Ayame's boldness escalated as she leaned closer, her fingers sliding provocatively beneath the edge of Akihiro's kimono.
The instant her hand made contact, a jolt of heat shot through him, his muscles tensing involuntarily. His breath hitched sharply, caught between panic and a rush of sensation he had been fighting to control.
Her touch was deliberate, exploring, warm, and impossibly sensitive. Every brush of her fingers sent shivers up his spine, his skin prickling under the pressure.
Years of forced celibacy made her touch intoxicating. Every part of his body wanted to unleash the wildness he'd kept buried.
He was already a grown man when he landed in this world. And since then, years had passed without a single intimate touch. Ayame's contact, however subtle, hit hard — like every nerve in his body had been starved.
All he wanted was to react, to unleash the wildness he'd kept buried for far too long.
He felt the weight of her gaze on him, the mischievous tilt of her lips, and the intoxicating scent of her perfume mingling with the closeness of her body.
She no longer hid the desire in her eyes. It was clear, physical — and he knew he wouldn't hold out for long.
It was lethal.
"Such… impressive strength," she whispered, her voice low and teasing, yet laced with genuine admiration.
She lowered her hand, fingers brushing along the surface, searching for something long and solid — something that might give her the upper hand in this playful standoff.
Her fingers curled around him with deliberate attention, stroking, squeezing, each movement amplifying the storm of heat and tension coiling inside him.
Ayame's eyes widened in surprise, and her voice slipped out—soft, velvety, and laced with intrigue.
"Truly… a majestic huge... dragon."
Akihiro's mind spun, a chaotic mix of embarrassment, desire, and disbelief.
Damn it… this is exactly what I feared. One touch, and I'm…
He could feel the pulse of his own body, hardening under her hands, the weight and warmth undeniable.
Every instinct screamed to pull away, yet a perverse part of him—the voice he always scolded internally—urged him to taste it, feel it, even if just a little.
His vision blurred slightly as he fought to keep control, aware of the slick heat, the subtle tremor in his hands, the way his body betrayed his resolve.
Why… why is she here? Is it just attraction? Just desire?No. No way.
He shifted subtly, attempting to maintain distance, but each movement brought her hand into closer contact, teasing, coaxing, pressing along the edges where his restraint hung by a thread.
"Ah… I… we shouldn't—" his voice cracked, strained, half a protest, half a confession, betraying the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.
Every nerve in his body seemed alight, every brush of her fingers an electric spark.
The warmth of her touch, the smooth pressure, the teasing motion—it was sensory overload.
His resolve wavered dangerously, caught between instinctive defense and the forbidden, intoxicating draw of her hands.
Her voice was impossibly sweet, like honey laced with mischief.
"I tried," she murmured, lips curling into a playful smirk, "but it's just too thick to grip properly."
Its a setup? Who cares? I'm gonna screw her...
Then—a sudden, soft sound at the doorway:
"Akihiro-kun!"
Hinata.
Her voice, delicate but firm, cut through the tension like a blade.
Akihiro's head snapped toward her, eyes wide, and in that instant, his body stiffened completely.
Ayame, startled, looked back, a flicker of surprise crossing her face as the presence of another shifted the dynamic instantly.
Hinata stepped forward, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, and her hands trembled slightly—but she didn't falter.
With a small, determined motion, she grabbed the edge of Akihiro's kimono, pulling him gently but firmly behind her, creating a shield of herself between him and Ayame.
"Um… maybe we should… go eat dinner?" Hinata's voice wavered, almost shy, yet held a weight that Ayame hadn't anticipated.
Akihiro's relief was immediate, his body relaxing as he felt Hinata's protective presence.
"Hey… thanks," he murmured, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, still acutely aware of the lingering warmth and the daring gaze of Ayame.
Ayame's eyes narrowed slightly, a mixture of surprise and mild annoyance, but she smirked nonetheless.
"Next time, we'll continue exactly where we stopped… no interruptions."
Hinata's grip tightened slightly, just enough to remind Akihiro she was there, steady and unwavering. Akihiro's mind raced, thoughts both chaotic and grateful.
God's sake… I almost fucked everything literally… Saved by Hinata. Damn it, she needs to mature quickly. I really need her now…
He swallowed hard, letting the moment pass, all the while noting Ayame's retreating figure and Hinata's flushed but resolute expression.
His pulse finally began to calm, replaced by a strange mix of embarrassment, relief, and the lingering thrill of the encounter that had almost broken his self-control.
As they walked away together, Akihiro silently vowed:
next time, I'll be more careful… and maybe, just maybe, I'll let Hinata take the lead in saving me again.
The perverted voice: She didn't save it! She ruined everything!!! This was gonna be our first wom…
The lucid voice: Shut up! Hinata has to be the first!!!