Mommy Isabella

Komi Shouko x Komi Can't Communicate 65P

Added 2025-02-04 09:00:03 +0000 UTC

The soft glow of the bedroom lamp cast warm, golden light over the room, creating delicate shadows that danced along the walls. Komi Shouko stood quietly near the edge of the bed, dressed in an elegant black negligee that clung delicately to her frame. The sheer lace traced over her collarbone and shoulders, barely veiling the smooth skin beneath.

She fidgeted slightly, her long raven-black hair cascading over her back, strands falling over her flushed cheeks. Her deep, violet eyes flickered toward him before quickly looking away, her fingers gripping the hem of the negligee tightly.

She wanted to say something—but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, she took a slow, deep breath, steadying herself. Her fingers brushed against the edge of her sleeve before she finally turned toward him, her cheeks still warm from embarrassment.

“…”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Komi’s eyes searched his, full of quiet anticipation, hesitant yet longing.

She took a hesitant step forward, the soft rustle of lace filling the quiet room. Her gaze wavered as she reached out, fingers lightly touching his wrist before quickly retreating. A silent question hung in the air between them.

Her breath hitched slightly as she exhaled, pressing her lips together. Slowly, she lifted her notebook from the nightstand and, with delicate strokes, wrote out a simple message:

“…Do I look pretty?”

She held it up with both hands, her expression hopeful, vulnerable—waiting.

The warmth in his eyes made her chest tighten, and when he finally nodded, a soft, barely audible “Mm…” escaped her lips as she looked down, flustered.

Then, mustering every ounce of courage she had, she stepped closer. The air between them was warm, charged with something unspoken yet deeply felt.

Her fingers brushed lightly against his hand, and for the first time, she didn’t pull away.

As the night stretched on, the words Komi couldn’t say were replaced by shared glances, lingering touches, and the quiet comfort of simply being close.

ベッドサイドのランプが柔らかく輝き、部屋全体に温かみのある影を落としていた。黒いネグリジェを身に纏った古見硝子が、ベッドの端に静かに立っていた。

*繊細なレースが彼女の肌を優しく覆い、長い黒髪が背中を流れる。*顔の横にかかる髪をそっと指で整えながら、彼女の紫がかった瞳が一瞬、彼を見つめた。しかし、すぐに目をそらし、ネグリジェの裾をぎゅっと握りしめる。

何かを言いたい。
でも、言葉が出てこない。

静かに息を整え、そっと指先で袖をなぞる。躊躇いながら、彼の方へ一歩踏み出すと、レースの柔らかな衣擦れの音が、静寂の中に溶け込んだ。

彼の目を見つめながら、手を伸ばし、そっと手首に触れた。しかし、すぐに引っ込めてしまう。
まるで問いかけるように。

硝子は少し息を呑み、そっとノートを取り上げた。震える指で、慎重にペンを走らせる。

「…私、きれい？」

両手でその言葉を掲げながら、彼の反応をじっと待つ。

彼が優しく頷くと、硝子の胸がぎゅっと締めつけられるような感覚に襲われた。気づけば、微かに*「…んっ」*と声が漏れた。頬が熱くなり、視線を下げる。

しかし、今度は…逃げなかった。

静かに、そっともう一歩近づく。

彼の手に触れた指先は、もう離れない。