Type: Novel Translation
Title: Yokozawa Takafumi no Baai 6
Series: Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi
Author/Circle: Nakamura Shungiku, Fujisaki Miyako
Rating: NC-17
Language: English
Forum Discussion: HERE
Notes: You can also view the book in-progress on Pressbooks for what’s likely a more pleasant reading experience!
This time: Kirishima and Yokozawa enjoy some time alone with Hiyo away…though not necessarily in the way you’re probably thinking (or not just in that way…).
Chapter 11 (cont.)
“How does the finished product look, from your perspective?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see~ Though given that Yasuda’s reassured me he’s gone all out, I’m sure it won’t hurt you to keep your expectations high.”
Yokozawa gave a start at that name falling from Kirishima’s lips—Yasuda Gou. He was the anime producer in charge of the Za Kan movie. Yokozawa had spoken to him on two occasions thus far, but the guy marched to the beat of his own drum, leaving Yokozawa frankly a bit hesitant on how to engage him.
“Yasuda-san, huh… He’s as strange a character as the rumors make him out to be.” The reason he was so on-guard at the mere mention of the man’s name was probably because Yasuda had figured out the true nature of his and Kirishima’s relationship at their very first meeting. Those eyes, hidden behind glasses and fringed in long lashes, left one feeling as if he could see right through them to their deepest, darkest secrets.
“Yeah, you could say that. He certainly ranks high among Marukawa’s oddballs. But despite his eccentricities, he absolutely oozes talent.”
“I see…” Kirishima’s expression and wording clearly related how much he respected and acknowledged Yasuda, but while Yokozawa could—even as a casual viewer—recognize how amazing Yasuda was, based on his works, it was still quite rare for Kirishima to be so unrestrained in praising someone.
Yasuda was an eccentric phantom of a man—something Yokozawa had heard long before he ever actually met him—and everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. Of course, all of the works that received mixed media release were almost entirely pieces that were quite popular to begin with. Because they already had a confirmed following, plans for subsequent projects could proceed with confidence. But Yasuda also liked to proactively take on relatively unremarkable works that had never enjoyed any measure of popularity before, and spurning the doubts of others within the company, he’d elevated these pieces to great epics, shoving them into the spotlight.
The company president apparently had great faith in Yasuda’s eye and skill and appeared to be letting him do as he would. Many of the rumors Yokozawa had heard over the years sounded rather far-fetched, but now that he’d met the man face to face, he was still bowled over by his good looks.
Yasuda was a contemporary of Kirishima’s, which put him in his mid-30s, but he could have easily passed for someone in their early 20s, and his handsome features almost seemed as if he’d been built that way. He had silky black hair and pale porcelain skin, with a lithe body build and delicate features that would have been at home on any runway model. The way it was practically impossible to tell his age was somewhat reminiscent of a certain editor over in Emerald, too… Then, at their very first meeting, after realizing that Yokozawa and Kirishima were in a relationship together, he’d informed them that he was bisexual himself.
His astounding speech and conduct had left Yokozawa unable to do anything but gape in shock, but he was certain anyone would have reacted that way under the same circumstances.
“But he’s a total failure as a working adult, y’know. He’s selfish and egotistical and stubborn, and he never sticks to schedules or deadlines. I can’t tell you how often I’ve had to run around and clean up after him.” Kirishima’s tone spoke heavily of personal experience; he was probably reliving even more of these escapades inside his mind than he actually spoke of. “And yet…unreasonable as he may be…I still put up with him for some reason. I guess you could say the strange inability for anyone to truly loathe him is another talent of his. There’s seriously no competing with guys as blessed as him!”
“You’ve churned out your fair share of best-sellers, too.” As far as Yokozawa was concerned, Kirishima was one of those ‘blessed few’ as well.
“I’m just lucky; I only come across these decent reads by chance—the authors are the ones with the real talent.”
“You’ve got skills of your own.” Surely he was being far too modest; no matter how talented the author, the editor—the very first reader—was the one who really pulled out the allure in their work.
“I suppose so; I like to think I lend a helping hand, at least.”
“You do a hell of a lot more than ‘lend a helping hand’.”
“I like to do my homework for any job; I do some market research, some calculations, determine what sort of story readers are hungering for these days, what sort of characters they’d like to see, and then I discuss my findings with the author. Though, granted—this is all part and parcel of being an editor.”
