The air in Keita's apartment felt thick, charged with unspoken tensions and the lingering scent of Mika's perfume. It was a familiar scent now, one that brought relief and torment in equal measure to Keita. He stood in his meticulously organized drawing room, surrounded by half-finished sketches, unable to focus. His hands, usually steady and precise, trembled slightly as he held a pencil, the eraser end pressing into the pad of paper.
"Mika," he heard the word escape his lips before thinking, a plea caught in a nervous cough. He looked up to see her standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the hallway light, more breathtaking than ever despite the turmoil radiating from her.
Her eyes scanned the room, landing on him, then flickering towards his desk. A predatory glint sparked within them. "Keita," she said softly, the sound like silk sliding over steel. "You're still here."
"Of course," he replied automatically, his voice tight. "I... I was just working."
Mika stepped further into the room, closing the distance between them. She didn't walk; she moved with a confidence that was almost feline, her high heels clicking softly on the polished floor. She stopped directly in front of him, tilting her head slightly as she examined his face. "Working on what?"
He instinctively glanced down at his desk, then back at her. "Just... some ideas." He tried to sound casual, but the words stuck in his throat.
Mika's smile was slow, deliberate. It didn't reach her eyes, which were dark pools reflecting his own nervousness. "Ideas? What kind of ideas, Keita?"
She leaned forward, her lips inches from his ear. Her breath smelled faintly of strawberries. "Maybe... artistic ones?" Her tongue licked delicately at her lower lip, a sensual gesture that sent a jolt through him. "Or maybe... dangerous ones?"
Keita swallowed hard. He knew she knew. He could feel it in the air crackling between them.
Before he could respond, another presence entered the room. Reina stood there, her expression cool and controlled, though her eyes held a possessive warning. She wore silk pajamas that hugged her curves perfectly, emphasizing the dangerous allure she wielded.
"Good evening, Keita," Reina said smoothly, her gaze sweeping over Mika with undisguised animosity. "Mika. What a surprise."
Mika straightened up slightly, meeting Reina's stare head-on. The air crackled visibly now. "Reina. I wanted to talk to Keita alone."
"Can't we all use the living room?" Reina countered, stepping closer to Keita, placing a possessive hand on his arm. Her touch sent another shiver through him. "It seems Keita's schedule is filling up."
"Remove your hand," Mika commanded, her voice dangerously low.
Reina laughed softly, a musical sound devoid of mirth. "Or what? Mika, don't you think you're crossing a line?"
Keita felt trapped. He looked from one beautiful, dangerous woman to the other. Mika's raw intensity, Reina's controlled venom – both pulled at him with equal force.
"I need to talk to him," Mika insisted, ignoring Reina's hand entirely now.
"Fine," Reina sighed dramatically, releasing Keita's arm as if suddenly losing interest, though Keita knew better. "But keep it short. Dinner is waiting."
She turned and walked towards the kitchen area without looking back, her hips swaying with unnerving confidence.
Mika waited until the door clicked shut behind Reina before turning back to Keita. The moment was hers. She walked towards him, dropping her heels with a soft clack-clack that echoed in the tense silence.
"You wanted to talk," Keita stammered.
Mika stopped before him, looking up into his eyes. For a long moment, nothing was said. Then, the dam broke.
"I love you," Mika confessed, her voice trembling but fierce. "I don't know how it started or why, but I do. It's crazy, it's messed up, but I love you. More than I've loved anyone. And I hate you for not seeing it." She reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "I hate you for falling for her."
Keita stared at her, stunned into silence. The raw emotion in her voice, the vulnerability exposed – it was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.
Mika pulled her hand away quickly. "Don't pretend to understand. You're just as trapped as I am."
Suddenly, Keita couldn't stand it anymore. He backed away slightly, needing space, but more than that, needing to react to her confession, to his own confusing feelings that threatened to consume him.
"What about you?" he asked hoarsely, turning the tables. "What about what you feel? Does it... feel like that too?"
Mika's eyes widened slightly at his question. Surprise flickered across her face before being replaced by a deeper intensity.
Before she could answer, Keita's gaze fell upon the desk again. His hands flew instinctively towards the paper and pencil. He didn't consciously decide; it just happened. His pencil tip hovered over the page for a fraction of a second before drawing.
Click.
A sharp sound echoed in the room. It wasn't pen on paper; it was something else entirely.
Mika gasped as a figure began to emerge from the sketch pad.
