15. Please Teach Me (2)
It wasn't a place I'd chosen after any great deal of thought.
One—somewhere with reasonably little foot traffic.
Two—somewhere I could reasonably stay hidden.
Three—somewhere Yozora would reasonably like.
I'd been turning those three conditions over when, by chance, the men's restroom on the second floor of this building caught my eye. That was all. If I'd missed it and walked straight out of the building, the scene might just as easily have been set in some cheap motel, or a quiet alley.
As it was, the place was quiet, with no one nearby, and clean enough—whether from someone keeping it diligently, or from the simple fact that no one used it. A backdrop that Yozora, about to be handed her carrot, would probably like a great deal. Out of a hundred, I could give it an eighty-five.
…No. Knowing Yozora, she might have preferred a filthy one.
Hmm.
Forget it. None of this had anything to do with my tastes.
After about ten minutes of looking around, I decided the place would do and took the stall deepest inside the restroom. I set the bag with the manga I'd just bought down beside the toilet, and the rustle easily swallowed the classical music playing overhead. The music would cover a certain amount of noise, but even so, I figured I ought to kill as much sound as I could. Sex in a place like this isn't hot because someone catches you. What gets you hard is skating right up to the edge of being caught, and not quite going over. That much, I could calibrate myself.
I let out a small breath, pulled the phone from my pocket, and sent Yozora a text. I was waiting in the men's restroom on the second floor of the building she was in. Before she came in, she was to message me from outside the door—I'd tell her whether anyone was around.
The little 1 beside the message, the mark that meant she hadn't read it, vanished in less than three seconds.
73
Han Sua found no one around. Only the restrooms, marked with properly distinguishable figures of a man and a woman, rather than those incomprehensible pictograms that had lately been spreading like a plague. It wasn't as if any other shop sat close enough to mix them up, either. The nearest café was all of seven steps off, and that was the closest thing there was. Unless Yozora had taken flight, her scent ought to have lingered even that far.
Han Sua's gaze, which had been resting on the quiet café, turned back to the restrooms.
…Yozora.
She was in there. She had to be.
"……."
But—the restrooms sat flush against each other. What if Yozora had gone into the women's room properly, and she was the one who'd gotten mixed up?
What if I'm the one who's confused?
Without quite meaning to, Han Sua found herself making excuses for Yozora, and slipped into the women's restroom to check. She came right back out. She'd more or less expected it from outside the door. There hadn't been the slightest hint of a presence inside.
Awkwardness. Shame. Caught somewhere between the two, she turned her eyes to the door of the men's restroom.
In there, she could definitely feel someone. And that someone was probably Yozora, and the man Yozora called Master.
The graphic sex at the end of the manga she'd ended up reading on Yozora's recommendation bloomed in her head, soft and heavy as smoke. Was the very same thing happening in there right now? That strangely shaped thing, driven deep into a woman's body again and again, handprints left across a snow-white rear…
Except it was far too quiet in there to think so. The place couldn't possibly be soundproofed that well. So what were they doing?
Han Sua's meager imagination managed to assemble one reasonably convincing scene. Quietly. Having s…sex, quietly, so that no one would find them. Not roughly, the way it happened in the manga. Secretly.
"Haa…."
Honestly, if she turned around and left, that would be the end of it. Whatever was going on in there was Yozora's private life, all of it. She must have hidden it because she was ashamed. If it had been something she could hold her head up about, she wouldn't have buried it so deep. And if Han Sua hung around out here and they ran into each other, wouldn't that be the bigger problem? The one friend she'd finally managed to make might turn right back into zero.
"As expected of a sex country…."
Dangerous curiosity ended here. To protect her friend count, Han Sua folded that curiosity away and slipped off from in front of the restroom as quietly as she could.
"……."
She tried to.
She was already heading for the escalator, and she'd taken a sniff along the way—if anyone happened to be nearby, she meant to make some sign of presence in their place—until, too late, she caught it. Beneath Yozora's thick scent, laid down only moments ago, the school nurse's scent ran faint along the very same path. Until she caught that neither of them had left any trace of going downstairs.
That had been the plan. Han Sua bent her course, just slightly. It didn't take her to the restroom. It took her to the quiet café she'd checked a moment ago.
Curiosity.
It had grown. Just a little more.
"…Piece of trash."
Inside the men's restroom. That was the first thing out of Yozora's mouth, her face crumpling hard, as if she were looking at something revolting.
So was I supposed to throw it back at her—call her a perverted little freak who provokes men on purpose because she wants to get raped? And what would that do to the expression Yozora was working so hard to keep in character? I turned the idle thought over and smiled at her.
What came back, of course, was nothing but loathing, packed to the brim with contempt. A vicious hatred, as if she might spit in my face at any second.
"Keep it down. It's not like the place is empty."
"…Shut up. Dipshit."
"Watch your mouth. You never know when I might change my mind."
"……."
As she said it, Yozora dragged down the zipper of the hoodie she'd pulled all the way up. Her breasts were so full she had to cock her wrist hard to get past them—zzzip—all the way down beneath her chest, until the figure that had looked close to a D while sealed inside the hoodie lost its gentle curve and caved inward.
"…Let go. I can take it off myself."
