Episode 27: We’re Girlfriends Now.

Just the two of us in the discipline room.
Today again, Hiyori leaned back against the long desk in front of me and shook a bag with obvious pleasure.

“Look at this. New sweets — I picked them up at the convenience store. Six kinds, a whole fruit assortment.”

The colourful individual wrappers rustled and clinked.

“…Did you come here today just to show me some sweets?”
“Of course not. …Want to lick them together?”

Hiyori tore open a small wrapper with a crisp rip.
Out rolled a translucent red candy. Strawberry, probably.

“Here, say aah.”
“…Mm.”

The memory of yesterday’s suffocating sweet pressure came back to me.
I gave in, opening my mouth as told.
A hard little sphere rolled onto my tongue.
…A sweet-tart fragrance.

“Well, I suppose… it might be good.”
“Right? Then me too—”

Hiyori’s face came close.

“…Mm, chu.”
“Wha—?!”

Our lips met, and Hiyori’s tongue slid, slick and unhurried, into my mouth.

“Mm — hh—! Hiyo, ri—?!”
“Mm… I said lick them together, didn’t I.”
“Are you out of your mind?! This is—”

At a distance close enough for her long lashes to brush mine, Hiyori laughed in her throat.

“Just open your mouth and hold still. …We established yesterday that I can’t be satisfied unless we do this kind of thing, didn’t we.”
“—”

Hiyori’s tongue caught my retreating one with easy skill.
And between them, began to roll the candy, the two of us holding it back and forth together.
The click of teeth against teeth. The sensation of the hard sweet grinding against soft inner flesh.

The cloying artificial strawberry flavour melted together with the heat of Hiyori’s saliva.
With every twist of our tongues the candy moved back and forth, pressing sweetly into the soft places inside my mouth.

“Mm — chu, ph, slick—”

Even the timing of swallowing felt like something dictated entirely by Hiyori.
A long kiss in which I did nothing but lick sweets together with her, locked in place by the invisible chain called Girlfriend.

After what felt like an eternity, when the candy finally dissolved completely, I was slumped face-down on the long desk, breathing hard from my shoulders.
A silver thread hung from the corner of my mouth, indecent and loose.

“Haah, haah — enough already—”
“Good girl. Working so hard at licking — you were so cute, Maya.”

Hiyori smiled her melting, sweet smile and gathered the silver thread at the corner of my mouth with her fingertip.

“…The strawberry was quite sweet, wasn’t it.”

Hiyori reached for the bag on the table.

“Right, next. …Lemon.”
“Wh…?”
“There are still five kinds left. …Come on, Maya. Say aah.”

Held out before me: a yellow jewel.
The inside of my mouth was waterlogged with sweet saliva, the root of my tongue already numb enough to feel like it might tear—
Tuesday after school had barely begun.

◇◆◇◆◇

And the next day, and the day after that.

“…I don’t get this part.”
“Oh, um… that’s the present perfect, so…”

The quiet discipline room after the committee meeting.
We sat side by side at the long desk, reference books spread open in front of us with every appearance of diligence.
Hiyori had her ash-grey hair clipped up carelessly in a claw clip, and was wearing her decorative glasses — no prescription, purely aesthetic — with an air of studied concentration.

She wanted me to help her study, she’d said.

The warmth of Hiyori’s upper arm grazing mine at unguarded moments.
The defenceless white of her throat visible at the edge of my vision.
And that wasn’t all — under the desk, Hiyori’s leg was wound ostentatiously around my thigh, slowly transferring heat through my tights.

(—)

This is unbearable.
Every piece of information entering my field of vision, every sensation crawling across my skin, kept triggering flashbacks to that breathless sweet smell.
I was trying desperately to keep my eyes on the page, but the sound of kissing and the taste of candy were looping in my head, refusing to leave.

“…Hey.”

Suddenly, sweet musk bloomed at my ear.
Hiyori leaned in and peered at my face from right beside me.
The strength went out of my fingers, and with a dry sound my mechanical pencil rolled off the notebook onto the desk.

“…………”

Hiyori watched the pencil roll to a stop, then turned her languid eyes behind her decorative glasses toward me.

“…What are you thinking about?”
“Oh, s-sorry… my hand just slipped…”

I made my excuse and reached out to pick it up.
But Hiyori’s fingers were faster, closing tight around my wrist.

—mm, *mgh—?!*

Again.

A hot tongue thrust in without warning, plundering the inside of my mouth without mercy.
Pushed back against the chair, nowhere to go.
I could push her away.
My hands were free.

And yet I only pressed my fists against my own chest and closed my eyes, letting it happen.

It’s because of that video.
That’s why I’m being made to play at Yuri Girlfriends against my will.
Once Hiyori is satisfied…

Repeating that to myself, the same as yesterday, as desperately as I could — I sank under the sweet poison of Hiyori that was dissolving my brain.

◇◆◇◆◇

The sweet captivity didn’t end with the after-school enclosed room.

Last month, when we were just Friends, it was never like this.
The moment Girlfriend became the title, Hiyori had come off the rails as though every limiter had blown at once.

“Mm, slick — chu, ph—”

Not just rough.
Not just greedy.
A kiss so deep, so sweet, so thoroughly dissolving — it made me lose myself into thinking I was something precious, something she couldn’t bear to let go of.

Pulled behind a corridor pillar, she invaded even the ten minutes of break time.
In every small gap, Hiyori stopped letting me go.

“…Mm, phew. Ahh, fully charged—”

Hiyori narrowed her eyes happily and nuzzled her cheek against my throat.

“Oh, we should go — come on.”
“Y-yes, we should, Hiyori — if we don’t get back—”
“But Maya’s just too cute. I was holding back the whole lesson, desperate to touch her. …Mm, chu. See you next break~”

Out in the corridor, the ordinary laughter of students heading to their next class filled the air.
A place where anyone might see us at any moment.
Not even that razor-edged anxiety seemed to register with her, and her fingers found the hem of my uniform and tugged.

Between second and third period. A toilet cubicle.
Pressed against the cold door.

Lunch break. The back of the library stacks.
The smell of old paper mingling with sweet musk.

After school cleaning time. A landing on the staircase.
Holding our breath together, waiting for someone’s footsteps to fade.

Every time she spotted me, Hiyori dragged me into some sweet blind spot.
And dropped a deep, long kiss on me, like a greeting.
Deliberately tracing with her finger the red bruises hidden under my blouse.

And then, inevitably, in the after-school discipline room too.

“Sorry to keep you.”
“…I wasn’t waiting.”
“Liar. You were definitely waiting.”

Hiyori’s long fingers lifted my chin, and just like that, as a matter of course, my field of vision was closed off.