Suddenly, Yuna flopped back with a dramatic sigh, spreading her arms along the tub's rim. The water sloshed around her, showing off the faint, purplish marks he'd left on her breasts.
"Fine. You want the Just Yuna experience? That's one-fifty a session. Basic." She wiggled her toes above the water, the picture of a bored businesswoman. "But no costumes means no pretending you're not railing your actual stepsister, you degenerate."
One hundred and fifty thousand yen (~1000$)? The price was insane. But the real cost was stripping away his last defense.
"No Ganyu. No Klee. Just Yuna. His stepsister." The thought was both terrifying and electrifying.
"What the hell? One-fifty?" he growled, a desperate, last-ditch attempt to bargain. "It's not like you need to pre-order a Yuna cosplay!"
He surged forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her in for a deep, greedy kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth, a desperate, possessive act.
"See?" his mind screamed, a chaotic mess of lust and denial. "This should be totally free…"
Yuna melted into the kiss for a dangerous second. Her lips parted, her tongue tangling with his in the warm water.
But just as his hand began to slide down her wet, slippery body, she bit his lip. Hard.
"OW! What the..." Makoto groans.
She pulled back, grinning like a shark. He could taste his own blood. "That was a 50k kiss, big bro."
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, but the flush on her face betrayed her own arousal. "Affectionate services are premium."
Her legs snapped shut like a steel trap, catching his wandering hand between her thighs. "No freebies. Especially not..."
Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper, each word a cold, hard slap. "...after you spent two hours fucking your little stepsister dressed as a child character."
She stood up abruptly, water streaming off her naked body. The sight was breathtaking. She looked incredible, and she looked pissed. "One hundred fifty thousand. Take it or leave it."
She stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a towel with a final, dismissive flick. "Or I'll tell mom you tried to get discounts on my cunt."
Makoto stared at her, his mind a chaotic mess of lust, frustration, and a strange, twisted admiration for her sheer nerve.
He was totally owned. And to his eternal shame, he was still undeniably, throbbingly hard.
"Fine, fine," he sighed, a white flag of surrender. He turned away, using the rising steam to hide his renewed erection. "I'll save up for it. Now get dressed so we can go eat."
As they walked to the steakhouse, a tense, charged silence hung between them.
The intimacy of the bath was gone, replaced by the cold reality of their transactional relationship. But the raw, physical pull between them remained.
Makoto leaned in close, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper.
He had to reclaim some control, to suggest something even crazier than she had. "So, for the service," he began, "can we do… sleep sex? With you pretending to be surprised and crying when you wake up?"
Yuna stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. For a split second, she looked genuinely horrified. Then, that horror melted into pure, unholy glee.
"Holy SHIT, big bro," she breathed, a low whistle escaping her lips. "You really are the worst."
She linked her arm through his again, her grip tight and possessive. Her voice dropped to a whisper that smelled of candy and sin. "Sleep assault roleplay? With tears?"
Her grin could curdle milk. "That should be 200k minimum."
As they entered the steakhouse, she leaned in close, her voice rising just enough for the hostess to hear. "Oh! And we'll need to do it in my bedroom for full authenticity, right?"
She beamed at the horrified hostess, her expression a mask of pure, innocent delight. "Don't worry, he's just my brother! We're SUPER close."
Makoto wanted to die. He wanted the polished floor of the steakhouse to open up and swallow him whole, again, the third time this month.
Instead, he just nodded numbly, a silent, damning confirmation. He ordered them the most expensive steaks and desserts on the menu, a desperate attempt to appease the little succubus currently clinging to his arm.
"Fine, fine," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "Money isn't the problem. Maybe."
He couldn't meet her eyes. A flicker of something, guilt, maybe, made him add, "But if you're… uncomfortable with that, we don't have to do it."
Yuna stabbed her steak with unnecessary force, grinning around a mouthful of perfectly cooked wagyu. "Uncomfortable? Pfft."
She waved her fork dismissively. "I literally just let you rawdog me in a Klee costume for three hours."
Her foot found his under the table, a rare, almost-sincere touch.
"Look," she said, her voice dropping, her eyes darting around. "If we're gonna be disgusting, let's at least be honest about it."
She leaned in, her voice a low, seductive promise. "Two hundred thousand yen will get you a session of consensual sleep assault roleplay, tears, and I'll wear my actual middle school pajamas."
She sat back with a smirk as the waiter passed, her voice rising to a cheerful, innocent tone. "Extra whipped cream on my dessert, please! Gotta replenish my energy after all that family bonding."
Makoto gulped. The steak suddenly tasted like cardboard. "Really?" he managed, his voice a choked whisper. "That middle school pajama set? Can it even still fit you?"
He immediately regretted the question, the sheer, pathetic eagerness in his voice.
He turned away, pretending to take a long sip of water. "Not that I'm looking forward to it or anything," he added, the lie so thin it was transparent. "Just… checking. Yeah, just curious."
Yuna's grin turned wicked. "Oh, I've got proof." She whipped out her phone, tapped a few times, and slid it across the table.
On the screen was a grainy photo of a younger, flatter Yuna, maybe sixteen, wearing a pair of bunny-print pajamas.
"Still fits," she sang. "A little tight in the chest now, but..." She wiggled her eyebrows, the lewd promise hanging in the air.
Then she snatched his water glass, downed the whole thing, and slammed it back on the table.
"Oh yeah, you're so not looking forward to it," she mocked, pitching her voice high to imitate him. "I'm just curious...!" she squeaked.
"'Must be curious about shoving your dick in your sleeping little stepsister while she wears her childhood PJs!' Totally normal brotherly concern!"
A nearby couple, who had been enjoying a quiet anniversary dinner, choked on their food. Yuna beamed at them, her smile a terrifyingly sweet, innocent thing. "Don't worry! We're very close siblings!"