"Next time. Right now, I'm stripping you with my own hands."
"You perverted bastard, seriously…. I hate you so fucking much…."
I spread the pitch-black hoodie I'd peeled off her open to either side. Inside it, her uniform tie rode over Yozora's breasts, kinked as far as the swell would bend it. A little lower, my eyes stuck fast on a sight so raw I wanted to shove my nose into it and drink the air down, breath after hungry breath.
She was already obscenely hot, and now a filthy shadow that only a prime female could possess had appeared right in front of me, so the blood drove downward, hard and helpless. Right after that came a snicker, like a sneer. I lifted my head and met the red of Yozora's eyes, curved in a sulky smile.
"…You like it, huh. Idiot."
"I do. Taking those photos of you and saving them is how I get to see something like this, too."
"…It's a lump of flesh, at best…. Nngh…."
"Try keeping your mouth shut. You're spoiling the view."
"What if I don't? What if I run my mouth as loud as I want? You rapist bas—"
"Mouth. Shut."
"……."
"…There. Good girl."
I yanked Yozora's uniform tie like a rein, and with her balance gone I pulled her in tight and buried my face in her breasts.
Crazy bitch. Seriously. I used to think she was nothing but a sloppy drunk with a pair of pointlessly huge tits. Turns out she was a brat-kink pervert who had the huge tits, too.
The plush give of her bra came through the smooth uniform shirt. From between her breasts rose Yozora's sweet, heavy scent. Fuck. Fuck. I carved into my brain every quiet curse she was busy pouring into my ear, and then—over the shirt, over the bra—I grabbed. I squeezed those full breasts the way you'd milk something, vulgar and cheap, and crammed them between my lips.
Not that anything would stay on my tongue but the taste of uniform shirt. Still.
"Wh-what are you doing…!"
"Huuu…. To piss you off. You're going to hate it if my spit gets on your clothes, right?"
Because what I got to keep in my ear was Yozora's cute little shock. A sound I hadn't heard once in ten years.
"…You insane fucking pervert."
"That's you. The crazy bitch walking around with a man's spit on her uniform shirt."
"You're the one who did it!!"
"Lower your voice. They'll hear you outside."
"…Fuck, seriously…. There's no getting through to you…. This isn't even like talking to a wall…."
"Now, how about holding the tie in your mouth? I'm undoing the buttons."
"……."
"Come on."
"……."
"If you don't hurry, people are gonna—… Yeah."
Maybe she hated obeying me so meekly. Instead of biting the tie, Yozora lifted it with her hand. I forced the middle of it between her lips anyway, and beneath the tip, dangling and swaying, undid the uniform buttons one by one—fastened with a neatness that didn't suit her at all.
How miserably tight must they have been, all this time? Every button I opened, the shirt sprang apart to either side with a hard little pop, and my cock kept twitching in my pants.
"Isn't the uniform small? Must be tight."
"…Mphhaa…. …It's tight."
"So why wear a small one?"
"Because there isn't a bigger size, so I'm wearing this…! You can't even work that out? Empty skull…?"
She'd opened her mouth, and the tie dropped with a soft thump. Whether she was lashing out like that on purpose to get a rise out of me, I let it wash past and undid every button that was left.
Neatness. Modesty. A fresh, untouched purity. Docility. The uniform was made of words like those. Vulgarity—breasts you could name in a single word. Lewdness—a pure-white bra you could name in a single word of its own. Once both were bare, I hooked a finger under the clasp hovering in the cleft of her chest and hauled it up hard, over her breasts.
Better than taking it off entirely. Tangled together with that pitch-black tie, I figured it'd get me harder. And the sight actually in front of me was, in fact, pretty satisfying.
"Yozora."
"…What."
"Want to have sex?"
"……."
Yozora, lifting the tie to bite it again, faltered for a moment. For all that her mouth was busy sniping—no, this is bullshit, don't, get lost—the broken little reaction she showed whenever I pushed in without warning made her fun to tease.
"Answer me. Sex. Do you want it?"
"…Wh-why are you asking me something like that. You perverted bastard…."
Even perched there, half-astride my thigh. Even fully aware of how hard my cock had swollen in my pants. Even while she was acting her heart out because she wanted me to rape her—could she really not tell why I was asking?
Not a chance.
She just couldn't bear to be honest, so she was needling me, soft and cute. Because that was her taste. Threatened by a man who was garbage. Wanting to be raped.
The thin little laugh that broke out of me lasted only a moment. I yanked Yozora's tie the way I had before, and when she pitched forward and knocked her forehead into my chest, I grabbed her hair and pulled it back.
"Nngh—! Mmph…?! Hhhap……."
Inside the restroom, where sound hummed and hung. Where classical music drifted, low and even. Where something clattered now and then. At some point—
"Hey, go piss somewhere else! Why the fuck are you dropping your pants right next to me?"
"What, 'cause it's small?"
"Your mom."
Two nameless men had walked in, their footsteps thudding across the tile, and that was why. Ragged breathing—like someone hiding in a stall with porn—I could have risked. The sound of pinning Yozora hard against the door and driving into her, thud after thud, as much as I pleased, soaked and relentless: that sound, I still couldn't make.