To Naoki, Konomi's earlier intrusion was merely a minor distraction. Bell, however, couldn't afford to be so nonchalant.
She only snapped back to reality when the tingling sensation in her chest—which had momentarily faded due to her shock—returned with full intensity. Like a tide that had receded only to surge back even stronger, the feeling spread from the tips of her breasts throughout her entire body in an instant.
When she looked down, Bell was left speechless, realizing that at some point, Naoki had quietly resumed nursing at her breast.
"N-Naoki-kun!"
Her voice was half-whisper, half-stifled shriek. Her trembling fingers gripped Naoki's shoulders, but not with enough strength to push—or perhaps, she didn't truly want to.
"This isn't the right time for this! Konomi-san already saw us!"
Bell bit her lower lip hard, just enough to suppress the moan rising in her throat. Her eyes darted anxiously toward the closed door, as if Konomi might leap from behind the wood at any moment and catch them in this position again.
"..."
Naoki didn't answer immediately.
His lips remained pressed against her skin, and for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to the girl, he continued exactly what he was doing. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he wanted to finish one last "bite" before speaking.
Finally, he pulled away—only slightly, just enough to speak, his lips still grazing the surface of her skin as he murmured.
"And?"
"Huh?"
His calm reaction left Bell utterly bewildered.
"Relax, Bell." As Naoki spoke, his hand began to move again, one palm gently kneading her breast. "Konomi isn't the type to gossip. She won't tell a soul what she saw."
"But—"
Bell tried to argue, but the words died in her throat when Naoki's fingers—whether by accident or design—brushed against her peak, which had been taut for some time.
"Hey, Bell."
Naoki lifted his head, locking eyes with Bell's, which were still misty with shame and panic.
"Have you ever been kissed?"
"N-No..."
The answer came in a voice so small and fragile it was nearly lost beneath the thundering of her own heart. Bell didn't know why she answered honestly. Perhaps it was because she couldn't lie with Naoki looking at her like that. Perhaps because she didn't want to.
"Want to try it with me?"
"...Um."
After a heavy silence that lasted several seconds, Bell finally gave a slow, slight nod.
(As expected of an ecchi anime heroine—their mindsets are incredibly liberal!)
Naoki compared the situation to his knowledge from his previous life, recalling the anime genres he'd consumed during his youth.
(If this were a heroine from a pure rom-com, never mind lewd acts like breast-sucking, a kiss would be considered the absolute limit. Even just holding hands in public is usually enough to make them implode from sheer embarrassment. But in this world, those boundaries feel much more blurred.)
Sidelining those irrelevant thoughts, Naoki placed both hands on Bell's trembling shoulders. At that same moment, she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for what was to come.
Without hesitation, Naoki leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.
At first, it was just a touch. He felt the texture of Bell's lips—soft, a bit dry from nerves, but warm. Her mouth was slightly open—unintentionally, perhaps because she'd forgotten how to close it, or perhaps because she was too nervous to remember the shape of her own lips.
Naoki didn't waste the opportunity.
His tongue flicked out, tracing her lips gently. He felt her flinch—a tiny tremor that traveled from her mouth to her entire body—but she didn't pull back. She didn't push. She just stood there and trembled, letting him do as he pleased.
Then, Naoki's tongue pushed inside.
First, it met the barrier of Bell's tightly locked teeth—a natural reflex, the final defense of a body that didn't know how to react. Naoki didn't force it. He simply applied a gentle, steady pressure, like someone knocking on a door before entering someone else's home.
Then, her teeth parted.
One by one, they relaxed, clearing a path for Naoki's tongue to enter a new space that was warm and moist. When his tongue touched hers for the first time, he felt her shudder—her whole body quaked like leaves caught in a gale.
Bell didn't know where to go or what to do. Her tongue remained still, passive, like a small animal hiding in a corner when a predator enters its territory.
Naoki guided her.
