Yūto Shō held the girl close, kissing her over and over, drinking down her breath like a man dying of thirst. His tongue pushed past her lips, sweeping through every corner of her mouth before coaxing her shy pink tongue out to play.
Amusingly, Sato Ruri's body went rigid at first — but under the relentless coaxing of his tongue, her eyes glazed over like a heroine in a shoujo confession scene. Then her little pink tongue actually began to answer him back, tangling clumsily, awkwardly, but with a tender sincerity all its own.
At the same time, the girl swayed her hips in the gentlest rhythm, matching that mischievous hand still rubbing beneath her lower belly.
Faced with her cooperation, Yūto Shō was honestly caught off guard for a beat, genuinely surprised. Two days apart, and Sato Ruri had gone full "yandere-ready-to-imprint" on him.
Then he remembered the two signatures he'd stamped onto her — of course. That had to be it.
…
Originally, Yūto Shō had planned to use the signature's ten-day window to train the girl into obedience at his own pace. But it seemed he'd underestimated the raw wattage of the lust marker. Less than forty-eight hours in, her body was already tuned to him like a Pavlovian bell — one soft touch and she was gone.
Or maybe it was because the girl had been quietly getting herself off at home these past two nights?
If that was the case, the whole plan needed a rewrite.
The thought flashed through Yūto Shō's mind, and a spark of excitement flared behind his eyes.
He kept savoring her petal-soft lips, but his hand slipped beneath her clothes, gliding over her flat belly, then dipping down through the gap between skirt and skin, palm settling right over the signature branded low on her stomach. He caressed it slowly.
Sato Ruri's knees turned to jelly, and on pure instinct, she clung to Yūto Shō like a lifeline.
She could feel his large hand kneading her belly. That burning palm carried some kind of Death Note-level magic — the stimulation was so intense her pupils blew wide and her thoughts scattered like static, leaving her drifting somewhere weightless and untethered.
….
As the hand kept working her, the fire coiled inside her boiled higher and higher, rising toward a scorching peak.
The girl couldn't help but press her thighs together, feeling as though one more stroke would send her flying straight into the stratosphere.
Then — abruptly — that troublesome hand withdrew from her lower abdomen and slid out from beneath her skirt.
For a moment, her heart hollowed out. A flash of dissatisfaction crossed her flushed face. She opened her hazy eyes, delicate brows knitting together as she glared at Yūto Shō, scolding him without words for stopping right there.
Yūto Shō just watched her with a playful, cat-that-caught-the-canary smirk.
Sato Ruri froze. Then, all at once, reality crashed back in and her whole face said "wait, what did I just do?" like a protagonist realizing they'd been isekai'd into their own worst decision. She stared at him a long moment, hesitated, then puffed her cheeks and hissed, "Pervert! Molester!"
"Isn't it a little late for name-calling now?" Yūto Shō said with a lazy smile.
Sato Ruri's pretty face paled, lips pressing into a wounded pout, her big beautiful eyes starting to shimmer with tears.
Seeing that, Yūto Shō reached out again and pressed his palm to her lower abdomen through the fabric of her skirt. The girl who'd looked one blink away from crying suddenly let out a kittenish little whimper, face flushing as she glared at him with all the fury of a wet Pikachu. Her teary eyes carried zero intimidation — if anything, they made her look painfully cute.
"Do you want me to touch you?" Yūto Shō asked, smiling.
"No, gross!" The girl huffed and turned her head away, but her breathing had gone visibly ragged, her hands balled into fists at her sides, like she was riding out some unbearable itch.
Yūto Shō's eyes flicked mischievously, and he let out a mock-sigh. "Well, if you don't want it, I won't do it."
He started to pull his hand back — and the girl, mid-bliss, panicked on instinct, reaching out to slam his hand right back down against her lower belly.
The second her body finished moving without her permission, she went stiff, mortification hitting like a truck-kun.
"Looks like you really do like it." Yūto Shō grinned and began rubbing her belly again. The girl let out a soft moan, shyly squeezing her eyes shut, her tempting little mouth falling open in a cute, breathy gasp.
Yūto Shō watched her face grow prettier by the second. And just as she edged toward that peak again — just as she was about to helplessly hum out loud in the middle of the classroom — he pulled his hand away.
"No—!" The girl's eyes flew open and she grabbed at his hand in desperation, face full of hunger and frustration. In that single moment, whatever dignity she still had went out the window like a dropped ramen bowl.
"This body of hers is dangerously sensitive."
Yūto Shō sighed inwardly, quietly savoring the win — but he shook his head with cool cruelty anyway.
…
Seeing her devastated expression, Yūto Shō asked, "Still want me to touch your belly?"
Sato Ruri looked at him with big, pitiful eyes and nodded.
Is she actually lucid right now, or completely gone?
With that thought, Yūto Shō leaned close to her ear and murmured, "Then come home with me after school. Once we're there, I won't just touch you — I'll lick you too."
Sato Ruri's cheeks flared crimson, and she instinctively swallowed. She was half a heartbeat from nodding yes when reality crashed back in — her actual relationship with Yūto Shō. This was Danger Zone territory. Full-on red alert.
But Yūto Shō didn't wait for her answer. He turned and walked off without a backward glance, already knowing that from this point on, the girl would only get hungrier, more desperate, more hopelessly caught in the net.
…
Watching him leave without hesitation, Sato Ruri bit her lip, quietly aggrieved.
…
Afternoon class was a lost cause. Sato Ruri sat in a daze, not registering a single syllable from the teacher. Her lower belly still burned and itched, the phantom of that big hand kneading her at noon lingering like a ghost, leaving her tangled somewhere between longing and shame.
She lowered her head and, while no one was watching, poked her lower belly with the tip of her pen. It was a little comforting — but mostly hollow, easily a hundred times worse than the real thing Yūto Shō had given her at lunch.
For the past two weekends, whenever the heat came over her, she'd always taken care of it herself. But that trick didn't seem to work anymore. Even these past two days, most of the time she'd come down from her peak still unsatisfied, achingly missing the sensation of Yūto Shō's broad, greedy hand.
Which was exactly why, at noon, he'd been able to tease her apart and dismantle her so effortlessly.
…
Half in a trance, she barely survived until the final bell. The instant it rang, Sato Ruri's eyes darted toward Yūto Shō on reflex, brimming with unspoken longing, silently begging him to come over and bully her the way he used to.
But Yūto Shō didn't even glance her way. He stood up and walked out of the classroom.
Sato Ruri's chest ached with grievance. She slumped weakly onto her desk, burying her flaming face in her arms, gritting her teeth against the unbearable itch clawing at her lower belly.
But as the minutes dragged on, the girl felt worse and worse — as if a thousand tiny bugs were gnawing beneath her skin, crawling everywhere she couldn't reach.
And in that moment, Sato Ruri remembered exactly what Yūto Shō had whispered at noon:
"After school, come home with me. Once we're there, I won't just touch you — I'll lick you too."
The girl's resolve dissolved on the spot. Unable to endure the desperate call of her own body a second longer, she shot up from her seat and chased after him without hesitation, leaving the classmates who hadn't left yet staring in stunned silence as she bolted out the door.