duo. A match made in heaven, meant for each other.
Eventually, they end up sprawled across Emi's bed, lying in opposite directions, heads resting close, breath mingling in a silence only broken by an occasional quiet, meditative high comment about something random. Something either deeply philosophical or something utterly stupid. No in between. They were so high they had their heads in the clouds.
---
A beat of silence.
Then—Emi's fingers stray too close to Aoki's lips. Too close for comfort...is what someone else would have said. But not Aoki. Aoki was something different, built different...
Aoki watches them, something dark flickering in his eyes.
"Do what feels right," the devil on his shoulder whispers, echoing a line from one of Kira Noir's adult movies.
He parts his lips just slightly, just enough—and takes in Emi's ring finger, then her forefinger.
Warm. Wet. Slow.
His tongue flicks against the pads of her fingers, sucking sensually. Sexually.
Emi gasps.
A sharp inhale, pupils dilating, breath catching.
Aoki pauses.
"No," Emi whispers, voice shaky, needy. "Don't stop."
Something unspoken passes between them.
Emi swallows hard. "Where the hell did you come from?" Her voice is hushed, reverent. Then, almost like a confession—
"You're nasty. I love nasty."
---
And then—
They're all over each other. Hands roaming, hips rolling, moans swallowed between frantic kisses. Grinding on each other's baby makers, having somehow lost all their clothes, with only his boxers and her panties standing between them and the holy grail... the horny grail.
Emi stops first.
"Wait—isn't this a little too fast?" Her voice is breathless, but she's not really asking.
She just doesn't want to seem easy.
Aoki chuckles, brushing his thumb over Emi's jaw, tilting her chin slightly.
"No," he murmurs. "It's just fast enough."
And he kisses her, deep.
---
They don't fuck that night.
But they both know.
They will.
Soon.
Pandora's box is open. And so begins a journey into the dark, into the abyss.
And neither of them is ready for what lies beyond the edge of the darkness. Nothing could have possibly prepared them.