Before Yumiko's fist could land on Hayashi Maki, he caught it.
With a startled cry from Yumiko, the young woman was yanked forward and tumbled onto the cot in the break room. Hayashi Maki loomed over her, pinning both of her hands without ceremony, then lowered his head and kissed her.
What else could he do—hit her back because she'd tried to punch him? That would be crude. He'd been the one in the wrong first anyway. If he couldn't hit a girl, then the "serial kisser" would just stick to his basic move. Either way, he wasn't losing out.
Kissed again, Yumiko's eyes flew wide as she felt him plundering between her lips and teeth. She blinked, aggrieved, and tears began streaming down.
Hayashi Maki let go of her lips but kept her pinned, looking exasperated.
"So why are you crying? You came at me all fierce to hit me; I didn't hit you—I just kissed you. It doesn't even hurt. Do you really need to cry over that?"
"Uuu… I'd rather you hit me! You awful—scumbag—what do you call this? Doing this kind of thing to me—bullying me!"
Smack!
"Ah!"
Hayashi Maki suddenly raised his hand and gave her a light slap—on the rear, not the face. Her face was too pretty for that.
Yumiko yelped, staring at him in disbelief, feeling even more wronged.
"Y-you hit me?"
He shrugged, perfectly self-assured.
"What else? You asked me to. First time I've gotten a request like that; can't I oblige?"
"Y-you… you bully! Uu… you jerk!"
Indignation flared to match her shame; she darted in and bit his shoulder. Hayashi Maki went numb—bitten again. No big deal. If he was going to "bully" her, letting her vent would only make the impression deeper. Scientifically speaking, wasn't this the so-called Stockholm syndrome?
In short, use the "bullying" to leave a deep mark; once she's used to it, treat her gently and she'll fall for you. Despicable, shameless—pure demon tactics.
Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he gently stroked Yumiko's golden hair and lifted her into his lap. Eyes wet, she gnawed a moment longer, tasting the metallic tang before coming to her senses. She'd drawn blood. And yet the jerk hadn't dodged—he kept petting her head and holding her close.
She let go, stared at the tooth marks on his shoulder, felt that gentle hand on her head, and blurted, dazed:
"W-why didn't you move?"
He smiled faintly.
"Letting you vent a bite, so you don't bottle it up. Feel any better now? Ow—hurts. You drew blood. Do you hate me that much, Yumiko?"
"You deserved it! And… no, it doesn't feel better at all!"
If anything, she felt weirder and more flustered. Worse, with him holding and stroking her head, she suddenly felt… kind of comfortable. Which was absurd.
"Oh? Still upset? Want to bite the other side too? Go easy—I'm still afraid of pain." He guided her cheek to his other shoulder.
"W-who would bite you? You reek—gross!" she snapped, face burning, shoving him hard.
"Ah—ow." He feigned pain but kept holding her tight. Yumiko bit her lip, at a loss for words. Her mouth still tasted sweet—his blood. Her head was buzzing; her heart was a mess. Being hugged and kissed like this—sitting in a man's lap—was a first. Her heartbeat sped up on its own.
Seeing her flushed face, he knew it was time. He laid back, taking her with him, pressing her beneath him—and kissed her again without further talk.
Yumiko gave a token push, then stopped resisting. She scrambled for excuses in her head: he forced it; she couldn't get away; she wasn't agreeing. Having vented most of her grievance with that bite, the shame surged instead. Eyes half-closed, her small hands clutched his arm, breathing quick and shallow.
Damn it—why was he so practiced? Had he "trained" with Mahiru? Uu, probably not just Mahiru—there was that cute twin-tail girl Eriri too. Why was she kissing a guy like this? Why wasn't she fighting back? Hateful… absolutely hateful!
After a long while, they parted. Hayashi Maki, grinning, looked at the breathless, crimson-cheeked girl in his arms.
"Too cute, Yumiko. What a pity Hayama doesn't cherish you. Why not let me be the lucky one?"
"In your dreams!" she shot back, face aflame. "After what you did, I won't let this slide! I'll tell Mahiru! I'll tell the whole class so everyone sees what a scumbag you are!"
"I'll call the police, too! You pervert!"
He raised a brow.
"If you're going that far, I might as well be bad to the end. Before I get hauled off and condemned, I'll make sure I'm fully compensated."
"W-what are you going to do?" Panic flashed across her face—she regretted her words.
"Nothing much. Didn't you say you'd rather I hit you? Your wish is my command."
He lifted his hand—and brought it down.
Smack!
"Ah! That hurts! Y-you really hit me? Uu—why?"
"No helping it. If words won't convince you, I'll use my hands."
…
A while later, Yumiko—eyes brimming—was curled in his arms, not wanting to move an inch. Her backside burned. The jerk had actually spanked her. If she'd known it would come to that, she wouldn't have said it—she'd have let him kiss her instead.
Seeing her so pitiful, Hayashi Maki brushed his palm and used a touch of mana to heal the marks from her struggle. The impression should be deep enough by now; he couldn't very well leave her unable to return to the shop.
Yumiko felt his hand, warm against her; the pain eased as if he'd just wiped it away. Curiosity flickered in her eyes, but she didn't ask—she just sat in silence, letting him hold her, a shy warmth rising in her chest.
"All better, right? Honestly, Yumiko—why did you want me to hit you? I'm helpless with pretty girls; I just like fulfilling their wishes."
At that, she ground her teeth, tempted to bite him again—then, noticing the bloodied bite mark on his shoulder, flushed and ducked her head instead. Hayashi Maki, pleased, patted her hair.
"Be good. You should get back out there. First day on the job and slacking off will leave Odoriko-san with a bad impression."
Yumiko thumped him once, wriggled from his arms, and stood on shaky legs.
"I'm not slacking—whose fault do you think this is?"
After steadying herself, she bit her lip and couldn't help adding:
"I hate you. You're nothing like Hayato-kun!"
"Oh? Really?" He smiled, eyes narrowing.
"I hate you," she insisted, face blazing—and bolted, afraid he'd pounce again.
Hayashi Maki shook his head, not taking it to heart. Like he didn't know whether she liked him? Yumiko's body had been very honest just now.
~~~
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