Lilysa was stripping down to her underwear on the TV screen. She looked flushed and embarrassed, absolutely gorgeous in that innocent way of hers.
Yuna's fingers tightened around him. Too possessive, really. Meanwhile, Mika's hand traveled lower, getting bolder by the second.
Neither of them looked at the other. Both kept their eyes glued to the screen like they were actually watching, faces perfectly innocent and focused.
But underneath that blanket? In the darkness where no one could see? They were fighting their own silent war, and his cock had become the battlefield.
Makoto couldn't help the low and pathetic groan that escaped him. "Umm, kinda hard to focus on the anime when you two are..." He trailed off, deciding actions spoke louder than words.
"Time for a counterattack." He grinned. His left hand slipped inside Yuna's pajama top to cup her breast while his right snuck up Mika's shirt to find her nipple.
Yuna's breath caught. Just a small gasp against his shoulder, but he heard it. Her hand, which had been stroking him with such confidence, almost arrogance, suddenly lost its rhythm. Her fingers spasmed against his shaft.
Her nipples were already hard little pebbles beneath the thin fabric of her worn pajama top. But now, when he pinched and rolled them between his fingers? They became so sensitive that she practically vibrated.
Mika whimpered, soft and surprised, her own exploration came to an abrupt halt. Her back arched when his fingers found her nipple through the faded cotton of his old t-shirt. Pure pleasure shot through her, making her whole body tremble.
The TV showed Lilysa and Okumura in an increasingly compromising position. Something involving a tape measure and lots of blushing.
The living room air grew thicker, charged with something new. This wasn't just a silent war anymore. They'd moved to full-scale assault, hands everywhere at once.
And there in the darkness, he could feel something changing. Their breathing shifted, became synchronized somehow. Those competing hands? They started moving together.
Yuna brought his hand to her neglected breast. At the same time, Mika pressed his hand harder against her nipple. They weren't competing for his attention anymore. No, this was worse. They were collaborating, working as a team to drive him completely insane.
Another moan escaped him, guttural and raw. He gasped, drowning in their scents and sounds, as his hands began sliding downward. Over their bellies, then lower still. The anime became background noise, just flickering lights and distant voices that meant nothing compared to this.
The living room felt like a sauna. Hot and humid, the air so thick with arousal you could practically taste it.
Yuna's familiar musky sweetness had sharpened; she could already feel she was soaking wet. Mika's lighter floral scent had deepened into something earthier, more primal, basically just pure lust. The forgotten cookies on the coffee table added their sugary notes to the mix, blending with the salt of sweat and sex.
Makoto's left hand traveled from Yuna's breast down over her belly. Her skin burned hot, slick with sweat. Those ridiculous unicorn pajamas seemed absurd given what they were doing, but somehow that made it even hotter. The fabric was damp with her arousal.
His fingers found her waistband, the elastic cutting into her soft flesh. He pushed past it into the neat triangle of her pubic hair.
Her pussy was scorching hot, soaking wet, and impossibly tight. Those inner lips had swollen up, slick with her juices. She was dripping, coating his fingers with thick, syrupy wetness. Her own special musk filled his nose. Every touch drew out desperate, needy sounds from her throat.
His right hand discovered that Mika's body was different. Her skin was cooler, smoother, her belly a flat, toned plane of muscle. His old t-shirt clung to her, soaked through with sweat.
His fingers found the waistband of those familiar sweatpants. It's strange how the worn fabric felt against his hand while he was exploring this new territory. She wore nothing underneath.
Her pussy felt delicate, almost fragile. Like a perfect rose that had been thoroughly corrupted. Slick with thinner fluid than Yuna's, she smelled sweeter, more floral. The taste of innocence mixed with sin, every forbidden fantasy suddenly real.
Where Yuna was loud and demanding, Mika made soft, barely audible sounds. A quiet symphony of pleasure.
The TV kept flickering, casting wild shadows across the walls. Those bright colors and cheerful music seemed to mock what was happening on their couch. Such a strange contrast to the raw, primal scene playing out in real life.
Makoto couldn't resist grinning, mischief written all over his face. "So do you two always get this wet watching anime?" I don't remember Ayane acting like this during our marathons."
"Shut up," Yuna gasped. Her voice came out raw and broken as his fingers slid inside her. "Don't... don't bring her up right now." Her hips bucked frantically against his hand. "This isn't about the fucking anime, you idiot."
Mika whimpered when his other hand found her clit. "He's got a point, though," she breathed, sounding winded. She caught Yuna's eye, lips curving into a knowing smile. "It's definitely not the anime doing this to us. It's him."
Yuna groaned long and loud, her head falling back against the couch cushions. "I know," she whispered, voice completely wrecked. "God, I know!"
Then chaos erupted as they both reached for him simultaneously once more.
Yuna's hand claimed his cock with that familiar possessive grip she had. Mika's fingers explored his balls, her touch exciting and new.
Their counterattack started now.