Neither of them knew how long it had gone on. The two of them had clung to each other like it was the end of the world, riding wave after wave, until finally the last shuddering breath got wrung out and both bodies gave up at the same time — limp, boneless, done. Not even a finger could be moved.
The bedroom was quiet except for the heavy, uneven duet of their breathing. The air itself felt saturated with sex — thick and honey-slow, that unmistakable post-coital humidity you couldn't scrub out of a room even if you cracked every window. The sheets underneath them were a disaster zone: dark spreading stains of her slick, pale smears of his cum leaking out where they were still joined, a wet patch the size of a dinner plate soaked cold beneath her thigh.
Yūto Shō finally opened the eyes he'd kept squeezed shut, blinking down at the girl he'd absolutely wrecked. Sato Ruri lay there in a boneless sprawl, glassy-eyed, cheeks blazing with that unmistakable afterglow that hentai artists spend entire careers trying to replicate. Her mouth had fallen slightly open, red and swollen from being kissed and bitten, a delicate string of saliva connecting her lower lip to the pillow.
An unhinged wave of satisfaction crested through his chest — the kind of achievement-unlocked feeling you get after clearing a boss fight on hard mode. He watched her breathing, watched those beautiful lips parted and slack.
He leaned in and pressed a finger to her mouth. On pure reflex, drugged senseless with pleasure, she took his finger between her lips and started to suck.
Yūto Shō pulled his finger back. And swapped in something else.
The dazed girl, still floating somewhere on cloud nine, kept sucking and licking obediently, mouth working with the same soft, greedy little motions.
A few seconds passed. Then a few more. Something registered as wrong through the haze — the texture, the girth, the heat of it filling her mouth was suddenly all wrong. Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes cracked open.
Her big beautiful eyes went completely round in horror as she registered what — whose — she was currently servicing with her tongue.
"Mmph — nnh—!"
The reaction was pure shame, complete mortification — but there wasn't a single ounce of strength left in her body to pull away. Worse, some traitorous part of her, still drunk on pleasure, actually kept moving her tongue, kept swirling around him with the same soft, submissive motions, and — mortifyingly — some sick little corner of her chest felt satisfied doing it.
...
"Kah — koff—"
"P… pervert. Y-you absolute pervert."
The flushed girl wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, muttering under her breath. Her dark eyes were still glossy with embarrassment, and her throat worked as she swallowed — actually swallowed everything down like a good girl, because she hadn't been given a choice.
Yūto Shō, meanwhile, was staring at a new prompt that had just materialized in his vision, running through the fork in the road.
Path One: The girl has been thoroughly terrified by you and realizes if she doesn't leave tonight, she might not make it out alive. You, however, aren't remotely satisfied yet and want to torment her all night. Force her to stay.
Path Two: To avoid tipping off her family, personally escort her home. But of course, being the little demon lord you are, you won't leave things clean. Watching her utterly ravaged state, a diabolical idea sparks — use the contraceptive pill as leverage. Forbid her from showering. Send her home with all of your genetic material still inside her.
Honestly, Yūto Shō's first pick was Path One — he wanted to keep her here and put her through another six rounds, minimum. But if Sato Ruri didn't come home tonight, her family would immediately go into full JoJo investigation mode. The interrogation afterward would be brutal, and there was a very real chance his existence would get exposed.
After weighing it, he ditched Path One. Which left him one option only: full degenerate mode.
Sato Ruri, meanwhile, had finished swallowing and only then processed what she'd just done. Her face flooded scarlet, humiliation and fury battling for territory. Then she looked up and saw Yūto Shō still standing there fully at attention, cock glistening and hard and looming, and a genuine bolt of fear went through her.
The girl was scared now.
She couldn't even remember how many times he'd bullied her tonight. Her lower body was one continuous throb of raw, stretched-out ache. Her limbs felt like overcooked ramen. Lifting a finger was a whole quest.
The realization hit her like a truck-kun cameo: she absolutely could not survive another round. On top of that, if she didn't get home soon, her family would launch a search party. She scrambled to sit up, wincing.
"I have to go home. My mom's going to worry if I'm gone any longer."
Yūto Shō, having already picked Path Two, put on a beautifully rehearsed reluctant sigh, looking down at the scared girl with wolfish concern. "Fine. I'll take you home. But… Ruri, I put a lot in you just now. Are you really going to be okay?"
"A lot in—?" She paused, then flushed a deeper red, embarrassed but pragmatic. "I'll go take a shower first. Can I use your bathroom?"
We literally just did every position in the KamaSutra together and she's still asking permission to use my bathroom. Yūto Shō almost laughed out loud, but he held the concerned expression together. "That's not what I meant. I mean — I came so much inside you. What if you get pregnant?"
The word hit her like a critical strike. Her jaw dropped. She stared at Yūto Shō like he'd just pulled the pin on a grenade.
