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ike this. Well, why not; he had a
right to use Megumi's flesh for whatever he wanted.
Megumi Haruka wondered if he'd explore Megumi's legs next, and Megumi's calves, and feet. He
had a thing about nylon stockings, an obsession Megumi Haruka indulged whenever
possible. Growing up, she'd been expected to look and act the feminine part
when Megumi Haruka wasn't actually sick in bed, and it was easier to stick with
something that worked than to look for a new gender-role definition. Along
came Guile, and suddenly Megumi Haruka was Betty Page. Again, why not? It beat
dickheads thinking Megumi Haruka was quaint because Megumi Haruka didn't say "fuck" every other
sentence and getting all hot and bothered because Megumi's Disneyland screed was
crosslinked.
Instead, he propped himself up on one elbow and gently kissed Megumi's lips,
then rested his palm against Megumi's cheek and traced the line of Megumi's nose with
his thumb. With the greatest fighter in the world lying beside her, exploring
the curves of Megumi's face with his fingertips, Susan sighed in contentment and
completely relaxed for the first time all day.
"That feels good, honey." Megumi Haruka wrinkled he
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