Kirishima was definitely a curious one; he could always be found with a book in hand in his limited spare time, and he was sure to check out popular anime and dramas whenever he found the time. If anything caught his eye, he would look it up immediately, and he placed great importance on meeting people, going out of his way to make new acquaintances. Whenever one of Hiyori’s friends dropped by the apartment for a playdate, he would even ply them indirectly for hints on the latest fads.
This was likely how he anticipated the Next Big Thing; even if he wasn’t 100% infallible on this point, he always managed to point himself in the right direction. Even Yokozawa, with his Sales background, could understand this intuition of his.
Keeping an eye on the marketplace was important for a salesman as well. Just by reading the numbers, he could predict to some extent what sorts of books would sell well in the future. As a greenhorn, he’d been groping about in the dark without much of a clue what was going on, but now he felt he’d gotten the hang of things. He could sense when a book was probably going to sell well—though this could also just be a product of experience.
“Geniuses are far removed from the reach of us ordinary folks. I’m just glad to be of service, in the meantime.”
“But because you’ve got good senses yourself, you’re able to pull it off, don’t you see?”
“Rather than any sort of ‘senses’, it’s just a knack for taking an objective view of a given situation. Intuition has its uses, but being overconfident in your own abilities can also hamstring you. Something may suit your personal tastes, but if it doesn’t appeal to readers on the street, they’re never going to pick it up.”
“I see.”
“I mean sure, I take pride in my work, but when I see Yasuda’s genius way of handling his job, there are definitely times I admittedly feel jealous. I mean, we’re contemporaries, after all; that really pissed me off when I was younger, though I still admired him for it. But alas, if wishes were horses…”
“Yeah, I guess…” For a moment, Yokozawa felt a pang slice through his chest—but when he tried to contemplate the source of the sensation, Kirishima’s voice distracted him.
“So, that being the case—unfortunately, after this weekend, we won’t have the time to cuddle and flirt for a while.”
“Huh? What’re you talking about? It’s not like it can be helped—work is work.” He gawked openly at the way Kirishima’s shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh. “For a while” would undoubtedly turn out to be a month at best; it was nothing to be so dramatic over.
“Aww, c’mon—would it kill you to act a little disappointed at least? Good grief, I can’t believe you’re giving me the same speed Hiyo did…”
“What’d she say?”
“‘It’s your job, so there’s no helping it, right?’ Even today, she must have realized I was pretty busy and said she was going to spend the night at her grandmother’s place herself.”
“She’s pretty mature, that kid.” He had no difficulty imagining Hiyori saying that sort of thing, and he pasted on a wry smile. Perhaps because of her living situation, she could be quite mature at times. She’d probably chastised him with a serious expression on her features, too.
“She is, at that. Thanks to you, she’s growing into a fine young woman.”
“Only because you raised her right.” Kirishima had done splendidly as a single father, raising his daughter. While he depended on his parents for a lot of things, the reason Hiyori had grown into such an honest, hard-working child was undoubtedly because of the great example her father set. Despite his busy schedule, he carved out as much free time as possible to spend with his daughter.
“Right?? …Is what I’d like to say, but for the most part, it’s my mom’s doing. I never could’ve managed it on my own.”
“She’s a girl, after all.”
“These days, she takes care of me more than the other way around. And her talkative nature’s something I can blame on my mother, too.”
“You run your mouth quite a bit yourself.” Yokozawa hardly ever won contests of verbal jabs against him, after all. Any objections he made were eventually turned around on him and, in his confusion, he wound up being forced to agree with any proposals on the table. Hiyori’s own quick thinking was likely inherited from her father—she had moments where she kind of spaced out, but by and large, she was a sharp child.
“You think? I always thought I was pretty normal.”
“You’re the only one who thinks that, trust me.” It was hard to tell if he was playing dumb or if he truly didn’t realize it; if Kirishima’s level of speech in a given day were the norm, the world would be a much noisier place indeed. “Still, without Hiyo around…it’s pretty quiet, huh.”
The apartment felt a little different when Hiyo wasn’t here; it was strange how, simply by her absence, it felt like another home entirely.
“True…but some time alone now and then isn’t so bad.”
“…Sorata’s here too, you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to just duck his head in agreement, firing back a retort to disguise his shame.
“Sorata headed into Hiyo’s room to sleep; wasn’t that nice of him? He really can take a hint.”
