Konoko's breath caught as Gramps's hands moved slowly along her calf, the warmth of the oil spreading against her skin. She tried to hold herself still, to not let the little twitches of her body give her away. But she couldn't stop the way her thighs tensed, how her toes curled, or the faint shiver that rippled through her spine. Her body was still raw, hypersensitive from the morning release, and every touch felt like a spark.
But her body betrayed her. The warmth spread from her hand to her shoulder, and to her chest. She could feel her own heart beating wildly, and the only thing that mattered in that moment was that he didn't notice. She focused on the rigidity of her fingers, the calm of her expression. The touch was gentle, but her reaction was that of someone who had just received a shock.
She bit her lip, forcing herself to breathe evenly, but a faint sound slipped from her throat — not quite a moan, but close enough to make her cheeks burn. She quickly covered it up, trying to act as if nothing had happened.
Her mind screamed: I can't… it's too much… I shouldn't feel this way… She wanted to push him away, to tell him she was fine, but instead she let the words tumble out as a clumsy excuse:
"M-my back… it's been hurting… from lifting boxes at work," she admitted softly, hoping to distract him, to explain away her trembling.
Gramps stilled for a moment, then chuckled warmly, patting her leg. "Ahh, that explains it, no wonder you're stiff all over. These young jobs, they work you too hard."
He straightened, wiping his hands, then looked at her with gentle insistence. "Why didn't you say so earlier, hm? Come on, girl. I'll give your back a proper massage too. It'll help you feel better."
Her heart skipped. The thought of his hands moving higher, over her spine, her shoulders — her whole body already too alive, too tender — sent a nervous wave through her.
No… no, I can't handle more… but if I refuse, he'll just keep pressing…
She forced a polite smile, even as her pulse quickened. "Y-you really don't have to, Gramps…"
But he was already reaching for more oil.
Konoko's polite smile faltered the moment she saw him pour more oil into his palms, rubbing them together with that same determined, well-meaning energy he always carried. Her stomach flipped — not from disgust, but from the sharp knot of anxiety that pressed against her ribs. Her body was still humming, oversensitive from before, and she knew that if his hands moved higher, she wouldn't be able to keep her reactions hidden.
I need to stop this… I can't let him…
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she forced her voice to stay light. "G-Gramps, really, it's not so bad. The back pain will pass… maybe I'll just use a hot water bottle later." She shifted slightly, pretending to stretch as if to prove her point, though the truth was she was desperately trying to escape his hands.
But he only chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nonsense. A hot bottle won't do half as much as a proper massage. You're young, but your body needs care too."
Her throat tightened. He won't let it go.
She felt her palms dampen with nervous sweat, the scent of oil mixing with the faint trace of herself still clinging to the room. She had to come up with something stronger, an excuse he couldn't brush off.
So she laughed awkwardly, waving her hand. "Actually, I-I was just about to take a nap. I think some sleep will help more than anything."
That seemed to slow him down. He blinked, then sighed as if relenting — though she could tell he wasn't fully convinced. "A nap, eh? Well, I won't argue with rest. But don't think you're getting out of it completely. Tomorrow, I'll work those knots out of your back. You'll thank me after."
She forced a soft, grateful smile, hiding the tightness in her chest. "Thank you, Gramps… you're too kind."
Inside, though, she was trembling with relief. Tomorrow… tomorrow I'll need to find another excuse.
Konoko curled beneath the light blanket, her body still humming faintly, every nerve so tender that even the soft brush of fabric against her core made her twitch. She pressed her thighs together tightly, hoping the warmth would ease the leftover tension instead of reigniting it.
Her mind wouldn't slow down. She could still smell the faint trace of oil clinging to her skin, mixed with the heavier, embarrassing scent she knew was hers. Gramps had noticed earlier, and her chest tightened at the thought. If he knew the truth… if he understood what that smell really was… Her face heated, and she buried it deeper into the pillow.
Sleep refused to come. Every time she closed her eyes, she replayed the moment his hands had skimmed her calf, the way her body had betrayed her with shivers. She hated how easy it was to imagine those hands sliding higher, massaging her sore back, pressing against her ultra-sensitive skin.
Stop it, stop it… it's wrong… she whispered inside her head, but the thoughts wouldn't fade. Instead, her body pulsed with leftover need, as if mocking her.
She hugged the pillow tighter, muffling a small whimper. The exhaustion from work was real, but the unrest in her body made her feel trapped, like she couldn't fully escape either her shame or her craving.
Finally, her breathing slowed into a shallow rhythm, not quite sleep but a fragile doze. And still, just beneath the haze, she could feel the ache — the soreness of her back, the sensitivity between her legs, and the gnawing worry that tomorrow Gramps would insist again.