I settled down to sleep.
The professor had zipped up my outfit, so the cat pajamas wouldn't slip down to expose my shoulders. That meant I didn't need to hold them in place.
In the darkened room, the professor was still busy working on something, typing away 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 was almost like 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 on the table. The professor's slightly hunched posture while sipping coffee looked like something you'd commonly see anywhere.
I watched quietly for a while, then twisted my body. Every time the cat pajamas rubbed 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 contorted expression and bounced my body upward once. Despite flopping around on the bed, that ticklish sensation remained.
I knew the cause, but I didn't particularly want to confront it.
It seemed like it would be uncomfortable, and I felt reluctant and somewhat guilty about touching it directly.
And while starting was 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 as when I was washing earlier, but it provided some relief for the itchy area, making things a bit more comfortable.
But only a little.
The first couple of times, I could scratch the itch. But everyone knows that tapping an itchy spot with your finger doesn't provide fundamental relief.
My action of pressing my thighs together and hoping for friction against 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 slipped under the blanket, which added to the 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 it wouldn't, which made it frustrating. I bit my lip hard and twisted my body.
"...Urr?"
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 quickly put out the urgent fire. I scratched the itch with my hand to relieve it, then pulled back the blanket.
The moment of escaping from that stuffy space was refreshingly cool.
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 acted naturally, it wouldn't have seemed strange, but whether my thinking was limited or I was too distracted by these odd feelings to consider that, my face felt hot.
My head didn't seem to be working properly.
"Urr, are you in pain?"
The professor seemed to think I was sick.
Well, I was hurting in a way. It felt like the professor was paying extra attention today. My body seemed to act up at the worst times.
Did being a Demon God mean I couldn't properly resolve these issues?
Clutching the blanket tightly, I drooped my shoulders and confessed the truth.
"...Well, I'm itchy..."
Telling the truth was good, but it was also embarrassing, making it difficult to speak properly.
I wanted to prevent the professor from worrying unnecessarily, but I was concerned this might make me look strange instead.
I pressed my hands, still gripping the blanket, firmly between my legs. I realized that applying pressure could somewhat block the itchiness.
"Itchy? Want me to scratch it for you?"
"N-no, that's okay!"
Scratch it? Where? Here?
I shook my head frantically. 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 my head-shaking, the professor paid no attention 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 a half-embrace.
Extracted 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 forward. I closed my eyes tightly and decided to leave myself to the professor's touch.
Might as well 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 be scratched to relief too? That question arose.
I mumbled. My back was getting relief, but this area wasn't, so I flicked my fingers. Then carefully, I called out to the professor who was scratching my back.
"P-Professor...?"
"Hmm? Should I stop now?"
"No, that's not it..."
I had been hunched over, but now I straightened my back and turned my head slightly. Looking toward where the professor was, I mumbled before gathering my courage to continue.
"Here is... also itchy..."
"Hmm? Where?"
The professor's eyes widened 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.
"H-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 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 pants 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 into the new outfit.
When told to stand up to put on the pants, I hesitated.
If I let this go, 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 favorite cat pajamas again.
So I stopped the professor who was trying to put the dolphin pants on my legs.
"Th-that's not it...!"
When I exclaimed this, 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 pants 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 rambling on, I closed my mouth. Embarrassed, I lowered my flushed face and swallowed a groan.
As I tried to adjust my awkward posture slightly, the professor watched quietly before sighing softly.
"Then I should teach you how to scratch it properly."
"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.
Was a Demon God's sexual desire also a research subject? Then was I just another research material now?
It seemed there was a reason they called me "supplies" at the Academy.
"Let's go to the bathroom then?"
"C-can't we do it here...? Just 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 shocked, 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 shown how to scratch the itch, I was taught a different way to find relief. It was a strange feeling.