The moment Makoto disappeared into the hallway, the cheerful energy in the kitchen evaporated.
A thick, charged silence took its place. The only sounds were the soft ticking of the oven timer and the rustling of shopping bags on the table.
Mika didn't move from her spot against the counter. Her sweet smile was gone, replaced by a cool, appraising look.
Yuna stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, her expression smug and defiant. Two predators sizing each other up.
"Well," Yuna said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice had dropped to a purr.
She walked to the dining table and rummaged through one of the bags, pulling out a yellow tailor's tape measure. She let it unfurl, the plastic strip slithering to the floor with a soft hiss.
Then she snapped it taut between her hands. The sound cracked like a whip.
"Alright, Mika," Yuna said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Let's get your measurements." She stalked toward Mika, holding the tape measure like a weapon. "Strip!"
Makoto brought the heavy sewing machine to the living room, looking almost guilty. "Strip? Really? Can't she just do it over her clothes?" he muttered to himself.
Mika didn't even flinch. A slow, devastating smile spread across her face.
"Of course," she said, amused. "We have to get precise measurements, don't we?"
Her gaze flicked over Yuna's shoulder, directly to where Makoto was peeking from the hallway. She held his gaze for a fraction of a second, a silent challenge in her eyes.
Then, with deliberate grace, she reached behind her back.
The zipper on her sundress made a soft buzzing sound as it descended. She shrugged her shoulders, and the dress pooled at her feet.
Underneath, she wore the scandalous black, strappy lingerie. The one she had sent to Makoto in the picture. The one designed to make Yuna lose her mind.
Yuna's smug expression faltered. Her jaw tightened, something flickering in her eyes before she schooled her features back into professional coldness.
"Stand still," Yuna snapped, her voice sharper than intended.
She stepped forward, the tape measure cold and impersonal as she wrapped it around Mika's bust.
Her knuckles brushed against the warm skin above the lace.
"Thirty-four C," Yuna muttered grudgingly. "Pathetic!"
Makoto gulped, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding before him.
The tape measure snaked around Mika's waist, Yuna's movements sharp and efficient.
"Twenty-five inches," Yuna announced flatly. She was all business now, professional in the face of a well-played attack.
Mika, however, was anything but professional. In black lace, she was watching Yuna with cool amusement, as if this was all just some elaborate game.
"You're very thorough," Mika said softly. "He must appreciate that."
Yuna's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. She didn't look up. "He appreciates a job well done," she said tightly. "And nothing more."
She moved to measure Mika's hips, her fingers brushing against the thin strappy fabric. "Thirty-six inches," she muttered, her voice strained.
She pulled the tape measure away with a sharp snap. "Done," she said curtly. "You can put your clothes back on now."
Makoto waited until they had finished, then cleared his throat as he walked in.
"Ahem, your sewing machine is here, Yuna."
He walked to the cooling rack and put the freshly baked cookies on a plate. "Let's try some before we start. I hope you like my cookies, Mika."
Mika slipped her sundress back on smoothly, the picture of innocence once more. But her smile was anything but.
"Thank you, Makoto," she said, slightly breathless. "I'd love one."
She reached for a cookie, but Yuna's hand shot out like a snake and snatched the plate away.
"Let me," Yuna said with false sweetness. She plucked a cookie from the plate and held it up to Mika's lips. "Say 'ah.'"
Mika's eyes flickered with amusement. She played along, opening her mouth with a soft, delicate "Ah."
Yuna popped the cookie into her mouth.
"Good girl," Yuna murmured, her thumb brushing against Mika's bottom lip in a gesture both intimate and deeply condescending.
Then Yuna turned to him. She broke another cookie in half, wickedness in her eyes. "Your turn, big bro," she said.
She held the broken piece up to his mouth.
"Or," she whispered, her eyes darting to Mika, then back to him, "do you want me to pre-chew it for you this time?"
Makoto took a bite, his movements slow and deliberate. "I can eat it by myself, thank you."
He chewed, then gently, almost reverently, sucked her fingers. "Hmm, it's delicious. You should try it, too."
His eyes glinted mischievously as he held a piece with his mouth, then leaned in.
Yuna's face exploded in a furious blush. "W-what are you doing, you pervert?!" she sputtered, her eyes darting nervously toward Mika, who was watching with deep amusement.
The tables had been turned, and Yuna was now on the spot.
For a second, she looked like she was going to slap him. But then competitive fire ignited in her eyes. Backing down in front of Mika wasn't an option.
"Fine," she hissed. She leaned in, movements sharp and predatory.
She didn't take a delicate bite. She lunged, her mouth closing over the cookie and his lips in a messy, aggressive, possessive kiss.
Her teeth scraped against his lips, and her tongue darted out, stealing the cookie from his mouth with a proprietary swipe.
She pulled back, chewing defiantly, a smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. "Delicious," she declared loudly.
Mika let out a soft, musical giggle. She picked up a cookie herself and took a delicate bite. "They are very good," she said, eyes sparkling.
She looked from Yuna's flushed, triumphant face to his slightly dazed one.
"But I think they might taste even better," Mika murmured suggestively, "if you were to feed me again, Makoto. Properly, this time."
Makoto cleared his throat. "Ahem, mouth-feeding is my little stepsister's privilege, Mika."
Mika's eyes sparkled dangerously. "A special privilege, just for her?" she murmured with amusement.
He put a broken piece of cookie in his palm, then offered it near her chin instead. "But, for you... Here. Open up."
She leaned forward, not to take a bite, but to lower her head. Her soft hair brushed against his wrist.
Her tongue, pink and wet, darted out and licked the cookie crumbs from his palm.
Her movements were slow, deliberate, and incredibly sensual. It wasn't a peck; it was a long, lingering taste, her eyes locked on his the entire time. The soft, wet drag of her tongue against his skin sent a jolt straight to his groin.
"ENOUGH!"
Yuna exploded. She lunged forward and slapped his hand away, sending the remaining cookie crumbs scattering across the floor.
Her face was pure fury.
"What are you, a fucking dog?" she snarled at Mika.
She grabbed his wrist like a vise and yanked him away from Mika.
She positioned herself between them, a human shield of possessive rage. "He is not your owner," Yuna hissed.
She glared at Mika, who was now calmly licking a stray smudge of chocolate from her thumb, utterly innocent.
Yuna took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain control.
"Get to work," she snarled, pointing a trembling finger toward the dining table laden with fabric. "Both of you. Now!"
Makoto chuckled. "Fine, fine, it seems that play time is over."
He patted Yuna's head and followed her to the pile of fabric. "Is this your first time doing this, Mika? Don't worry, it's only my second time, too."
Mika gave him a sweet, innocent smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, I'm a very fast learner," she said softly.
"Especially when I have a good teacher." Her gaze lingered on him a second too long, a silent challenge.
Yuna was all business. Or trying to be.
"Right," she said tightly. "Marin's uniform is simple. A pleated skirt, a blouse, and a tie. You can't mess this up."
She shoved a pile of plaid fabric into Mika's arms, movements sharp and jerky. "You can start with the skirt," she commanded.
She turned to Mako, her expression a mixture of lust and desperate confusion.
"And you," she said with false sweetness, "are with me."
She grabbed a piece of black lace, her fingers tracing the delicate pattern. "We're starting with the lingerie," she announced. "And you're going to help me with the... ahem... fit."