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The humidity of the Tokyo summer clung to the skin like a second layer of clothing, heavy and stifling. In the secluded garden of the Kugisaki estate, the air was filled with the scent of chlorine, grilled meat, and the occasional burst of laughter. Nobara had insisted on this gathering, claiming that after the string of high-grade exorcisms they had all endured, a pool day was a non-negotiable requirement for their mental health.

Yumi sat on the edge of a wooden lounge chair, dangling her feet in the crystal-clear water. She felt somewhat out of place, a small, waifish figure amidst the powerful physiques of her friends. To her left, Nobara was lounging in a vibrant red swimsuit that accentuated her curves, her confidence radiating as brightly as the sun. Yumi looked down at her own reflection. She was wearing a bikini top that felt a little too loose and a denim miniskirt she’d borrowed from Nobara. Because Nobara was more curvaceous, the skirt sat dangerously high on Yumi’s hips. Every time she shifted or leaned forward to grab a drink, the frayed hem rode up, exposing the pale, soft curve of her lower backside.

She didn't think much of it. In her mind, she was "the small one," the girl who blended into the background while people like Nobara or the boys commanded the room. She assumed that if any of the men were looking, their eyes were glued to Nobara’s bold silhouette or perhaps distracted by Yuji and Megumi’s competitive splashing in the shallow end.

"Yumi, pass me a soda, would you?" Nobara called out, not looking up from her magazine.

Yumi stood up, the denim skirt hiking up even further as she reached across the glass table. "Sure, here you go."

She was completely oblivious to the sudden silence that fell over the patio. Yuji, who had been mid-sentence, suddenly found something very interesting to look at in the bottom of the pool. Megumi turned his head away, clearing his throat awkwardly and adjusting his sunglasses.

But Yuta Okkotsu didn't look away.

He was sitting on a bench a few feet back, a glass of iced tea held loosely in his hand. From his vantage point, the view was agonizing. The way the sunlight caught the fine down on the small of her back, the way the denim strained against her skin, and the tantalizing glimpse of her flesh—it was a sensory overload he wasn't prepared for.

Yuta was known for his gentle demeanor and his immense, often frightening, cursed energy. But right now, his internal energy was swirling for an entirely different reason. They had been dating for a few weeks now, a relationship built on quiet conversations, shared meals, and chaste kisses at her doorstep. He adored her sweetness, her unassuming nature. But he was also a man, and seeing her like this—exposed, vulnerable, and yet so casually unaware of her own effect on him—was pushing him to a breaking point.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his glass. Beneath his calm exterior, a dark, primal urge was clawing at his restraint. He wanted to pull her away from the group, to hide her from the wandering eyes of the world, and to show her exactly how "hot" he thought she was. The thought of bending her over that very table, stripping that tiny skirt away, and claiming her until she forgot her own name was a vivid, pulsing image in his mind.

"Yuta? You okay? You’re staring into space," Yumi said, walking over to him with a tilted head and a concerned smile.

The skirt swished with her movements, barely covering anything. Yuta took a slow, steadying breath, his eyes darkening. "I'm fine, Yumi. Just the heat."

"It is really hot," she agreed, wiping a bead of sweat from her collarbone. "Do you want to get in the pool? The water feels amazing."

"Maybe later," he replied, his voice a fraction deeper than usual. "I think I’ve had enough sun for now."

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of torture for Yuta. Every time Yumi laughed, every time she stretched, he felt the tension in his lower belly tighten. He played the part of the polite boyfriend, engaging in small talk with Megumi and laughing at Yuji’s antics, but his focus never left her.

When the sun finally began to dip below the horizon, casting long, orange shadows across the garden, the group started to pack up.

"I can drive you home," Yuta said, his hand finding the small of Yumi’s back. The touch was electric, and he felt her shiver slightly, though she likely attributed it to the cooling evening air.

"That would be great, thank you," she said, gathering her things.

The car ride was quiet. Yumi chatted about the day, her voice a soft melody that usually calmed him, but tonight it only served to heighten his anticipation. Yuta kept his eyes on the road, his jaw set. He was driving slightly faster than usual, his mind already three steps ahead, inside her apartment.

