The gorgeous young wife slowly lifted her exquisite face from the boy's lap, her expression drenched in a satisfaction so thick it looked almost narcotic. Her index finger swept across her lower lip, catching the last pearl of white that had escaped her, and then she slipped that finger into her mouth and sucked it clean with the serene, glassy-eyed look of a girl who'd just finished her favorite parfait at a Karaoke afterparty.
Beneath her, Yūto Shō lay sprawled with the thousand-yard stare of a Trigger protagonist who'd just survived the final boss. Even after chugging a dose of Stamina Elixir earlier, he'd come within a hair's breadth of being drained dry — spirit, seed, and soul — by Tachibana Hina's mouth.
Nine times.
Nine goddamn times.
The Lust Marker's power was, quite frankly, an Anti-Spiral-tier bullshit ability.
No, wait, Yūto Shō's foggy brain corrected itself. Sato Ruri had two signatures on her, and she didn't even hit half of what Tachibana Hina just pulled off. Which meant the difference wasn't the ink — it was the woman. Tachibana Hina's body was some kind of hidden SSR sensitivity build, the sort of hypersensitive constitution that turned every stimulus into a critical hit.
Tachibana Hina, still sucking her fingertip like it was the last bite of a limited-edition dessert, finally swallowed. A blissful little sigh escaped her — and then, her expression froze. Awareness crashed back into her all at once. She blinked, then blinked again, staring dumbly down at the pants-less, half-conscious Yūto Shō beneath her.
Memory arrived like a tsunami. Her lovely face flushed a red so deep it looked painted on, cheeks burning with a shame so total she could barely process what she'd just done.
She had, moments ago, behaved like some depraved hentai-anthology heroine — kissing every inch of Yūto Shō's body with feverish, reverent devotion, and then, shamelessly, burying her face into the flat plane of his lower belly like a fangirl nuzzling her oshi.
The moment she thought of the searing, iron-hot hardness that had been in her mouth — that thick, twitching shape she could still taste — her whole body shivered. Her tongue, still coated in the flavor of him, tingled from tip to root, a soft electric buzz humming under the surface. A wicked, unbidden urge rose in her: to bend down again, to press her lips against his stomach, his hips, his —
She caught herself. Ducked her head in mortification. She couldn't even look at him.
That was the exact moment Yūto Shō — chest still heaving like he'd just finished the Naruto run — reached up and closed his hand possessively over one of her breasts, squeezing through the fabric. His eyes lifted to her face with the melting, lovestruck gaze of a shoujo male lead in the confession scene.
"Hina-nee," he rasped, voice wrecked and syrupy. "That felt so good. You took such good care of me."
Tachibana Hina's heart did a full backflip. When her eyes met his — and she saw the way he was looking at her, like she was the heroine of his personal Persona social link — her chest clenched. On pure reflex, she batted his roaming hand off her breast.
Yūto Shō blinked at her, wounded-puppy confused.
Her expression twisted into something complicated. "Shō-kun," she said carefully, softly, "we were just doing… treatment. You already have a girl you like, remember?"
Yūto Shō pulled off a masterclass expression — half strange, half the guilty-hangdog look of a certified scumbag protagonist caught mid-scheme.
Tachibana Hina saw it and sighed inwardly. Her voice went gentler, coaxing. "That girl came to your house a second time. That means she cares about you. You need to treat her well. Don't let her down. Big sister and you — we're just partners. Cooperators."
Because the way Yūto Shō had just looked at her — that had rung every alarm in her head. Shō-kun was more infatuated than before. Possibly, terrifyingly, shifting his affections entirely onto her.
But she wasn't the type to be a homewrecker. She wasn't going to steal a young girl's boy. Reason also — brutally, unflinchingly — reminded her that she and Yūto Shō could never happen. She was married. That was the end of the sentence.
So the fastest, kindest thing was to cut this bud before it flowered. Push him back toward the girl. Restore the boundary. Business partners, nothing more.
Yūto Shō, listening, began to build a fuller picture of her: sensitive as a live wire in bed, but morally locked in Fate/Stay Night-grade principles. She refused to be the other woman.
Which, of course, only made her hotter. The idea of dragging a woman like this down — corrupting a wife with a strict moral compass, watching those principles crumble piece by piece — was going to be an achievement worthy of its own trophy cutscene.
Suppressing his internal Kira-Yoshikage grin, Yūto Shō pretended to hesitate. "But… I don't get hard for her. Only for Hina-nee, only for you—"
Tachibana Hina's heart lurched. The tip of her tongue chose that exact second to prickle and tingle again, a sweet electric itch spreading through her mouth. She bit down hard on it, using the sharp flare of pain like a Getsuga Tenshou to slice through the fog and stay clear-headed.
She reached out and ruffled Yūto Shō's hair, expression tender. "She's the girl you like. You just haven't figured out how to be with her yet. Be patient. Don't you want her to be your girlfriend? Are you really okay watching her fall into someone else's arms?"
Yūto Shō's brow furrowed on cue, as if imagining his beloved crush cuddled up in another man's bed — an image which, admittedly, did put his mood into a Neon Genesis-grade sulk.
