Ch.57Chapter 57

I found a spot to settle down and sleep.

Thanks to the Professor zipping up my cat pajamas, they weren’t sliding off my shoulders. That meant I didn’t need to hold them in place.

In the darkened room, the Professor seemed to still have work to do, typing something diligently on a desktop computer rather than a laptop.

Tap-tap-tap. The heavy sound of keystrokes.

It wasn’t particularly loud. The low, heavy sound felt like consistent white noise when I closed my eyes and listened. Similar to the laptop sound I’d heard earlier in the living room.

I actually preferred the laptop sound, but this wasn’t bad either, so I just rolled around contentedly.

Lying on my stomach on the bed, I watched the Professor’s back.

There was a coffee cup placed beside the table. The slightly hunched posture while sipping coffee looked like something you might commonly see anywhere.

As I watched quietly, I twisted my body. Every time a part of my cat pajamas brushed against me, it felt like the fabric was shifting across my entire body. The rubbing sensation felt strange somehow, making me grimace slightly.

I relaxed my slightly contorted expression and bounced my body upward once. Despite flopping around on the bed with a thud, that ticklish sensation from before remained.

I knew the cause, but I didn’t particularly want to confront it.

It seemed like it would be uncomfortable, so I was reluctant to deal with it. I also felt guilty about it, which made me hesitant to touch it.

And while beginnings are difficult, I worried that later I might end up focusing only on this. But beyond curiosity, the persistent itchiness was another problem, so I rubbed my thighs together.

It wasn’t as direct a sensation as when I was washing earlier, but it did provide some relief to the itchy area, making things a bit more comfortable.

But only a little bit.

The first couple of times, I could scratch the itch. But everyone knows that tapping an itchy spot with your fingers doesn’t fundamentally relieve it.

My action of pressing my thighs together and hoping for relief from the fabric was exactly like that.

“…Mmm.”

I twisted my body while letting out a pained groan. Worried the Professor might find it strange, but also too self-conscious to leave the room, I rolled around on the bed.

I fumbled my way under the blanket. That added to the earlier sensation.

The desire to relieve the itchiness eventually pulled at my hand. I flinched and averted my gaze in different directions.

I was curious. But I didn’t just want to feel it blindly. That’s why the current situation was uncomfortable.

If only the itchiness would go away, everything would be fine, but since it wouldn’t, it was becoming frustrating. I bit my lip firmly and twisted my body.

“…Ourr?”

After I’d wriggled around under the blanket, the rustling sound seemed to alert the Professor that something was wrong.

I had been debating whether to touch it or not, but decided to act quickly to put out the urgent fire. I scratched the itchy area with my hand and then pulled back the blanket.

The moment of escaping from that stuffy space was nothing short of refreshing.

Like a child caught doing something wrong, I folded my hands neatly and avoided eye contact. No one would say this was wrong, but it still felt strange and not something I’d proudly show to others, so I pouted.

If I had just gone out calmly, it wouldn’t have seemed strange, but whether my thinking was limited or I was too distracted by my current feelings, my face felt hot.

My head didn’t seem to be working properly.

“Ourr, are you in pain?”

The Professor seemed to think I was hurting.

If you call it pain, then yes. It felt like today of all days, the Professor was paying extra attention. My body seemed to act up only at times like this.

I wondered if even being a Demon God didn’t help with resolving this kind of issue.

Clutching the blanket tightly, I drooped my shoulders and confessed the truth.

“…Well, I’m itchy…”

While telling the truth was good, telling this particular truth was embarrassing, making it difficult to speak properly.

I said this so the Professor wouldn’t worry unnecessarily, but I was concerned it might seem strange instead.

I pressed my hands, still gripping the blanket, firmly between my legs. I realized that applying some pressure could somewhat block the itchiness.

“Itchy? Want me to scratch it for you?”

“Ah, no!”

Scratch it? Where? Here?

I shook my head urgently. No matter what, having someone else scratch such a place was unimaginable, so I kept my lips tightly shut.

The Professor doesn’t know where I’m itchy, that’s why they’re offering.

“No, the fabric is made of fur, so it might be itchy. Let me scratch it for you.”

Despite how vigorously I shook my head, the Professor paid no mind and rose from the chair.

