He let his head fall back in the dark room.
He stopped thinking entirely. He just let the heavy, suffocating heat swallow him. It was deeply, terrifyingly satisfying. He had already crossed a big line, but he was still hovering just close enough to the edge that he could step back into the light whenever he wanted.
A dark, dangerous thought crawled into the front of his mind. He could easily take this further. He could reach down and strip the heavy uniform skirt right off her hips. He could expose everything.
But the risk of her waking up paralyzed him.
Despite the chaotic mess rotting his brain, he still lacked the raw courage to cross the road of absolutely no return. He was still a coward this point. He was not twisted enough yet to execute the terrible things a typical, unhinged man would do in this dark room.
He breathed heavily the entire time.
He stayed locked in that deeply intimate, forbidden position for ten full minutes. He just sat there and soaked in the heat of her sleeping body.
When the physical thrill finally leveled out into a dull, heavy ache, he carefully pushed her back. He laid her gently against her soft pillows. He lifted her legs and swung them onto the mattress.
He leaned over her face. He checked her eyelid one more time. Pure white. She was completely oblivious to what had just happened.
Zenjiro stood up. He walked slowly across the cold floorboards to his own bed. He collapsed onto his mattress and pulled the thick blue blanket over his chest. He stared up at the pitch-black ceiling.
Doing something like that, a quiet physical contact in the dark, was enough to satisfy him for tonight. It was enough to bury the sharp pain of Asuka's rejection forever.
He closed his tired eyes.
But the intense heat from Liora's bare thigh did not fade from his lap. The heavy, phantom weight of Clara's flesh still burned vividly into his right palm. He reached down and wiped his hands hard against the rough cotton blanket. He scrubbed his skin to rub the feeling away.
The heat didn't vanish. It sank deeper into his nerve endings.
His eyes snapped wide open in the dark. His empty hands were violently shaking. He gripped the blue blanket until his knuckles turned white. He wasn't satisfied at all. He was entirely starving.
He stared at the pitch-black ceiling. He listened to the dead silence of the house. The quiet didn't feel like a heavy barrier anymore. It felt like a wide-open door. Both women had given him their absolute, unquestioning consent just a few hours ago.
He let go of the blanket.
He pushed the heavy cotton entirely off his chest. The cold air hit his sweating skin. He sat up slowly on the edge of his mattress. His bare feet touched the freezing floorboards.
He didn't lie back down. He didn't try to force himself to sleep. He looked across the dark room at Liora's sleeping form, and then he stared at the closed bedroom door leading back out to the hallway.
He stood up.
The wooden floorboards were freezing against his bare soles. He turned his head toward the opposite side of the pitch-black room. He took a slow, deliberate step forward.
Thud.
The physical distance between his mattress and Liora's bed was painfully short.
Then...
He took another heavy step.
Thud.
He stopped right beside her sleeping form. He looked down at the thick blue blankets covering her waist. The dark hunger twisted violently in his empty stomach. He raised his shaking right hand in the quiet air.
But then, he didn't reach for the blankets. He reached entirely past her.
He grabbed the cold brass knob of the bedroom door. He twisted it open and slipped out into the dark hallway. He closed the door silently behind his back.
He walked straight to the bathroom. He flicked the wall switch. The harsh fluorescent light flickered twice with a loud, electric buzz. He twisted the silver faucet. Cold water rushed rapidly into the white porcelain sink.
He bent down and splashed the freezing water directly onto his face. He rubbed his eyes hard with his wet palms. He grabbed a rough white towel from the metal rack. He scrubbed his face and neck until the skin burned hot.
He dropped the damp towel onto the counter. He stared at his own reflection in the flat glass mirror. He was a complete mess. His dark hair stuck up in wild, sweaty angles and his eyes were wide and heavily bloodshot. He did not look like a normal, rational teenager anymore. He looked exactly like a starving animal.
He turned the bright light off. He walked down the narrow hall into the living room. The heavy silence of the house pressed hard against his eardrums. He needed loud noise. He needed a visual distraction to drown out the phantom heat still burning his palms. He collapsed onto the brown sofa. He grabbed the black remote from the low table. He turned the television on.
The large screen flared with sudden, bright light. A late-night action movie played loudly. A highly attractive actress, Hasekura Ren, filled the wide screen. She threw a vicious high kick at a stuntman.
Her sharp, violent movements were fast and precise. He watched the glowing screen for three solid minutes. The frantic action sequence actually helped quiet his chaotic brain.
Then the movie scene violently shifted.
Ren ducked under a heavy punch. The villain grabbed the collar of her tight black shirt. The fabric ripped violently down the middle with a loud tearing sound. The sudden tear exposed the pale, bare skin of her chest and the dark lace edge of her undergarment.
Zenjiro stopped breathing completely.
The vivid memory hit his chest like an uppercut. The soft skin. The heavy warmth. The exact texture of Clara's bare breast and Liora's exposed thigh flooded straight back into his overloaded nervous system.
He just sat there frozen on the cushions. The movie scene changed to a boring car chase. He did not see the screen anymore. He slowly turned his head to the left. He stared down the long, dark hallway. He looked directly at the closed door of his bedroom. He looked back at the bright television.
He pressed the red button on the remote.
The screen snapped completely black. The living room plunged back into heavy, suffocating darkness. He sat right on the edge of the soft cushions. He leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared intently at the woven tatami mat near his bare feet.
The silence returned. His entire body began to tremble violently in the cold air.
The desperate lie that he could just let the night pass and wake up perfectly normal tomorrow morning completely shattered.
He planted his bare feet firmly against the floorboards.
He stood up.