He swirled his tongue around hers. Slowly, her tongue began to respond—the movements were clumsy and awkward, but she was trying. Bell followed the rhythm Naoki created, attempting to mimic the small motions of his tongue.
Inside her head, Bell couldn't think.
Everything she knew about the world—about right and wrong, propriety and indecency, the boundaries she had guarded for so long—all of it melted like wax held to a flame. All that remained was sensation: Naoki's tongue inside her mouth, her own tongue moving without permission, his hands still on her shoulders but now sliding up to her neck, holding her head in place as if to say don't go.
"Mhm~"
A small moan escaped Bell's nose—a sound she had never heard from herself before. That sound silenced the last remnants of her mind that were still trying to resist.
She surrendered.
Her tongue began to move more boldly, mirroring Naoki's movements, entangling with his in a wet dance she had never imagined. Their saliva mingled, and in the midst of that chaos, Bell felt something strange—she felt close to Naoki. More than just physically. It was as if something was flowing between them through the connection of their locked lips and tongues.
Unknown to the two of them, the door was slightly ajar.
Just a tiny crack, no wider than two fingers, but it was enough. Enough for the eye behind it to see everything happening inside.
The peeker was Konomi.
Initially, she had run as fast as she could away from the dojo.
However, after weighing her options in the corridor, Konomi decided to return. She thought there might have been some kind of misunderstanding or an accident she had misconstrued, so she intended to listen to their explanation.
That was why she came back.
With quiet steps, Konomi walked back to the changing room door. She had no intention of going in—no, she would never be brave enough for that. She just wanted to... see one more time.
Or perhaps she just couldn't resist the curiosity burning in her chest.
Unfortunately, the justifications she'd constructed in her head while outside were immediately dismantled by the sight before her.
No matter how Konomi looked at it, this was no misunderstanding.
From behind the crack in the door, Konomi could see their tongues.
Naoki's and Bell's were intertwined, moving together in a wet, slow rhythm. She never knew a human tongue could do something like that. She never imagined two people could be connected in such an... intimate way.
(So this is... what a kiss is?)
As an inexperienced girl, she was transfixed, watching how their tongues tangled slickly, accompanied by Bell's expression, which looked utterly intoxicated and submissive.
(Is a kiss really as good as shoujo manga makes it out to be?)
She had always thought it was just dramatization—an exaggerated way of storytelling.
But now, seeing Bell looking like someone floating on a cloud, Konomi began to think that maybe shoujo manga hadn't been exaggerating much at all.
Maybe a kiss really was like that.
Unconsciously, Konomi's index finger rose to her own lips.
Her plump lips—that was the only word to describe them. Pouty, naturally red, the kind that often made her classmates envious. Lips she had never thought of as anything special other than tools for speaking and eating.
For a moment, her imagination ran wild, picturing herself in Bell's position, held tightly and kissed passionately by that man.
Konomi imagined Naoki's tongue—the one she had seen tangled with Bell's just a second ago—now tangled with her own. She imagined her lips occupied by his; she imagined her hands on Naoki's shoulders; she imagined herself letting out the small sounds she had only ever heard in the manga she read in secret.
She wondered: would her facial expression look like Bell's?
The thought suddenly felt too real.
Konomi's face exploded into a brilliant scarlet. Not the red from before—the red of shame from seeing something forbidden.
She yanked her hand away from her lips as if she had just touched a burning coal.
(WHAT AM I IMAGINING?!)
Konomi thudded her head against the wall beside the door—not too hard, but enough to snap herself back to her senses.
The pain helped a little, distracting her mind from the wild fantasies that had just flashed through her head.
And behind that door, the small sounds—stifled moans, the wet sounds of lips meeting and parting—continued to slip through the narrow crack, filling Konomi's ears, filling her head, filling her imagination.
She couldn't leave.
She couldn't go in.
Konomi could only stand there, behind the door, with a flaming face, a racing heart, and lips that still felt a strange, lingering heat.
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