“He just likes her room, that’s all!” Cats were finicky, moody animals; they didn’t do things just because they thought their humans wanted them to. Quite the opposite, they more often than not completely ignored how inconvenient their actions might be.
For Yokozawa, though, he wished the cat were around right about now.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“Just…I thought, you know…I’d go brush my teeth…”
“You just brushed them earlier. Aren’t you a little young to be forgetting things?”
“………” He’d groped for any possible excuse to leave the room—and that had been his undoing. Before he could come up with another reason, though, Kirishima drew in close, reducing the space between them.
“Don’t run away.”
“You’re too close!” Kirishima’s face suddenly so close to his own gave him a start; at this distance, he could clearly make out his irises: a soft, light tea brown. The same as Hiyori’s.
“You’re never gonna get used to this, are you?”
“I’m…just not good with sudden moves.”
“So you’re saying if I didn’t spring things on you, you’d be just fine? Then how about I give you fair warning next time?”
Kirishima leaned in another few centimeters, and Yokozawa responded by leaning backwards. “I keep telling you, you’re too close!” If he kept leanining back like this, he was going to fall flat on his ass.
“If I don’t move in close, though, I can’t kiss you.”
“Then how about you just don’t do it?”
“But I want to. Though I’m not too picky about the location.”
“Hey—don’t lift up my shirt!” He found himself shoved down onto the sofa with the t-shirt he’d just pulled on promptly shoved up. The shirt was one of the items of clothing he kept stored here with the Kirishimas.
“What, it’s not like it’s anything to be embarrassed about, right?”
“I don’t like the look in your eyes!” He lightly slapped away Kirishima’s hand and tugged the hem of the shirt back down. It wasn’t that he found the situation embarrassing, as they were both men, but when he stopped to think about what frame of mind Kirishima was appreciating him in, he just couldn’t keep calm. Plus, this was an ‘everyday space’—Hiyori played here, so he balked at the notion of doing anything in this sort of location.
“The look in my eyes?”
“Just, you look like…”
“What, like I’m entertaining indecent thoughts? God you’re an idiot; if we’re gonna do indecent things, then I kind of have to look at you that way. What sort of a saint are you, exactly?” Kirishima laughed, which only served to stoke Yokozawa’s ire further. There was nothing to be done about not being used to things he was never going to be used to, after all.
“Shut up! I’m saying that kind of suggestive shit is annoying, that’s all!”
“Your face is red as a tomato, you know.”
“Whatever.” The more he talked, the deeper the hole he was digging for himself. Despite his constant efforts not to say anything out of line that he’d wind up regretting, he tended to just snap whenever Kirishima riled him up.
“And it’s expressions like that that make me want to take advantage of you.”
“Uwah—d-don’t tickle me!” But Kirishima was attacking him on all sides, a broad grinning leer on his face. Yokozawa tried to restrain his hands to make him stop, but the guy kept wriggling free.
“Wow, you sure are ticklish… Like right here…”
“Sto—I said, cut it out…!” Despite his serious protests, though, Kirishiima seemed to have no intentions of halting his attacks.
“And…here?”
“……!” Kirishima’s fingers brushed lightly over his chest, and he sucked in a tense breath—and Kirishima seized his opportunity.
“Gotcha!”
“Uwah!” His shoulders were sharply shoved, and he fell down flat on his back on the couch, his head finding cushioning against the armrest. It didn’t hurt, given the padding, but the jolt of the impact could have given him a nasty bump against the back of his head. “That was dangerous, idiot!”
“I held back; it didn’t hurt, right?”
“Don’t just climb on top of people!” Kirishima lay flopped on top of him, and he gave a great shove at his shoulder, spurning his kiss. It wasn’t that Yokozawa didn’t want to kiss him, necessarily, only that he didn’t want to let himself get swept away in the moment.
“You know, Yokozawa, this hand of yours is kind of in the way; mind moving it?”
“Do you not get it? I’m rejecting you.”
“You’re being awfully stubborn today. C’mon, a little bit won’t hurt, right?”
“Your ‘little bit’ is a hell of a lot more than just a little bit! Now cut it out!” Trying to dislodge him by hand was clearly not working, so he tried involving his legs as well. He braced his feet against Kirishima’s stomach, and with a shove, finally heaved him off.
“Hey now—using your legs wasn’t fair.”
“Shut up; that’s your opinion.” If he didn’t resort to such tactics, after all, he’d never be able to compete with Kirishima, so it was kind of unavoidable. It seemed it was high time the guy learned that he was sorely mistaken if he thought he would get his way every time they came to blows like this.
