Stealing Spree

"Are you worried that he’s going to interrupt us?" I asked, a meaningful smile on my face. "Or are you worried that if he calls, you won’t be able to hide the sounds you make?"

Futaba’s face instantly turned crimson, but as always, she immediately tried to compose herself, denying the implication with a frantic wave of her hand. "Don’t get ahead of yourself, Onoda-kun! I’m just saying it’s... inconvenient!"

"Heh. Got it."

After giving that slightly teasing answer, we walked the remaining distance to her house in a comfortable, though charged, silence.

As we neared the summer season, the night air had a humid quality that made clothes cling to the skin. Futaba walked slightly ahead of me, her pace quickening as we approached her gate.

Just like the first time she brought me here, the place was dark and silent.

Before entering, she turned to me, her expression a complex blend of apprehension and desire. She looked like a lost animal trying to convince herself it wasn’t walking into a trap, though she was the one who had lured me here.

She fixed the fringes of her long, green hair, her fingers trembling slightly. Then, after chewing on her lip for a few moments, she said, "Onoda-kun, thank you for accepting my... selfishness again."

Seeing her like this -- so fragile yet so desperate for the very thing she felt guilty about -- made something stir in me. Sure, the reason she conjured was probably not as truthful as she’d like to admit, but the need to taste the same pleasure as before was real.

And aside from me, she truly couldn’t bring someone else into this specific kind of vulnerability. Not even her boyfriend. After all, she still hadn’t tested if she’d still feel pain instead of pleasure from his touch.

We still had no idea why she could feel pleasure from me but I know myself enough that it’ll leave a bitter taste in my mouth if she eventually gets used to the pleasure that she can ignore the pain from her boyfriend’s touch.

Should I just steal her?

I shook my head, erasing that thought from my mind. Let’s not be impulsive, alright?

I stepped forward, closing the gap between us until the heat radiating from her skin reached me.

"Between us, we need not be so formal," I said in a gentle tone, devoid of the previous teasing. I reached out and brushed a stray lock of green hair behind her ear.

The contact was brief, but Futaba’s body shivered slightly as if an electric current had passed through her. She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding since we stepped off the bus.

In the silence of the residential street, the only sound was the distant hum of a cicada, signaling the arrival of a sweltering summer.

"I... I know," She stuttered, her voice barely audible. "But you’ve taken out your precious time just to help a selfish girl like me. It’s only right that I’m polite."

Look at this girl. Is she for real? But then again, since she already reflected long enough about her guilt and determination, she probably feels I’m still doing her a favor like this.

Futaba turned and quickly unlocked the front door, ushering me inside with a level of urgency that seemed to show her desperation.

Most likely, she had long reached the point where her mind was no longer in control.

Upon entering, the girl placed her school bag down on the side before bending down, her round backside raising slightly as she began taking off her shoes.

But with me close behind her, this angle felt like an invitation to a feast. I stood there for a moment, watching the way her skirt pulled tight across her hips as she leaned forward.

The silence of the house seemed to amplify the soft sound of her breathing, creating an atmosphere that was far more intimate than the one we had on the bus.

Futaba straightened up, her face still flushed, and turned to look at me. She seemed to realize exactly how she had been positioned a moment ago, and her gaze flickered downward, avoiding my eyes.

"Here, change into house slippers too," Futaba murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she pointed toward the entrance.

"Mhm. Sorry for the intrusion."

I did as she asked, without commenting on the treat she had just given me, before following her into the living room.

She quickly went to turn on the lights before turning to me and asking, "Should I get you a drink?"

The question was clearly her way to calm things down. Or rather, to pull herself back from being impulsive. Just looking at how her eyes seemed to tremble, and her body leaned slightly away from me, it was obvious she was fighting a battle against her own desire.

"No thanks, I’m fine," I replied, my voice calm and steady. I didn’t move, just stood there watching her. "Besides, the last time I was here... you immediately brought me to your room."

Futaba froze, her hand still hovering near the light switch.

Alas. The reminder of the previous time seemed to trigger a physical reaction. A visible shiver ran down her spine, and her breathing hitched a bit.

She slowly turned her head to look at me, her eyes clouded with a mixture of longing and the lingering remnants of that guilt she could never quite shake.

"That... that was a special circumstance," She whispered, though her voice lacked any real conviction.

"Was it?" I asked, closing our distance once again. "Because right now, you look like you’re struggling to breathe just by standing near me. Even I find it unusual."

As if burned by my words, Futaba stepped backward, her heel catching on the edge of the living room rug.

She didn’t fall. However, the sudden loss of balance forced her to reach out, her palms landing flat against my chest for support. Likewise, my arm hooked around her waist to steady her, pulling her flush against me.

And just like last time, her whole body reacted to my touch.

The girl quickly covered her mouth, preventing a moan from escaping. Then, she clutched at my shoulder.

"O-onoda-kun... This is normal. It was the last time that was abnormal," Futaba stammered, her voice trembling as she tried to push away. However, the effort was half-hearted. "That was an impulsive decision, so I hadn’t even thought of... setting the mood."

Right. Last time the mood was already set when she laid out her request and I accepted.

But this time? Does she still need to set a mood? It had long started burning even before we left our house, right?

But well, I guess I shouldn’t appear too eager, or else Futaba’s thought-up reasoning would collapse entirely. If she needs the illusion of a ’process’ to justify her desires, then I’ll be happy to play along.

"Fair point," I let go of her and took a step back.

Futaba let out a somewhat relieved sigh before hurriedly gesturing, "T-take a seat, I’ll get water."

I sat on the sofa, listening to the distant sound of a glass clinking in the kitchen. Futaba was taking her time.

The deliberate slowness of her movements was a clear sign that she was trying to regain some semblance of control over her heart rate. She wanted to feel like she was hosting a guest, not like a girl who had spent the last hour fantasizing about being touched and pleasured for the second or third time.

While waiting, I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate. I pulled it out and checked.

A message from Mitsui Kyoka.

“Onoda-kun, are you free for a chat?”

Huh? This woman. What’s the meaning of this? Her request has already been received, and we even set a date for when she’ll bring me to Hassen. Do we still need to chat? And late at night at that.

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