The air was stifling. No one moved. No one breathed. The only sound in the storehouse was Rin's broken sobs as she clung to Imura's chest, her forehead pressed against him, her pride in ruins.
His hand rested firm at the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, holding her there. He didn't push. He didn't need to. She was the one who had collapsed. She was the one begging for an anchor.
Saya trembled in his lap, her nails digging into his arm. Her voice was faint, choked. "Please… don't…"
But Rin's body betrayed everything. Her breath came hot, shallow. Her hands slid lower, clutching at his shirt. Her thighs pressed tight together as if she could strangle the fire eating her alive.
Imura tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. Her tears clung to her lashes, her lips parted, trembling.
"Say it again," he whispered.
Her throat worked, her pride clawing at the inside of her chest. But the fire was stronger.
"…I need you."
The words shattered her last defense.
His lips crushed against hers.
She gasped into his mouth, shock and heat flooding her veins. His hand fisted in her hair, his other arm locking around her waist, pulling her into him. The kiss was rough, consuming, stealing her breath. She whimpered, but instead of pushing him away, her hands clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer.
Saya's sob broke the silence. She covered her mouth, her body shaking. Natsumi turned her face away, eyes wide, her fists clenched until her knuckles whitened.
Imura devoured Rin's lips, tasting the salt of her tears. His tongue pushed past her lips, and she yielded with a broken moan, her body arching against him. Every shred of resistance burned away.
He lowered her to the floor, his weight pressing her down, his hands roaming with deliberate hunger. Her chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm as his fingers traced her body, memorizing every curve, every tremor.
When his hand slid beneath her shirt, she gasped, her back arching. "N-no—" The word choked out, but her body betrayed her, pressing into his touch.
His lips trailed down her neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks that screamed possession. Her moans spilled, helpless, her pride drowned beneath waves of heat.
Saya could only watch, her nails digging bloody crescents into her palms, torn between horror and despair. Natsumi stood frozen, the sound of Rin's moans searing into her ears.
Clothes were discarded, skin pressed to skin. Rin writhed beneath him, every kiss, every touch unraveling her further. Her voice broke with each gasp, each moan, begging and pleading even as she swore she hated him.
Imura claimed her fully, his every movement demanding surrender. And Rin—once the proud, unbreakable fighter—gave herself completely, sobbing his name into the dark.
When it was over, her body trembled, her breath ragged. She clung to him, nails raking his back, her tears staining his chest.
And he held her, calm, inevitable, the smirk never leaving his lips.
Saya lay curled against the wall, broken sobs shaking her frame. Natsumi stood in silence, her knife forgotten on the floor.
The room reeked of sweat, heat, and possession.
And Rin's pride lay shattered at his feet.