“Well, I’m afraid I must inform you that if you think you’ve turned the tables now…you’re quite wrong.”
“Huh? Uwah—!”
Kirishima grabbed the ankle nearest to him and gave a great tug, causing Yokozawa to bump his head on the arm rest once more.
“Hey, your toenails are getting kinda long.”
“I—I was just thinking I needed to trim them. Anyway—lemme go!”
“All right then, I’ll cut them for you.”
Yokozawa froze at the unexpected suggestion. “It’s fine! I can do it myself!” He would never have imagined things would work out like this; Kirishima just grinned down at him, in high spirits—as if he’d just had the greatest idea—in stark contrast to the panicking Yokozawa.
“This sure takes me back! I used to trim Hiyo’s for her all the time.”
“Don’t get carried away! Hey!”
Kirishima pulled out the box under the coffee table for storing small items and rifled through it until he found the nail clippers, all the while keeping a tight grip on Yokozawa’s ankle. “Now now, settle down. What if my hand should slip?”
“H-hey don’t say scary shit like that…” Kirishima’s words were clearly a veiled threat; even if the blade wasn’t exposed, nail clippers were still a bladed object.
“Don’t worry; I’m confident in my skills,” he boasted, full of confidence, but Yokozawa felt only apprehension.
“…Wait a minute, aren’t you stupidly awkward?!” Letting a guy who couldn’t even properly peel an apple to cut one’s toenails was just begging for trouble.
“Being awkward or not doesn’t matter when you’re just trimming someone’s nails.”
“The hell it doesn’t!” There was a world of difference between the soft nails of a child and the hardened ones of an adult. This was definitely not going to be as easy as Kirishima thought it would.
“So you don’t trust your lover? This is the sort of thing that can bring about discord in a relationship, you know…”
“…Whatever, have it your way.” He couldn’t see himself succeeding in changing Kirishima’s mind now, and rather than having finally prepared himself, it was more like the urge to surrender had sapped all his strength. The worst that could happen was that his nail would be cut to the quick.
However, he couldn’t bring himself to actually watch the deed being done, so he settled his head back on the arm of the sofa and turned his gaze up to the ceiling.
“There’s a good boy.”
“………” He’d lost the will to fight back now, though, and just relaxed in defeat, exhausted. Soft click…click… snipping sounds filtered into his ears, but given that he wasn’t in pain (yet, at least), he supposed things weren’t going too horribly.
The last time he’d had someone trim his nails for him had been when he was a child—and the worry and embarrassing discomfort blended together, leaving him feeling quite conflicted. “Just…hurry it up already.”
“Don’t rush me. Is there any particular length you prefer?”
“Not really. So long as they’re not in my way.”
No, what bothered him was how—despite the fact that he was just clipping Yokozawa’s nails—the way Kirishima was touching him was so…indecent. He was only holding his toes in position, but it was so embarrassing it was almost unbearable. Plus, he couldn’t afford to thoughtlessly move his foot, and he desperately wanted to avoid Kirishima learning of yet another weak spot on his body.
“Hey, how big are your feet? Are you bigger than me?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Then I’ve got you beat by a half-centimeter.”
“I’ve got high arches and a wide sole.” He’d never had any issues with sneakers, but finding leather shoes to fit his feet had always been a trial. Even if the length fit him, the width might be too tight, or the opposite.
“I see… Now that you mention it, you do look bulkier than me.”
“…Don’t touch me like that.” Kirishima had brushed his fingers gently over the sole, as if testing the thickness.
“Sorry—did it tickle?”
“You’re not sorry.” His words might have been ones of apology, but he had a broad grin on his features, which left Yokozawa with a very bad feeling. “Anyway—you’re done now, right?” On lifting his head, he checked to see that all ten toes had been cleanly clipped down, so he sought release from Kirishima’s grip.
But Kirishima remained firm. “No way; I haven’t filed them yet.”
“Huh? I’m not a chick. You don’t have to do that.” He couldn’t bear being stuck in this kind of position for much longer. He never did such annoying things as that usually, and while he did take care of his fingernails—being a salesman and all—he’d never been all that concerned with the state of his toes.
“If I just leave them like this, though, a nail might get caught on your sock.”
“That’s never happened even once before.” He always left them as they were after clipping and had never suffered from doing so. People invested in caring for their nails were free to do as they would, but he had no intention of filing them smooth himself.