The Professor approached the bed where I was and reached out to me.

I couldn’t possibly say where it was itchy. Wondering what to do, I felt dizzy. In this dizzying situation, the Professor gently pulled me into an embrace.

Drawn out from under the blanket, I hesitated before turning my back to the Professor.

Zip, the sound of the zipper coming down. The fabric on my shoulders fell limply. Since my arms were still in the sleeves, it didn’t fall enough to expose my chest.

I leaned my body forward. I closed my eyes tightly and decided to leave myself to the Professor’s touch.

Since things had come to this, I could just pretend my back was itchy and move on.

“Here?”

The Professor raised their fingernails and scratched my back. It wasn’t actually itchy, but being scratched felt so good it seemed addictive.

I had planned to just let it pass, but it felt nice enough that I relaxed and closed my eyes. The arm I had positioned like a pillar between my legs slightly scratched my crotch.

Could this area also be scratched to feel refreshed? Such a question arose.

I mumbled. My back was feeling refreshed, but this area wasn’t, so I flicked my fingers. Then carefully, I called out to the Professor who was scratching my back.

“Pro-Professor…?”

“Hmm? Should I stop now?”

“No, that’s not it…”

I had been hunched over, but I straightened my back and turned my head slightly. Looking toward where the Professor was, I mumbled before continuing despite my embarrassment.

“Here, it’s… itchy too…”

“Hmm? Where?”

The Professor widened their eyes as if wondering where else could be itchy besides my back.

I gulped. Feeling awkward about where to say was itchy, I thought I didn’t need to specify the exact term and just pointed slightly with my hand.

“He-here…?”

I fidgeted with the area between my legs. The Professor sighed, “Ah,” and then placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Do you perhaps have an allergy to Ourr’s fur…? So your thighs are itchy? Let’s change your clothes first.”

The Professor, perhaps sensing something odd about my persistent complaints of itchiness, immediately left the room and returned with a t-shirt and Dolphin Shorts that had been hanging in the closet.

“Here, take this off first.”

“Ah, yes…”

The Professor reached out as if I should undress quickly. I naturally took off my clothes and, with the Professor’s help, changed immediately.

When told to stand up to put on the pants, I hesitated.

If I let this pass, it wouldn’t be embarrassing. The Professor wouldn’t think it strange either. But then I worried I might never be able to wear my beloved cat pajamas again.

So I stopped the Professor who was trying to put the Dolphin Shorts on my legs.

“Th-that’s not it…!”

When I exclaimed, the Professor’s gaze turned toward me. Frozen in place, the Professor waited quietly as if willing to hear what I wanted.

It had become a strange scene.

With the Dolphin Shorts halfway on my legs, unsure if they were being put on or taken off, I hesitated before lowering my gaze.

I needed to put them on, but to solve the problem I felt I needed to take them off, so after racking my brain, I continued speaking.

“It’s not my thighs… it’s here… um, well… it’s itchy… and I was wondering if I could scratch it with my hand…?”

Being honest was truly difficult.

After elaborating at length, I closed my mouth. Embarrassed, I lowered my burning face and swallowed a groan.

As I tried to slightly adjust my awkward posture, the Professor watched quietly before letting out a small sigh.

“Then I should teach you how to scratch it.”

“Uh…”

“Actually, I wasn’t sure how to approach this since I don’t know about a Demon God’s sexual desire, but I’m glad I can see it like this.”

I felt slightly dizzy at the Professor’s words.

Is a Demon God’s sexual desire also a research subject? Then am I just another research material right now?

It seemed there was a reason the Academy called me an inventory item.

“Let’s go to the bathroom then?”

“Ca-can’t we do it here…? If we just do it roughly…”

“If we do it roughly, you’ll likely be left wanting more and stay like this.”

The Professor shook their head.

“Of course, some people rub against the floor, but I question whether that’s the right approach…”

There’s a proper method for relieving this too…?

Inwardly astonished, I ultimately decided it was best to follow the Professor’s advice and took their hand.

The Professor took me to the bathroom and taught me something strange.

When I asked to be taught how to scratch the itch, they taught me a different way to feel refreshed. It was a strange feeling.