Nobody said anything in the car. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Yuna kept her face turned toward the window, watching the scenery blur past. Her reflection looked pale in the glass.
She had her jaw clenched tight and was gripping the door handle so hard her knuckles had gone white.
In the back seat, Mika stared down at her lap, twisting her hands together nervously.
The engine hummed softly.
That was it. Just that low, steady sound filling up all that charged silence.
He dropped Mika off first. She climbed out and gave him a small, polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Thank you for the ride," Her voice came out a little too bright, like she was forcing it. "And for... everything."
She looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. "I'll text you," she added, and her voice cracked a little on the words.
Then she turned and walked away. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
The silence got even heavier after he pulled away from the curb.
Yuna still hadn't said a single word. She just kept staring out that window, and he couldn't read her expression at all.
Makoto started humming some cheerful, off-key tune.
He figured maybe if he acted normal, things would feel normal. Fat chance of that happening given the disaster his life had turned into, but hey, worth a shot.
"That wasn't so bad," he said. His voice came out too loud in the quiet car.
"I think we can do more running, more often. What do you think, Yuna?" He turned to look at her sweaty body.
It was playful, sure, but also kind of desperate.
Yuna turned her head slowly. Deliberately. Her eyes looked like chips of ice.
"What do I think?" Her voice came out as this low, dangerous growl. "I think you're a fucking idiot."
She leaned across the center console until her face was inches from his. "I think you spent the entire morning drooling over my friend like a Pavlovian dog, and then you had the audacity to invite another girl into our mess."
She was whispering now, but it was venomous. "And now you're asking me if I want to do it again?"
She jabbed her finger into his chest. Hard.
"Let me be perfectly clear."
The snarl in her voice made him want to lean back. "The only reason I'm not gutting you with a butter knife right now is because I don't want to get blood on the car seats."
She leaned back and crossed her arms, fixing her eyes on the road ahead. "And for the record," she said, still using that low, dangerous growl, "you're not allowed to go running with her again. Ever."
She turned to him. Her expression was this wild mixture of lust and confusion that made his head spin. "Understood?"
Makoto groaned. It was a low, noncommittal sound.
Then he leaned in close and kissed her. The kiss was messy and desperate and utterly possessive.
Yuna flinched when he first leaned in. Her hand flew up like she was going to shove him away.
But then her fingers tangled in his shirt instead, and she was kissing him back. It was all teeth and tongue and a whole week's worth of tension finally boiling over.
She kissed him back fiercely, almost violently, her nails digging into his back.
This wasn't affection. This was possession, desperation, and about a thousand things they hadn't said to each other.
When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.
"You're still an idiot," she whispered. Her voice sounded raw and broken. "A big, fat, stupid idiot."
She got out of the car with sharp, jerky movements. "And I'm taking a shower," she announced, using that dangerous growl again. "Alone."
The car door slammed shut, and the sound echoed in the quiet afternoon air.
But as she walked away, she called over her shoulder. "And don't even think about peeking, you fucking pervert."
Was that a threat? A promise? An invitation? Maybe all three.
Makoto shrugged and smiled to himself. He headed to his own bathroom and got in the shower.
After carefully locking the door, he took a clear photo of his fully erect, thick cock and sent it to Mika with a winking emoji.
Makoto: On purpose this time. Your turn.
He stood there in the steamy bathroom with hot water running over his skin.
His heart pounded against his ribs. The little "read" receipt popped up under his photo almost immediately.
Then those three dots appeared. Mika was typing.
The dots vanished. Came back. Vanished again.
The silence stretched on. He was starting to think he'd made a huge mistake when his phone finally buzzed.
It was a video.
Only fifteen seconds long. The quality was grainy, and the camera shook a little.
But it was definitely Mika.
She was in the shower with her hair plastered to her face and water streaming down her body.
She looked right at the camera with this small, shy smile. And she was soaping her breasts.
Her movements were slow and deliberate as her fingers traced lazy circles over her nipples. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.
Those wide, innocent eyes said everything.
The video cut off abruptly. He was left with a racing heart and a painful erection.
Another buzz.
Mika: Your turn again. ;)
Makoto grinned.
Makoto: That looks... nice. I can't wait to get my hands on them.
He sent another short video of himself stroking his thick, veiny cock.
Makoto: Is that to your liking?
Mika's reply came back so fast it made the phone buzz against the shower wall.
Mika: Oh my god. You have no idea.
Those three dots appeared and disappeared frantically.
He could practically see her fumbling with her phone, her fingers slick with soap and something else. Something that looked suspiciously like her own arousal.
Another buzz. Another video.
This one was longer. The camera angle was lower, focused on her stomach and the way water ran over the gentle curve of her belly.
Then her hand appeared, fingers tracing a slow path downward. She moved off-screen for a second, and when her hand came back, it glistened with clear fluid.
Her fingers found her clit. The movements were slow, clumsy, and deliberate.
But her breathing in the background was anything but clumsy.
Short, sharp gasps, each one more desperate than the last. The video ended with a small, choked sob.
Another buzz.
Mika: I'm waiting.
Makoto set his phone in the corner and grinned wickedly.
He stroked himself until he was throbbing, then came all over the floor. He zoomed in on the thick, pearlescent streams.
Makoto: Do you want these in your cunt instead? You're next.
The reply came so fast she must have been waiting with her phone in her hand.
Mika: Yes.
That single word hit him like a punch to the gut.
Pure, raw lust. Another video followed.
This one was shaky and unfocused. The camera pointed at the ceiling tiles beaded with water.
But the audio was crystal clear. Mika's breath came in short gasps mixed with low, desperate moans.
He could hear the slick sound of her fingers working her clit, the soft rhythm of her hand against her thigh.
Then she said his name. "Makoto..."
Her voice was a broken whisper. A desperate plea. Then came a high, thin wail that cut off as the video ended.
Silence. Then one final text.
Mika: Next weekend. The cosplay party. I'm not waiting any longer.