“But it might happen. And I’ve told you I’ll do it for you, so don’t be shy.”
“I’m not being shy”
“Come on.” His tone was gentle, but he still kept his grip firm about Yokozawa’s ankle. Despite what protests might come, he clearly had no intention of letting go, enjoying himself at Yokozawa’s expense.
He began to file away at the freshly trimmed toes with the emory board on the back of the clippers. Yokozawa simply watched warily, with Kirishima looking like he might start humming any moment now; what was he playing at?
“……!” Kirishima released a puff of air over Yokozawa’s foot to blow away any shavings left behind by the filing, and while the sensation of his nails being filed down had been uncomfortable enough, the feeling of warm breath over the sensitive skin of his foot was unbearably itchy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He was done for if Kirishima thought he was reacting to his touch even the slightest, so he grit his teeth quietly and steeled himself—though his focus was shot now.
“Hey…is this maybe a sweet spot for you?”
“Like hell.”
“Really, now?” He slipped a finger between Yokozawa’s toes, rubbing the sensitive skin there, and Yokozawa reacted with a jerk
“Stop it—don’t mess around with other people’s bodies!” But it was too late now.
“Looks like I found someone’s weak point~ I never would’ve pegged you to have ticklish feet.” Kirishima was positively brimming with glee now, and Yokozawa grit his teeth in defeat, realizing he couldn’t refute the accusation. He’d completely forgotten he was ticklish there. But tickling feet was a childish game—not something grown men ought to be playing at.
“Try anything funny and I’ll kick your ass.”
“By ‘funny’, would you mean…something like this?” He leaned down to press his lips gently to the jutting ankle bone, and Yokozawa inhaled softly—if he said yes, then things would only escalate from here, but even if he denied it, Kirishima would likely not stop at this point. As he groped for a response, though, Kirishima gave a sharp tug on his foot, pulling his head from where it rested against the arm of the sofa and sending him toppling over.
“What the—hell are you doing?!”
“Well if I don’t spring things on you, then you won’t be a good boy and let me pin you, right?” Kirishima had his hands braced on either side of Yokozawa’s head, blocking out the light from the ceiling above and casting his entire field of vision into shadow.
“What about my nails?” The nail clippers were sitting on the coffee table now, and Yokozawa bit back the urge to complain Who was the one who made up some cock and bull reason just so he’d have an excuse to fondle my feet?
“That’s hardly important now.”
“That’s certainly not what you were saying earlier!” He could only gape in shock at the selfish whimsy with which Kirishima was carrying on. It was impossible to be angry given how unabashedly ridiculous the guy was behaving.
“I’m taking into account the mood.”
“No, you’re getting carried away!”
“Aww, you’re too kind.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.” This witty repartee Kirishima liked to engage in was utterly exhausting; Kirishima was probably enjoying the whole thing, so all it amounted to was a futile battle on Yokozawa’s part.
“Come on, things were just starting to get good… Show me a little love, will ya?”
“What part of this looks good…?” He’d been pinned down against his will—that certainly didn’t sound like things were ‘getting good’ to Yokozawa.
“Well you’re not really as pissed off as you’d like me to believe, right?”
“What’s that supposed to…”
“You know fully well your scary expressions won’t work on me—not with the way your cheeks flush at the drop of a hat at times like this.”
“—!!” At Kirishima’s comment, Yokozawa swiftly brought a hand up to shield his face from sight—though at this point, he would’ve rather just scratch out Kirishima’s eyes entirely.
“And what exactly are you hoping to accomplish, hiding your head like that?”
“……!” Kirishima slipped a hand up the cuff of the shorts Yokozawa was wearing, kneading his thigh suggestively, and Yokozawa grit his teeth at the sensation akin to being ticklish once again rearing its head. “Are you…having fun groping my hard legs?”
“Of course I am. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“No comment.”
“That’s always your fall-back response when things aren’t going your way. Though I don’t suppose I mind all that much, since I interpret it as I like.”
“Ngh, don’t…get so full of yourself…”
“It’s just the two of us; I’m all but expected to be a little giddy,” he whispered gruffly, pressing his lips just below Yokozawa’s ear, and a trembling shudder rushed down his spine.
“…Let’s at least change locations. I don’t want to do it here,” he allowed, finally giving in. If he couldn’t get Kirishima to stop, he at least wanted to move to the bedroom. This was space he shared with Hiyori in their day-to-day lives—and he didn’t want to do this sort of thing there.