Pregnant. Right. Of course. When a guy came inside you, you got pregnant. Everyone knew that. That was, like, day-one health class knowledge. Girls whispered about that horror story constantly. How had she — how had she — completely forgotten that?
Panic sliced through her exhaustion. She turned on him, cheeks puffed with outrage. "This is your fault! Why did you put so much in me?!"
"Because you were just so cute, Ruri. I couldn't help it," Yūto Shō said, laying on the sheepish charm like whipped cream on a parfait.
The girl froze. Somehow — inexplicably — she wasn't angry. Her face just went pinker. She veered the conversation away, voice climbing with urgency. "Just — think of something. Fast."
First time with a guy. First time getting an unholy amount of cum dumped in her. First real threat of pregnancy. She was in full crisis-mode, and on pure instinct her brain latched onto Yūto Shō as the closest available adult, even though he was one hundred percent the cause of the crisis.
"Relax," Yūto Shō said smoothly, deploying his final trap card. "There's a pill that prevents pregnancy. As it happens, I've got one right here." He produced the Perfect Contraceptive from the drawer with the flourish of a magician revealing an ace.
Sato Ruri blinked at it, cheeks flushing again — this time from a whole different feeling. Then she narrowed her eyes at him with a glare that could've curdled milk. "So you had this the entire time?! You had this planned?!"
Her tone, though — it wasn't actually that furious. More performative. She reached for the pill.
Yūto Shō pulled his hand back.
"Why won't you give it to me?" she asked, confused.
"I mean," Yūto Shō said, tilting the pill between his fingers like a coin trick, "I bought this myself. It cost me money. If Ruri wants it… shouldn't there be some kind of payment?"
He'd expected fury. Explosion. Slap. What he got instead was a resigned little sigh and a look that basically said of course this is happening. She stared at him with weary eyes. "What do you want me to do now?"
Yūto Shō's eyebrows shot up. She'd absolutely clocked his patterns.
But he'd already opened his mouth. He hesitated, then decided the mission came first.
"If you promise to only shower after you get home, I'll give you the pill."
Even knowing this guy was capable of anything, hearing that request out loud still made her physically recoil. She stared at him like he'd sprouted horns, tail, and a fresh dossier at the Hague. Her face turned tomato red with fury.
"You — you — you absolute pervert! No, that's not strong enough — you're a hentai-tier degenerate!"
"Take it or leave it," Yūto Shō said with the shameless calm of a final boss. "Pregnancy, or my little request. Your pick." In her eyes he was already an irredeemable animal, so what was one more depravity on the pile?
Seeing his expression, the girl gave him one long, wounded look. Then her eyes flicked to the pill in his hand. Back to his face. Back to the pill. The battle inside her was clearly ferocious — pride versus terror, decency versus self-preservation. In the end, fear won.
She gave him a stiff, hateful little nod.
Yūto Shō grinned like he'd hit a jackpot. He hadn't factored it in before, but the thought of this girl walking home carrying his genetic contribution still deep inside her — his everything still smeared through her, dripping down her thighs as she walked past strangers on the sidewalk — hit him with a fresh wave of dark, filthy satisfaction. Yeah. That worked for him. That worked for him a lot.
Once she'd choked down the pill Yūto Shō handed her, a huge weight lifted off Sato Ruri's chest. She shot him one final withering look and got up, wobbling toward her clothes.
Yūto Shō followed.
She got dressed with grit teeth, and it was clear from the way she moved that walking was a nightmare. Every step made her suck in a sharp little breath through her teeth. She refused Yūto Shō's help outright — either out of pure spite or out of dread of being spotted by anyone in this state. Probably both.
Her uniform skirt fell over her thighs and she winced. She could feel it already — the slow, obscene trickle of him leaking out of her, sliding warm down her inner thigh, catching on the fabric of her panties. Every single step made another slow drip find its way lower. It felt like carrying a shameful little secret between her legs, one that got heavier with every meter.
He said not to clean up. He said to walk home like this. Her ears burned. She'd agreed. She'd actually agreed.
They took the elevator down. By the time they hit the ground floor, her legs were shaking. The distance from his apartment building to the outer gate of the complex suddenly looked like the Silk Road.
She hesitated, and Yūto Shō — reading the situation — said, "I'll carry you on my back."
Before she could refuse, he was already crouched in front of her, arms braced back, waiting like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sato Ruri froze. She stared down at the back of his head — the messy dark hair, the pale nape, the broad shoulders that had been holding her down not an hour ago — and something in her face softened despite itself. She hesitated one more beat. Then, cheeks glowing pink under the harsh fluorescent lobby light, she leaned forward and settled onto his back. Her arms looped loosely around his neck. Her cheek came to rest against the warm plane of his shoulder.
Feeling his body heat bleed through his shirt into her cheek, her heart did an involuntary somersault. Something inside her went unbearably soft — dangerously soft — the kind of soft she really, really didn't want to examine too closely tonight.