They reached her building, a modest complex in a quiet neighborhood. Yuta followed her up the stairs, his footsteps heavy behind her. As soon as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The door hadn't even fully clicked shut before Yuta’s restraint snapped.

He dropped his keys on the small entryway table and reached for her, spinning her around. Before she could ask what was wrong, his mouth was on hers. It wasn't the gentle, hesitant kiss of their previous dates; it was hungry, demanding, and possessive.

"Yuta?" she gasped against his lips, her hands coming up to rest on his chest.

He didn't answer with words. He backed her against the wall, his hands sliding down to the hem of that cursed denim skirt. He didn't bother unbuttoning it; he simply bunched the fabric up in his fists, his palms meeting the warmth of her bare skin. He groaned into the hollow of her neck, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his arousal.

"I've been wanting to do this all day," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

Yumi’s head fell back, her breath hitching. She had never seen this side of him—the raw, unbridled intensity of a man who had reached his limit. "I... I didn't know," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You never do," Yuta muttered. He made quick work of her clothes, his movements efficient and urgent. The bikini top was discarded, then the skirt and her underwear. He stripped himself with equal haste, his eyes never leaving her small, trembling form.

He lifted her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He carried her to the bed, laying her down and looming over her like a shadow. He didn't waste time. He parted her legs and entered her in one smooth, forceful thrust.

Yumi let out a sharp cry, her fingers clutching at the bedsheets. It was overwhelming, the sensation of him filling her so completely. Yuta moved with a desperate rhythm, his body slick with sweat. He was focused entirely on her, on the way her eyes blew wide and the way she called his name in a broken whimper.

He felt the build-up, the inevitable peak approaching. He shifted his weight, driving deeper, harder, until he couldn't hold back any longer. With a low growl, he emptied himself inside her, the heat of his release flooding her.

But he wasn't done. The frustration of the day hadn't been fully purged. He rolled her over onto her stomach, his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress. He didn't give her a moment to recover before he was pressing against her again, this time seeking a tighter, more demanding entrance.

Yumi buried her face in the pillow, a muffled moan escaping her as he pushed into her rear. It was a different kind of intensity, a sharp, stretching fullness that made her toes curl. Yuta was relentless, his pace frantic as he chased a second climax. He was marking her, claiming every inch of her, making sure she understood exactly how much he wanted her.

When he finished for the second time, he collapsed against her back for a brief moment, his breathing ragged. But the dark energy that had taken hold of him hadn't quite dissipated.

He pulled back and sat up, reaching down to grab her chin and tilting her head up. Yumi looked up at him, her eyes glazed and her lips bruised from his kisses. He stood over her, his presence commanding the small space of the bedroom.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

She obeyed, her gaze fixed on him. Yuta took himself in his hand, his movements deliberate. He leaned over her face, the blunt head of his length slapping against her cheek, a stark contrast to the softness of her skin. Yumi’s breath caught, her pupils dilating.

Then, he guided himself into her mouth. He didn't go slow; he pushed deep, forcing her to take him, to feel the sheer scale of him. He moved with a steady, rhythmic pressure until he felt the familiar tension return to his core.

With a final, sharp thrust, he came again, the hot saltiness of his seed filling her mouth. He held her there for a moment, ensuring she took every drop, watching as she swallowed, her throat working under his gaze.

Only then did the tension finally leave his shoulders. He withdrew and sat back on the edge of the bed, the silence of the room returning, punctuated only by their synchronized, heavy breathing.

Yumi sat up slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at him, not with fear, but with a newfound, dazed realization.

"You really... you really think I'm that hot?" she asked, her voice small and shaky.

Yuta reached out, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. His expression had softened back into the gentle man she knew, but the fire in his eyes remained.

"Yumi," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And if you wear that skirt again, I might not make it to the car next time."

Yumi blushed a deep, crimson red, finally understanding the power she held over him. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as the summer night finally began to cool around them.