The air in the room was thick—warm with the scent of sweat, musk, and something far more potent: longing that had finally found its voice.
Yuki trembled beneath Shin, his breath caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. He wasn't even sure how many times he'd cried out now. Every climax blurred into the next, one wave devouring the other, until all that remained was sensation and surrender.
Shin hadn't stopped. Not even once.
He hovered over Yuki's arched back like a shadow that clung too tightly, one hand braced beside the boy's shoulder, the other tangled in the soft waves of his hair, gripping just tight enough to control, but never to hurt. His hips moved in a steady rhythm, relentless yet patient, as though time meant nothing now—only this did.
Only the feeling of Yuki clenching around him, again and again.
Only the sounds Yuki made—half gasps, half desperate moans.
Only the way their sweat-slicked skin kept meeting, again and again, under the dim light of the bedroom.
Yuki's knuckles were white where he gripped the sheets. His voice was hoarse from crying out, from begging—sometimes for more, sometimes for mercy he didn't mean. Each time Shin pushed deeper, Yuki arched his spine involuntarily, his voice trembling with another fractured moan that echoed off the walls like a secret never meant to be heard.
"Shin… Shin… I—can't," Yuki whimpered.
But Shin didn't answer with words.
His only response was a slow, grinding thrust, so deep and deliberate that Yuki's breath hitched, his legs trembling beneath him. Another wave rolled through his body, violent and beautiful, and Shin watched every second of it with that calm, dark intensity in his eyes—the kind that didn't ask for permission. It claimed.
Yuki collapsed to his elbows, shivering violently as another climax tore through him. The ninth. His body had stopped resisting long ago. He was too far gone, reduced to a soft, pliant mess—completely open, completely vulnerable, completely Shin's.
And yet—Shin still hadn't finished.
Not yet, Shin thought, his jaw clenched. His own climax was close, but he held it back. He always did, when it came to Yuki.
Because this wasn't just about pleasure.
This was about control.
This was about devotion.
This was about watching Yuki fall apart so he could pick him back up—piece by breathless piece.
"You said you couldn't," Shin finally whispered, voice rough with restraint, lips brushing against the back of Yuki's neck. "But you did, didn't you?"
Yuki whimpered in response, too dazed to answer. His body trembled under every stroke, raw and oversensitive, and yet the flutter of his hips told another story—one of craving, of wanting more, even when it hurt. Especially when it hurt.
Shin leaned forward, lips grazing his ear.
"I'll stop," he murmured. "If you ask me to… I'll stop right now."
The words were tender, gentle—yet laced with cruel promise. A pause at the edge of the cliff.
Yuki turned his face slightly, enough that Shin could see the wet shimmer at the corner of his eyes. His lashes trembled.
"…Don't," he whispered.
That was all Shin needed.
His next thrust wasn't slow.
It was deep—hard enough to make Yuki gasp aloud, his entire body jerking forward. Then again. And again.
Shin's hand found Yuki's wrist, pinning it gently to the mattress, fingers lacing together. "You take me so well, Yuki," he breathed into the boy's hair. "Even when you say you can't… you always do."
Yuki sobbed, but it wasn't pain. His eyes fluttered shut, and the tears came freely now—not from sadness, not even from exhaustion, but from the overwhelming flood of everything. The pressure. The surrender. The feeling of being known so intimately that it terrified him and healed him in the same breath.
Every thrust from Shin was a vow.
Every gasp from Yuki was acceptance.
And somewhere in between—something like love.
---
Shin's breath finally stuttered—just once—as he drove deep one last time. A low, guttural sound escaped him, his body tensing above Yuki's trembling form. The moment swelled, sharp and overwhelming, before he gave in to the inevitable.
He spilled into Yuki with a deep groan, pressing his forehead to the back of Yuki's neck. The boy gasped beneath him, his body twitching from the sudden heat filling him, a sensation both startling and strangely comforting.
Yuki barely had time to catch his breath when Shin gently pulled away. Carefully, he turned Yuki over and lifted him with surprising gentleness, placing him beside another figure on the bed—Aiko.
