"Yeah, okay," Makoto breathed, the words a soft affirmation. "Let's continue, then."
He leaned in, his lips meeting hers again, gentle at first, tracing the curve of her cheeks, the corner of her mouth, before settling on her lips with a tenderness that felt both foreign and deeply, profoundly right.
Yuna melted into the soft kisses, a shaky sigh escaping her as his lips brushed hers.
There was no biting, no teasing, just a simple, devastating warmth.
Her hands slid into his hair, not pulling, just holding him close, anchoring herself to the moment.
"Big bro..." she murmured against his mouth, the name a reflexive, ingrained habit. She flinched, pulling back slightly. "I mean..."
He silenced her with another kiss, deeper this time, a silent reassurance. She shivered in his arms, her fingers tightening in his hair.
When he finally pulled back, her eyes were wide, her usual armor of sarcasm and seduction stripped away, leaving something raw and vulnerable in its place.
"Say it again," she whispered, her voice cracking with an emotion he couldn't quite name. "Call me beautiful. Like you mean it."
Her breath hitched as his hands slid under the oversized t-shirt, his palms flat against the bare skin of her back. He wasn't groping, not this time.
He was just touching, exploring the delicate curve of her waist with a reverence that felt both strange and sacred.
"This is scary," she admitted, her voice a muffled confession against the hollow of his throat. "I don't know how to be just me, just Yuna."
His hands caressed her belly, her hips, then moved upwards to cup her soft, enormous breasts. The touch was gentle, possessive, a silent answer to her unspoken fears.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, the words feeling truer than anything he had ever said. "Gorgeous. Breathtaking, Yuna. And I can say it over and over again if you want me to."
Yuna trembled under his touch, under his words, her carefully constructed walls crumbling into dust.
A single, traitorous tear escaped from the corner of her eye, tracing a glistening path down her temple.
"Liar," she whispered, but her body betrayed her, pressing his hand harder against her breast, a silent, desperate plea for more. "You only say things like that when you're balls-deep in some character."
But when he gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes, she broke.
"Fuck..." She hid her face against his neck, her shoulders shaking with silent, wracking sobs. "Why are you doing this? It was easier when you just used me."
She kissed him again, a desperate, messy, frantic kiss, nothing like her usual calculated seduction. It was a kiss of confusion and fear and a terrifying, dawning hope.
Her hands fumbled at his waistband, her movements clumsy and urgent. "I don't know how to be loved," she gasped between kisses, the confession a raw, bleeding wound. "Only how to be bought."
"Then I'll teach you," he murmured against her lips, the words a solemn, heartfelt vow. "Not as your big bro, but as your boyfriend. Just for tonight."
He giggled, a soft, nervous sound, as he began to gently remove her t-shirt.
He lay her down on the bed, his body hovering over hers. For a long moment, he just looked at her, his eyes scanning her naked form, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
"See?" he whispered, his voice thick with an emotion that was too big, too powerful to name. "You're beautiful. Just Yuna. No wig or costume needed."
Yuna's breath caught in her throat as he stripped her bare.
There was no cosplay, no pretense, just her, trembling in the soft light of his bedroom, her scars and stretch marks and all her perfect imperfections exposed.
She instinctively tried to cover herself, a gesture of pure, ingrained vulnerability, but he gently caught her wrists.
"Stop..." she choked out, but it wasn't a protest. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if she couldn't bear to see the look on his face. "I'm not in character. There's no sexy filter."
When his lips trailed down her neck, a shudder wracked her entire body.
"Don't lie to me," she whispered, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"I know I'm skinny here," her hand fluttered over her ribs, "and squishy here," she jabbed at her soft belly, "and my thighs rub together when I…"
"You're perfect, Yuna," he interrupted, his voice a low, rough growl. "Just the way you are." He kissed her ribs, her soft belly, her thighs, worshiping every part of her she tried to hide.
He grasped both of her hands in one of his, holding them above her head as the tip of his cock touched her entrance.
"We're going to do some boring lovemaking now," he said, his voice a little shaky. He looked directly into her eyes, a silent, profound question. "Can I enter, Yuna?"
Yuna stared up at him, really stared, for the first time without her armor of mockery or character. Her throat worked silently for a moment before she managed a strangled, "Since when do you ask?"
But when he didn't move, just waited, she bit her lip hard enough to leave a mark.
"Yes, Makoto," she breathed, her voice cracking.
"But..." Her legs wrapped around his waist, a familiar gesture that felt entirely new. She pulled him flush against her, her body a silent, desperate plea. "No condom."
She hid her face against his shoulder as he pushed in slowly, too slowly for her liking. "I want to feel it afterward, like some sinful proof."
She gasped as he filled her completely, her body arching off the bed not in a performance of pleasure, but a raw, involuntary reflex. "And don't..."
Her nails scored his back as he began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that felt both strange and deeply, profoundly intimate. "...call it boring."