Saturday morning arrived, and somehow Makoto was still breathing.
The past week had melted together into one endless stretch of desperate work. He'd barely slept, living off instant noodles while frantically trying to refill his empty bank account. The sense of doom hadn't left him once.
Now he stood in the kitchen, making chocolate chip cookies.
It was pathetic, really. This sad attempt at creating some kind of normal, peaceful morning before everything went to hell.
Yuna stomped in like a small gray-haired storm cloud ready to unleash thunder.
Already dressed in those ridiculous unicorn pajamas, she looked ready for war.
"Well, if you have time for loitering around, you can come and give me a hand," Makoto smirked as he mixed the cookie dough, his voice dropping low and suggestive. "Or a mouth."
"Don't you start with me." She jabbed a flour-dusted finger at him.
"I've been up since five in the morning, mentally preparing myself for battle. And you're just making... cookies?"
She scoffed and leaned against the counter with her arms crossed.
But something in her eyes softened just a bit as she watched him work.
"...They smell good," she admitted quietly.
She drifted closer until her hip bumped against his. "Fine. One kiss." A slow grin spread across her face when she noticed his morning wood pressing against his thin sweatpants.
Then she surprised him. She dipped her finger into the bowl of cookie dough, mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Open wide," she said. Her smile could have cut glass.
Makoto leaned in with an affectionate chuckle. "That's unhygienic!"
But he sucked the dough from her fingers anyway, his tongue warm and wet against her skin. "Luckily, I used pasteurized eggs for this batch."
His eyes dropped meaningfully to his obvious arousal. "Mind giving your big bro some help before your friend arrives? Or maybe someone else will..."
Yuna yanked her hand back like she'd touched a hot stove.
Her face went deep red. "Don't be disgusting." Her eyes sparkled despite her words. "And don't you dare go and threaten me with... her."
She checked the wall clock, and that predatory grin returned.
"We have exactly fifteen minutes before she gets here. That's not enough time for a full session."
She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "But..."
Her hand, still sticky with cookie dough, drifted down to brush against the bulge in his sweatpants. "It's just enough time for a quick... taste test."
She looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. "But you have to be quiet. We wouldn't want to wake our neighbors, would we?"
Her fingers curled around him, gripping just a little too tight.
Makoto chuckled confidently. "Indeed, fifteen minutes is a bit short." His eyes sparkled wickedly.
"Well, maybe my little Yuna is worrying that she won't be able to make me cum that fast. I can understand that." He shrugged casually, but the challenge was clear.
Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. The smile stayed on her face, but it turned razor-sharp. "Oh, is that a challenge, onii-chan?" she purred in that fake, high-pitched voice.
She dropped to her knees with practiced grace. Both elegant and predatory.
Her hands found his waistband, fingers brushing his skin. "You think that I can't make you cum in fifteen minutes?"
One swift motion and his sweatpants were down. His erection sprang free, hard and ready. She looked up at him, triumph glittering in her eyes.
"I can make you cum in five," she declared in a dangerous growl.
Her pink tongue darted out, tracing a deliberate path from base to tip. "And you're going to be begging me to stop before I'm done!"
She took him into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she swallowed him whole.
The clock started ticking.
Makoto's hands shook slightly as he slid the cookie tray into the preheated oven.
"Damn it, I have to bake this first," he muttered. The oven's digital display glowed red, counting down to both fresh cookies and his inevitable undoing.
He closed the door, set the timer, then looked down at her.
Yuna looked like pastel chaos against the linoleum floor. Her unicorn pajama top had fallen open as she gazed up at him with slick, parted lips.
The kitchen air grew thick with the sweet smell of raw chocolate dough mixing with the sharper scent of arousal.
Her mouth closed over him, wet heat stealing his breath. Soft lips but firm pressure.
Her tongue immediately went to work, tracing the sensitive ridge with agonizing slowness. He felt every texture, the slight roughness of her taste buds contrasting with all that slick heat.
She smells like sugar and chocolate and something else entirely. Something uniquely her. A faint metallic tang of pure want.
A low hum vibrated from her throat, traveling up through him.
Her hands gripped his base, fingers cold from the kitchen air against his heated skin.
She started bobbing her head in a deliberate rhythm that was both torture and bliss. Wet, obscene sounds filled the quiet kitchen, competing with the oven's gentle whir.
Her soft cheeks pressed against his inner thighs as she took him deeper. Her jaw worked with practiced efficiency.
He felt the gentle suction as she pulled back, lips never breaking contact.
A thin strand of saliva connected them, glistening. When she looked up through her long lashes, her eyes seemed wide and innocent. But fire burned in their depths.
His hand trembled as he stroked her gray twin-tails.
The silky strands felt surreal against the rawness of what she was doing to him. That ridiculous unicorn horn on her hood bobbed with every movement.
Such an absurd detail in this scene of pure lust.
"It feels... amazing, indeed," he groaned.
His hand moved on its own to stroke her hair, patting her head gently. "So how does it taste, Yuna?"
She pulled back with a lewd pop that echoed through the kitchen.
"Salty," she whispered, her voice rough and broken. "And a little... desperate."
That wicked grin spread across her face again. "Just how I like it."