She lay on her back, hair fanned out like a halo, her skin flushed and glistening. Her lips were parted, eyes half-lidded in dreamy bliss. The faint rise and fall of her chest was the only sign that she hadn't passed out entirely. She looked like someone who had danced with a storm—and survived.
Shin leaned in and kissed her temple softly, then stood again, turning toward the two remaining figures at the foot of the bed.
Ai and Rika.
They were still seated close together, flushed, dazed, fingers slick and trembling from their own play. The scent of arousal lingered thick in the air, and Shin's eyes gleamed with playful, wicked promise.
He knelt before them.
Without a word, he reached out and gently took both their hands, stopping their movements. His touch was warm, assertive, and Ai's breath caught.
"W-why both of us?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, her body trembling.
Rika's eyes flicked up. Her lips parted, not in protest, but in soft surrender. "Because he can," she whispered, barely hiding the tremble in her voice—part nerves, part anticipation.
Shin said nothing. He simply moved, guiding them toward the bed where the others lay resting. With careful hands, he eased Rika onto her back, then gently laid Ai on top of her, their fronts pressed together—soft skin meeting soft skin. A quiet gasp escaped Ai's throat as she felt Rika's warmth against her.
And there it was, the autonomous pussy Sandwich.
Their breasts pressed, curves molding together, and Ai instinctively tried to move—but Shin was already over them, his hands keeping them steady.
Rika shivered.
She didn't speak—but her eyes locked with Shin's, full of trust. And something more.
Love.
Ai, meanwhile, kept her gaze averted, her breath quickening. Her body tensed at the contact, but she didn't push away. Not completely. This was Rika, her best friend. There was safety in that… wasn't there?
And yet, the sensation of their skin rubbing—breast to breast, the heated softness of their thighs, even the press of their hips—it was too much. Too confusing.
Shin moved between them, slowly, methodically. His hand slid between Ai's thighs first, coaxing her open just enough. Her moan was soft, reluctant—but genuine. Then he shifted, angling, letting himself slide in slowly—so slowly she gasped.
Ai buried her face into Rika's neck, voice breaking. "Rika… I don't…"
But Rika's arms came up around her, trembling but gentle. "I've got you," she whispered. "I promise."
Then Shin withdrew, only to press into Rika instead—drawing from her a deep, keening moan that Ai felt against her chest.
Back and forth.
In and out.
Their bodies moved in tandem, slick with heat and pressure, pleasure building again. Ai's mind swam with it—confusion, arousal, guilt… and something darker: excitement. The way her body reacted, even as her mind screamed to make sense of it.
They rubbed together in every motion—breasts sliding, lips brushing, hips shifting, soft moans lost between them. Ai's legs trembled as her climax approached again, the heat of Rika beneath her—against her—unavoidable.
And Shin, above and between them, never stopped. His eyes were wild with pleasure, his pace unrelenting. The sandwich of desire between the two girls only seemed to fuel him further.
Rika whimpered softly beneath Ai, gasping each time Shin pressed into her. And yet her hands clung tightly to Ai's waist, as if afraid this fragile moment would end too soon.
Ai didn't understand what she felt. Lust? Shame? Excitement? Disgust?
Maybe all of it.
Maybe more.
But when her climax came, it shattered her thoughts entirely, leaving her a trembling, gasping mess tangled with Rika's equally fragile body.
Shin's hands kept them steady as he drove through his own ecstasy, finally reaching his limit again. The way he groaned—raw and primal—sent shivers through both girls beneath him.
And as Ai collapsed, boneless and breathless, Rika's hand found hers and laced their fingers together.
They didn't speak.
Not yet.
Aiko and Yuki watched from the other side of the bed, barely conscious, too weak to move but too transfixed to look away. Their eyes were glazed over, breath shallow, hearts pounding as if they'd been part of it all too.
And maybe… they had.
---
END OF CHAPTER : 174 : MINE...
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