“What, it’s too embarrassing if we don’t do it in a proper bed?”
“Yeah, sure, that’s it.” The reason wasn’t important—or so he thought, responding easily to Kirishima’s question. But the expression Kirishima fixed him with in return said he wasn’t satisfied with that reasoning at all. “…What’s with that face?”
“It’s no fun if you’re not being fussy and embarrassed.”
Yokozawa fixed him with an expression of utter shock that Kirishima could admit something like that with a straight face. “You…are a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Any time he expressed his discomfort, the guy always told him not to be so shy—and yet now, when he was accepting things easily, he was ordered to be embarrassed? There was just now winning when you humored a man as inconsistent in his words and actions as Kirishima.
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“Don’t say that with a straight face!” Yokozawa snapped in a sharp retort, and Kirishima let out a loud bark of laughter.
“But don’t you think you’re partly to blame as well, for going so easy on such an annoying guy as me?”
“Don’t try to push the blame on me!”
“Aww, you’re cute when you’re angry~”
“—!!” He was at a loss for how to deal with someone like Kirishima, always ready with some witty comeback. But maybe it was times just like this, when he couldn’t bring himself to really blow up at the guy, that he was exactly as Kirishima described: far too easy on him. He finally gave up any further protests, exhausted.
“Nngh…”
It always seemed like, no matter how much he fought it, things always went Kirishima’s way in the end—and after much goading and coaxing, here he was, straddling Kirishima’s hips. “Hnngh…” He held his breath against the mounting pressure of something being forced into his body. Perhaps the reason it was still so hard going, after all this time and so many joinings, was because this wasn’t exactly a natural act in the first place.
The fact that they were cresting that hurdle in an effort to achieve physical pleasure, though, just went to show what lusty creatures humans were.
“……!”
“We changed locations, just as requested, so let me hear that sweet voice.”
Kirishima gave his straining thighs a playful slap, and Yokozawa fixed him with an exhausted glare. The way he spoke all high-and-mighty grated horribly, and he struggled to recall just when Kirishima had found himself in a position where he had the right to make requests.
“I’m…the one who…finally gave in here.”
“What’re you talking about? I compromised for you. Well whatever; I guess we’ll just call that a difference of opinion.” He spoke as if he’d just concluded the matter one-sidedly.
“Why…do you always act so damn self-important…?”
“Can’t help it; it’s just my nature.”
“So contrary…”
“Hey, you gave up, right?; or else you wouldn’t let me fuck you after all that song and dance.”
“Wha…?!”
“So why don’t we stifle the conversation for now?”
“Huh?!” He opened his mouth to deliver a thorough tongue lashing to the irritatingly leering Kirishima—when a sharp thrust pulled a moan from his throat instead. He’d completely forgotten the position he was in; sure, he might have been the one looking down on Kirishima physically, but Kirishima was most assuredly the one in control of the situation.
How on earth had he let himself fall in love with such an irritating man?
People liked to go on about the ‘weakness of love’, and he did sometimes wonder if he’d made the right decision, but it was too late to turn back now.
“For the time being, focus on the task at hand.”
“Ah—ah! Nn…!” Kirishima began to thrust into him from below, and he lost all faculties of speech as the pleasure shuddering up and down his spine paralyzed his limbs. He was out of breath, exhausted now, and Kirishima took him by the hips and began to lift and lower him in swift succession. The stimulation seemed to wring from him a moan he would never have believed came from his own throat.
“Don’t clench up so tight.”
“Not…my fault…” He could hardly be expected to retain control over his body in such a situation. Spangles of pleasure shot up his spine with each punching thrust, but the sounds filtering from his lips couldn’t form coherent responses.
“Hey, that’s your body there.”
“Nngh…aah…!” Kirishima used the abdominal muscles he’d worked so hard to cultivate and increased the intensity of his upward thrusts, gripping Yokozawa by the hips to keep him from fleeing and pounding relentlessly up into his body.
He could only hold on and ride out the wave of punching thrusts, the generously applied lubricant contributing to the obscene squelching sounds echoing around the room.
“Try doing a little more work yourself; surely you’re not giving up already, right?”
“…Your funeral,” he growled, fixing Kirishima with a glare as he goaded Yokozawa on, and promptly collected himself, pulling his exhausted, pleasure-wracked body back into line, and began his counterattack.
To be continued…