[Library — Phone Booth, Late Afternoon]
---
Riku's hands pressed down firmly on Hirose Yoru's head, holding her there for several long seconds.
Then he exhaled—a deep, satisfied breath that fogged faintly in the cold recycled air of the booth.
"Mmph—! Nngh—!"
Yoru's muffled whimpers vibrated against him as he finally released his grip. The moment his fingers left her scalp, she lurched back, gasping desperately for air. Her chest heaved beneath her disheveled uniform blouse, lungs burning as she sucked in oxygen through trembling lips.
Saliva and something thicker dripped from her chin in long, viscous strings, catching the fluorescent light from outside the booth. Her mascara had smudged at the corners of her eyes. The taste coated her tongue—warm, salty, impossibly present.
I have to spit this out—
"Don't make a mess on the floor."
Riku's voice came from above, casual as a weather observation.
Yoru's expression crumpled—disgust, humiliation, something raw and wounded flickering across her features. But she squeezed her eyes shut, and with visible effort, her throat moved.
Gulp.
Riku crouched slowly, his fingers catching her chin and tilting her face up toward him. The pads of his fingers were calloused, warm against her jaw.
"Open. Let me see if you got it all."
Yoru slapped his hand away, the sound sharp in the enclosed space. "You're scum!"
Her voice cracked on the word. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, already reaching for her discarded cardigan.
"That's—that's it, right? We're done. You promised you'd keep your word about my mother, so—"
She didn't finish.
Riku's arm shot out, catching her around the waist and spinning her body. Her cheek slammed flat against the one-way glass, the cold surface biting against her flushed skin. Outside, the library stretched in muted afternoon light—study tables, scattered students, the oblivious world continuing without her.
From outside, the booth's reflective coating showed nothing but dim shapes. But from where Yoru stood, face pressed to the glass, she could see everything.
Including Sato Shiro, her boyfriend, standing up from their shared study table and looking around with increasing confusion.
Riku's breath ghosted hot against her ear, his chest pressing into her back. She could feel him—still hard, still ready—pressing against the curve of her ass through her bunched-up skirt.
"What's the rush?" His lips brushed her earlobe. "The real show hasn't even started yet."
"W-wait—" Yoru's voice pitched higher, panic bleeding through. "Don't—not inside. Please. Can't we... can't we do this another day? I'll come to you, I promise, just—"
His hand found hers, pinning it against the glass above her head. His hips shifted, and she felt the searing heat of him nudging between her thighs, pushing aside the damp fabric of her underwear.
This is really happening. This is—
The 「Shameless Thief」 ability pulsed through her nervous system like warm honey. Her knees buckled. Her protests died in her throat, replaced by a full-body shiver that left her trembling against the glass.
She managed one weak squirm. Then another. But her muscles wouldn't obey—her body had already betrayed her, softening, yielding.
"Don't struggle so much." Riku's voice was almost tender. Almost. "Look straight ahead. See him? Your boyfriend's looking for you. If he finds out..."
Outside the glass, Sato Shiro had risen fully from his seat. He turned in a slow circle, scanning the floor. His brow furrowed. He scratched the back of his head—that familiar gesture Yoru had found endearing just an hour ago.
Shiro...
"Shiro—" she whispered, the name escaping her lips like a prayer.
Then Riku thrust forward.
The breath punched out of her lungs. A searing, splitting pressure—too much, too full—radiated from her core. Her fingernails scraped uselessly against the glass.
"Ahhh—! Nngh—!"
Warm wetness trickled down her inner thigh. She didn't need to look to know what it was—the evidence of what he'd just taken from her painting a thin crimson trail toward her knee.
"Shiro... Shiro... Shiro..."
She was still saying his name, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, even as her hips began to move without her permission—rocking back against Riku's pelvis, chasing sensation she didn't want to want.
Beyond the glass, Sato Shiro walked closer.
He stopped directly in front of the phone booth, peering past it toward the far windows.
Riku's mouth found the shell of her ear again. "I'm going to start moving now."
Yoru's pupils contracted to pinpricks. Her whole body seized. "No—no, you can't—pull out! Shiro's right there, he'll—"
Riku began to move.
Slowly at first—long, deliberate strokes that dragged against every nerve ending inside her. Then faster. Harder. The wet, obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the booth, punctuated by the rhythmic creak of the glass panel flexing under their combined weight.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Yoru's eyes rolled back. Her mouth fell open. The glass fogged with her ragged breath.
Through the haze, she could still see Shiro—still searching, still confused—and that knowledge sent a twisted coil of heat spiraling through her belly. She shouldn't be feeling this. She hated this.
But her hips kept moving, grinding back against Riku's rhythm, matching him thrust for thrust.
"Ahhh—! Mmph—! Ha—ahhnn—!"
"You're a natural at this, my little campus belle kouhai."
His pace increased. Each impact jolted her body forward, pressing her breasts flat against the cold glass. Her nipples peaked painfully through the thin fabric of her bra.
"Your voice is getting loud."
The words cut through her pleasure-drunk haze like ice water. Yoru's hand flew to her mouth, clamping down hard. The moans became muffled whimpers—desperate, animal sounds that vibrated against her palm.
"Mmph—! Mmmmph—!"
Riku's hand cracked down on her ass.
SMACK.
The sound echoed. Yoru's whole body jerked, her inner walls clenching involuntarily around him.
"Move your hips faster. On your own."
---
Outside, Sato Shiro circled the area again. And again. His girlfriend had been gone for nearly twenty minutes now. Where the hell had she wandered off to?
He paused in front of the occupied phone booth, reaching for the handle.
Click.
Locked.
Inside, Yoru's heart stopped. Her eyes, wet and glazed, fixed on the handle as it jiggled once, twice—
Oh god, oh god, if Shiro sees me like this—if he opens the door and finds me—
—but Riku had locked it from the beginning.
The mechanism held. Sato Shiro frowned, releasing the handle.
"Someone's been in there forever," he muttered, scratching his head again. "Don't they know other people need to make calls?"
He moved to the adjacent booth, where another student had just finished. The moment he slipped inside, Riku's rhythm accelerated.
They'd changed positions now.
Yoru's legs were hooked over Riku's forearms, her back pressed against the glass, her entire weight suspended on his cock. Each thrust lifted her several inches, gravity slamming her back down onto him with a wet, meaty slap.
Her eyes had rolled back completely. Her tongue lolled out past her lips. Drool traced a glistening line down her chin.
Ahegao.
The campus belle—the girl every boy wanted—reduced to this.
"What do you think?" Riku's voice was steady despite the exertion. "You almost got caught."
Some fragment of awareness flickered back into Yoru's eyes. For a moment, the dazed expression shifted toward something harder—resentment, maybe. Shame.
"Just... hurry up," she managed between gasps.
Riku laughed.
"Hurry? I'm just getting started."
His hips snapped forward with renewed force.
"AHHH—! AHH—! AHHHHNN—!"
Yoru's screams filled the booth, too far gone now to even remember to muffle them—her boyfriend's proximity forgotten, her pride forgotten, everything forgotten except the relentless pleasure crashing through her like waves against a crumbling seawall.
Her hands clawed at his back, pulling him deeper.
More. More. More.
The smell of sex—sharp and sweet and undeniable—saturated the recycled air, mixing with the faint industrial scent of the booth's plastic panels. Outside, the afternoon light shifted toward golden hour. Students packed up their books. Sato Shiro finished his call and walked away, still searching for a girlfriend who was three feet away, impaled on another man's cock.
And Riku kept going.