Tachibana Hina smiled — but there was an unaccountable sourness in her chest, something she didn't want to name. Her voice softened further. "So, Shō-kun, if you still want her, you have to try. Look how well you did just now — that proves your body works fine. You just need the right approach."
Yūto Shō's gaze firmed with resolve. Then, remembering something, he flashed a shy, uncertain smile. "Hina-nee… does that mean you'll still help me? Later?"
Tachibana Hina's cheeks flared. She hesitated — a full three-second combat pause — before answering with a very serious nod. "Of course. Because we're partners. And Hina-nee also needs Shō-kun to keep helping me with the act. If Shō-kun ever has trouble, Hina-nee will help too."
"Excellent!" Yūto Shō's tone brightened like a Level Up jingle. "I'll help Hina-nee too. I promise I won't let that pervert Natsuo-san get what he wants."
Tachibana Hina looked down at him — and felt her tongue start to shiver again. That soft, buzzing, prickling tingle. The urgent, humiliating urge to lean down and lick him just once, just a little, just to feel the shape of his skin against her tongue—
She clenched her teeth and forcibly rerouted the conversation. "Hina-nee has things to take care of. You should rest, Shō-kun. Sleep early tonight."
She was too flustered to meet his eyes. Internally, she tried to count — and realized, to her horror, that she'd nearly drained him dry. She'd actually made him come seven times. No — nine. Nine total. Her stomach felt distinctly, unmistakably full. Her mouth was still coated with him, the taste sitting on her tongue like an aftertaste of hot cream and salt.
She couldn't help it — she licked her lips.
Her eyes flicked, involuntarily, down to his lap. And then flicked wider. Oh god, it's huge. If he'd been fully erect, would her mouth have even fit around it? Would she have had to unhinge her jaw like some Jujutsu Kaisen curse just to take him in?
The thought, filthy and unbidden, made her thighs press together.
That was when Yūto Shō — noticing her stare — bashfully covered his crotch with both hands like a virgin heroine.
Tachibana Hina nearly combusted. She could feel her own restraint fraying like an old sword-strap. If she stayed one more minute, she was going to do something even worse than what she'd already done. "Then — Hina-nee will go home first. Bye—"
Only then did she register that her pants were still on the floor. Her whole delicate frame shivered as she snatched them up, yanked them on with the speed of an Attack on Titan ODM-gear escape, and fled his apartment at a pace that would have made Sonic proud.
After she left, Yūto Shō stared at the closed door and felt an odd hollowness inside — a strange, aching emptiness, like the post-credits silence after a great episode. He fumbled out another vial of Stamina Elixir and downed it. The warmth spread through him, and he finally felt human again.
Reflecting on the last hour or so, Yūto Shō was equal parts satisfied and troubled. Being worshipped like that by Tachibana Hina — being kissed and sucked and adored head to toe — felt fucking incredible. But the toll on his body was insane. He'd just laid there, and she'd kissed him for hours without tiring, while he had been the one paying in actual biological currency — protein, spirit, and enough baby-batter to fill a small onigiri stand.
Thank god for Stamina Elixir. But the burn rate was a problem. Eight vials left. And Tachibana Hina's tongue-signature was still active for another ten days.
He needed to score more Elixirs tonight. Or maybe those old-school stamina pills. Whatever kept him standing.
Meanwhile, across the hall, Tachibana Hina had locked herself in her bedroom. She stood with her back against the door, one hand cupping her sore, aching jaw, expression drifting far, far away. The image of her own mouth working on Yūto Shō — the shape of him against her cheek, the taste flooding her — refused to leave her head. Her tongue trembled again, that maddening tingle spreading, and she caught herself swallowing thickly, over and over, as if to chase the memory of his flavor down her throat.
Unable to help herself, Tachibana Hina slid two fingers — index and middle — into her own mouth, and began to suck. Slowly. Reverently. Like she was practicing. Her eyes fluttered half-shut as she pictured herself back on top of him, kissing him without stopping, tongue dragging along every inch of his skin, and her lovely body shuddered with a helpless, involuntary tremor.
"Shō-kun… Shō-kun…"
Her breath came fast and shallow. Yūto Shō's name slipped out of her wet, occupied mouth in slurred, muffled little moans — "hnnh… Shō-kun…" — her eyes glazing over, her pretty face taking on the flushed, dreamy, half-drunk look of a woman lost to her own desire.
...
"Today's Scumbag Rating: Outstanding."
"Scumbag Points awarded: 250."
"Current Scumbag Points balance: 2850."
"Comment: A promising up-and-coming trashbag."
Today's Exchange Shop:
"Stamina Elixir ×1 — 100 points."
"Hypnosis: Perfectly hypnotize a single target. Success rate significantly higher on women than men. Cost: 50,000 points."
"Cock Toughness Technique (Penile Toughness): The instant a critical strike lands on the user's manhood, the skill triggers, granting the vital region extreme durability capable of resisting teeth. Duration: three seconds. Cost: 300 Scumbag Points."