"Why are you crying?" Makoto whispered softly in the dark.
He wiped his flaccid, messy cock on her soft thigh, then pressed his hips against her and hugged her from behind.
Yuna flinched when he touched her. A small sob escaped before she could stop it.
She tried to pull away, wanted to curl up and hide from his touch and from all these confusing emotions rushing through her.
But his arms held her tight.
"I'm not crying," she whispered, her voice raw and broken. "It's just... allergies."
She took a deep breath, and the scent of him, of his release, filled her lungs.
"And you're a disgusting, selfish pig." Her voice got a bit stronger.
"You got your cum all over my leg." She shifted against him, her ass pressing into his stomach.
"...And now I have to take a shower. In your disgusting, moldy bathroom."
Makoto grinned wickedly in the darkness. "Don't wash it," he whispered.
"Just let it dry there, on your thighs. So you'll have something to show off tomorrow." He hugged her tighter, his body warm against her back.
Yuna went completely still.
For several long seconds, the only sound was her heart beating frantically against his chest.
Then she exhaled slowly.
"...You're the worst," she whispered. "The absolute worst."
But she didn't pull away. She didn't fight. She just lay there trembling in his arms.
Her hand, which had been gripping the blanket, found his. Their fingers laced together in the darkness.
"...Fine," she muttered grudgingly. "But you're buying me new sweatpants tomorrow."
She shifted again, pressing back against him. "...And you're not allowed to look at Mika's ass. Not even once."
Her grip on his hand tightened possessively. "...Or I'll tell her you have a cum fetish."
---
The alarm on his phone blared at five-thirty, shattering the quiet peace. "Time for that run, I guess," he groaned, his voice rough with sleep.
"Wake up, you lazy Yuna. Are you joining?"
Yuna groaned deep in her chest and burrowed deeper under the covers. "Five more minutes," she muttered thickly.
But then reality hit her.
The run. Mika. The unspoken territorial war.
She sat up suddenly, hair wild and tangled, eyes wide with panic and rage. "I'm up," she growled.
She glared at the dried, crusty patch on her thigh. The evidence of their late-night activities made her stumble out of bed with sharp, jerky movements.
"And for the record, I'm wearing my shortest shorts. And my tightest tank top." She turned to face him, wickedness glinting in her eyes.
"And you are wearing that disgusting, sweat-stained gray sweatsuit. The one that makes you look like a sad, lumpy potato." She stomped out, each footstep an angry thud against the floor.
They arrived at the secluded early-morning park, looking completely mismatched.
Makoto did indeed feel like a sad, lumpy potato.
"Hmm, you look decent in those shorts and that tank top, Yuna," he murmured so quietly she couldn't possibly have heard.
Yuna's head whipped around, eyes like ice chips. "What did you say? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your disgusting, wheezing breaths."
She launched into elaborate, unnecessary stretches, her shorts riding up just enough to give him glimpses of her ass. "And for the record, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this to show my dominance over that... that cheesecake-loving home-wrecker."
He glanced around the empty paths. "I wonder what Mika will wear for her run."
She squinted toward the park entrance, looking fierce and determined. "And if she shows up in one of those fancy, matching LuluLemon sets..." she muttered darkly.
Right on cue, Mika appeared at the entrance. She wore sleek, high-end running gear that matched, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.
She looked like she'd stepped out of a Nike ad.
And she was smiling at him.
"Morning, Mika," he said, slightly breathless as he stared.
"We just arrived, too." He glanced back at Yuna, thrilled by the chaos of having both beautiful girls here.
"It's been a while since I've done any heavy movement." He pushed at his belly fat with one hand. "You'll have to go easy on me, please."
Mika's smile widened as he approached. A faint blush crept up her cheeks.
"Morning. You guys look ready." Her gaze lingered on him for just a second too long, taking in his lumpy gray sweatsuit with amusement.
Meanwhile, Yuna radiated silent murderous rage.
Her smile looked painful, forced. Her eyes stayed cold as ice. "He's not ready. He's a fat, lazy slob."
"He'll probably have a heart attack in the first five minutes." She started jogging in place with sharp, aggressive movements.
"But don't worry. I'll be right behind him. To motivate him."
When her eyes met his, they promised vengeance.
She was going to make him suffer.
Mika just giggled softly, which made Yuna's grip on her water bottle turn white-knuckled. "Well, let's get started then."
She took off at a steady, effortless pace that he knew he'd never match.
Within the first quarter-mile, he was wheezing and sweating profusely.
His lungs burned. His legs ached.
His disgusting sweatsuit was already soaked through.
Meanwhile, Mika glided along the path with athletic grace, her pace steady, her breathing even.
Every so often, she'd glance back with an encouraging smile.
Her ass in those sleek leggings moved like a perfect metronome. Honestly, it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the side of the path.
Yuna ran right behind him like some demon from hell.
Her footsteps pounded angrily against the pavement. She wasn't even breathing hard.
"Faster, you fat pig," she hissed. "Are you even trying?"
She kicked the back of his heel hard enough to nearly send him sprawling. "And stop staring at her ass. Or I'll gouge your eyes out with my thumbs."
Makoto groaned pathetically. "Ouch, you don't have to... kick me like that." He struggled to keep up, lungs burning, legs screaming.
She sprinted past him at an impossible pace.
"Last one to the bridge has to buy breakfast," she called out, her voice loud, forced, and too cheerful.
Yuna didn't look back. She just kept running, a small furious blur of determination.
But Mika slowed down, looking concerned and something else he couldn't quite read. "Are you okay? That was a little intense."
She jogged beside him at an easy pace he could actually maintain. "Don't worry about her. She's just competitive."
She gave him an encouraging smile. "You're doing great. Just focus on your breathing."
They ran in silence for a few moments, her presence calming and steady beside him.
Then, as if she couldn't help herself, she asked quietly, "So... did you get my text last night?"
He shook his head, feigning total innocence. "What text? I don't remember."
He edged closer, too close, and took a deep sniff of her sweat.
Mika's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, but she smiled knowingly. "Oh, you know. The one about your well-lit spyware photo."