Haruto's lips moved tenderly over Ayaka's skin, kissing every scar, every burn, every wound as if each one were a mark of her strength rather than her pain.
His touch was deliberate, his actions filled with a quiet reverence that made Ayaka's heartache most beautiful.
"Haruto…" she murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of impatience and longing.
"Why are you just kissing it? Don't you want more?"
Her body was burning under his touch, every nerve alight with a heat she had never felt before.
She wanted more—needed more—but Haruto seemed content to take his time, his lips and hands exploring her body with a patience that both frustrated and thrilled her.
Haruto paused, lifting his head to meet her gaze with a smirk. "Me? Or is it you who wants more?" he teased, his voice low and playful.
Ayaka's cheeks flushed a deep red, and she quickly looked away. "I-it's not like that!" she stammered, her voice rising in embarrassment.