Sayuri's skin still hummed from the memory of Elira's hands, from the lingering sting of her bites, the way her lips had left marks across the curve of her neck and chest. The morning sunlight was sharp, warm against her bare shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the heat lingering in her veins, in her pulse, in the sudden tightness of her chest when she caught sight of Elira lounging on the sofa. Elira's back was bare, stretching long and smooth into the curve of her spine, the soft rise and fall of her shoulder blades mesmerizing. Stray strands of hair fell like black silk over her skin, catching the sun in a way that made every nerve ending in Sayuri's body ache with longing.
She wanted to reach out, to trace the length of her back, to feel the warmth again, but restraint held her frozen. Every instinct screamed to close the space between them, to melt into her, to surrender again. She stepped closer despite herself, drawn by gravity she could not fight. Elira's dark eyes lifted lazily, capturing hers with a hunger that made her breath hitch. The corner of her lips quirked in a faint smirk—possessive, teasing, and utterly consuming.
"Elira…" Her voice was low, trembling. Just the sound made Elira shift slightly, just enough for Sayuri to feel the charged pull in the air. Elira's hand twitched, a mere shadow of a touch, but it was enough to send shivers racing down her spine. Her own skin felt electric, alive. Her pulse pounded, her body trembling not from cold but from the heat of anticipation, of remembered desire, of something raw and unrelenting between them.
"Good morning," Elira murmured, voice a velvet challenge. It held promise, hunger, the memory of the night before wrapped in softness. Sayuri's chest tightened. She couldn't speak, couldn't respond properly. Instead, she let her body move, inching closer, drawn like a moth to the flame she knew could consume her entirely.
Then the sound of the front door opening cut through the charged air. Asan's presence made her freeze. His eyes immediately caught hers, then traveled down, taking in the subtle but undeniable evidence of last night—the dark blooms scattered across her neck, the swell of her chest, the way her robe fell slightly off her shoulder. His expression was careful, concerned, yet edged with something sharper.
"Sayuri…are you okay?" His voice was soft but tense, carrying a mix of concern and judgment that made her stomach twist. She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze. She couldn't meet his eyes. How could she explain? How could she tell him about the fire and longing, about the passion that was hers and Elira's alone?
"I… I'm fine," she whispered, fragile and unsure. Asan's eyes didn't move from her, unwavering, and his voice hardened ever so slightly. "You don't look fine."
The knot in her throat tightened, refusing to release. She let her gaze drop to the floor, chest rising and falling rapidly, every nerve screaming, every memory of Elira before her at high school, the stolen touches, the kisses in the shadows, flooding her mind. The pulse of desire from the night before echoed through her, a relentless reminder that the past was never gone—it had simply waited, silent and waiting for her to remember.
Elira's gaze softened slightly, but the smirk remained. She reached out, letting her fingers brush Sayuri's arm, just grazing the skin, eliciting an involuntary shiver that ran through her core. "Ignore him," she whispered, voice low, possessive, "he doesn't know what he's talking about."
Sayuri shivered under the touch, her chest rising and falling, her knees threatening to buckle. She wanted to lean into Elira, wanted to press her mouth to hers and reclaim every inch of intimacy, every lingering mark that made her ache. But Asan remained in the doorway, tension in his stance, concern etching his sharp features.
The doorbell rang, a sharp intrusion into the stillness, and Elira's eyes narrowed. She knew. She had been expecting this, the subtle disruption that threatened the fragile world of their morning. Sayuri's stomach dropped as Asan's voice followed: "She's here. Mai."
The name made the air between them shiver. Sayuri's pulse quickened, a mixture of dread and curiosity. Elira's body stiffened, a subtle twitch of possessiveness that made Sayuri instinctively reach for her, grounding herself against the storm of emotion.
The door opened, and there she was—Mai. Tall, poised, moving with a grace that made the room itself feel smaller, the air thicker. Her hair fell in soft waves of brown-black, framing her face like silk. Her eyes—violet, almost otherworldly—seemed to hold both curiosity and an unspoken challenge. She carried herself like a goddess, a presence that made Sayuri's heart race and her body ache.
Asan stepped aside, gesturing toward the room. "Mai…this is Sayuri. And…Elira." His voice was careful, wary, but something in it betrayed his hope that this meeting would go smoothly.
Mai's gaze flicked between them, lingering on Sayuri first, then Elira. Her eyes widened slightly—not in shock, but in fascination. She blinked once, and her lips curved in a tiny, almost imperceptible smile. Sayuri felt it—the shift in energy, the electricity of observation, the subtle claim of attention.
She tried to step forward, offer a polite greeting, but her voice caught. Her pulse roared in her ears. Her mind flared with confusion, admiration, something deeper that made her cheeks flush. And then, as she glanced down, she saw the faint trails of marks across Sayuri's neck, the subtle bite marks lingering on her chest, and her eyes widened, a faint flush spreading across her face.
Elira's smirk deepened, noticing every reaction. "You like what you see?" she asked, voice low, teasing, her fingers brushing against Sayuri's hand, possessive and grounding. Sayuri's knees threatened to buckle, shivering at the heat of her touch.
Mai's flush deepened. She hesitated, lips parting slightly, and Sayuri felt the room shrink, the tension snapping tighter around them like a drawn wire. Every glance, every brush of skin, every deliberate movement held unspoken desire and challenge. Sayuri and Elira were a storm, and Mai had just stepped into the eye of it.