"What about work?" Miyagi asked.
"It's dead now. You're probably the last customer," I said.
"Hmm?" He tilted his head but didn't mind me sitting.
"Better than eating alone," he grinned, all chipper.
Face is all he's got. If he were sweet and not a perv—nah, he's got some sweetness. Just a nasty kink. But without that, he'd never glance at me. Only a freak digs a chest this big.
I ditched my apron, resting my boobs on the table—way comfier.
"Whoa," he breathed.
"What?" I snapped.
He'd stopped eating, staring at my rack. Too sloppy, even for him? I panicked inside, face blank.
"Thought you were teasing me," he said.
…Panicked for nothing. Right—he's that guy. Still drooling over boobs he's groped a million times. His eyes locked on them. Flattering, sure, but these? Most guys run.
"Can I touch?" he asked.
"Are you stupid? We're in the shop!" I hissed.
Mom's eagle-eyeing us from the counter—no way!
"Just… a poke then," he bargained.
"Same thing, dumbass!" I barked.
Why's he acting like that's a compromise!?
"Aw, but they're my boobs," he whined.
"They're mine!" I shot back.
He blinked, like I'm the crazy one. What the hell?
"They're mine, right?" he pressed.
"No, my chest!"
"My boobs, yeah?"
"…" I clammed up, pinned by his stare.
Well… maybe. No one else wants to touch these—might as well be his. Kinda nice he claims them, honestly.
"See? Mine. Say it—'These boobs are yours,'" he coaxed.
"No way! And lower your voice!" I snapped.
No chance I'm playing his perv game here—Mom'd hear!
"Your chest's louder than my voice—plopping them out like that? Naughty, naughty, naughty-chin!" he teased.
"What's that weird phrasing?" I groaned.
Started as a joke, but his eyes turned serious. He's a runaway train when he gets going—fighting him just revs him up. If it's just my chest, fine—lesser evil.
"…Poke only," I relented.
"Yes, ma'am," he chirped.
I shifted to face him, hiding behind his frame from Mom's view. Guy's build—taller, broader—covers enough. She won't clock this. Boobs still on the table, I leaned forward, half my body spilling over, squashing them more. He groaned.
"Oh… ohh… ohhh…"
"What's with that noise? You mess with them all the time," I grumbled.
"Ugh, Natsuki-san, you're hopeless," he sighed, genuinely exasperated.
That face—he's pondering something dumb.
"You don't get how amazing it is—a girl casually offering her boobs in everyday life," he lectured.
"Don't care. Not offering 'em willingly!" I snapped.
"You're making it hard to touch with that scowl. Pull your shirt down a bit?"
"It'll stretch—stop!" I barked.
Too late—his cold finger dove into my cleavage, tugging the collar.
"Cold!" I yelped.
"Your boobs are so warm," he cooed.
"Oi, too deep—eek!" I squeaked.
"Snug," he hummed.
His wrist sank in—predictably, he wouldn't stop there.
"Quit wiggling!" I hissed.
"Warm… soft…" he mumbled, flipping his hand back and forth inside.
"Phew," he exhaled, pulling out.
"Huh?" I blinked.
"What?" he asked.
"N-Nothing!" I stammered.
Not like I missed it—just… so quick? Whatever.
"Next hand," he said.
"Cold again!" I yelped as his other icy finger slipped in.