SCENE START
The figure stood between them, solid and real. It was a twisted silhouette, elongated limbs reaching out like grasping fingers, eyes mere dark holes set too close together beneath a distorted nose that resembled a broken pencil. It pulsed faintly with shadowy energy.
"It's... real?" Mika whispered, taking a hesitant step back.
Keita watched, mesmerized and horrified, as the figure seemed to writhe slightly before reforming itself into a different shape – a stylized heart composed entirely of tangled lines and sharp angles that throbbed with crimson light.
The heart floated towards Mika, pausing just before her face. It hovered there for a moment before shattering into a thousand tiny, razor-sharp shards that rained down silently around her waist.
Mika cried out as the shards began to embed themselves beneath her skin, sending sharp pains through her flesh. She staggered back, clutching her stomach where the sharpest pieces had sunk in.
"No!" Keita shouted, lunging forward to grab Mika's arm as she stumbled towards the desk again.
He turned to face the newly formed entity this time. It seemed to recoil from his touch, letting out a sound like tearing silk before melting back into ethereal lines on the page.
But just as quickly as it appeared, it reformed – this time into Reina's face, but distorted and grotesque, features stretched and exaggerated, mouth open in a silent scream made horrifyingly real.
The image lunged at Keita.
He stumbled backward, tripping over a chair. Pain shot through his knee as he landed hard on the floorboards. The distorted Reina figure seemed momentarily distracted by his fall before slithering back onto the paper.
"Mika..." Keita managed to gasp out as Mika began crawling towards the desk, ignoring the sharp pains in her side as she reached out a trembling hand.
She picked up the pencil again. This time, when she drew, the lines flowed faster than thought.
A mannequin appeared first – slender, graceful, limbs held in an unnatural pose designed for maximum visual appeal. It then rapidly morphed into anatomical drawings so detailed they seemed alive: a heart beating against the paper with a faint thumping sound; muscles straining under imagined exertion; neurons firing sparks across nerve pathways.
The sheer realism, the life forced into inanimate lines by his mere will (or perhaps something else entirely), was both a wonder and a nightmare.
Mika turned the anatomical drawings into something more suggestive – studies of torsos in impossible positions, highlighting smooth skin and subtle curves with an intensity that felt invasive yet fascinating.
Then came the climax – or perhaps just another stage – of Keita's rapidly deteriorating reality.
Mika looked at him over her shoulder as she drew furiously now. "Take off your clothes," she demanded breathily.
He hesitated for only a second before complying numbly, pulling off his shirt and unzipping his trousers. The need overriding his fear was confusing and potent.
As he stood there naked except for his boxers, Mika continued drawing. A scene unfolded on the paper: two figures embracing passionately amidst swirling ink and torn lines – one figure clearly herself, the other shape-shifting between Toru and Keita himself.
The drawing pulsed with heat, radiating an almost palpable desire. Keita felt his cock harden despite himself as he watched Mika's hand move across the paper, bringing the figures closer together.
Mika looked up from her drawing at Keita's stiffening arousal. Her expression shifted from intense focus to something unreadable – possessive?
She stood up slowly from her kneeling position by the desk. Her eyes locked onto his cock tenting the front of his boxers.
"I want you," she whispered, walking towards him again, completely ignoring the tormenting Reina figure winking mischievously on her pad.
She pushed his boxers down roughly around his hips, freeing his hard-on. Her fingers closed around his cock immediately.
Keita gasped at the firm grip.
"Did you see that?" she murmured against his lips as she began stroking him without preamble. "Did you see me drawing?"
She kissed him deeply while hand-jacking him with practiced skill. Her tongue explored his mouth relentlessly as her hand pumped him faster and faster.
"Mika," he groaned into her mouth.
She didn't slow down. Her other hand slid down his stomach, cupping his balls through his remaining underwear.
The contrast between her intense focus on him and the seemingly chaotic life-force pulsing through her drawings was dizzying.
The distorted Reina figure on the desk seemed to shimmer with reflected ecstasy from their intimacy.
Mika pulled back slightly from the kiss, her gaze locked on his face. "Tell me," she breathed hotly. "Tell me what you feel."
He looked into her eyes – so filled with need and confusion and something darker he couldn't name – and lost himself in them. "I don't know," he confessed raggedly. "I just know I need you."
His words spurred her on further. Her pace increased dramatically on his cock. Her fingers tightened.
"I want you inside me," she whispered hoarsely.
He nodded mutely, pushing his hands against her hips as she leaned him against the desk edge for better leverage.
Her boxers were off just as quickly as his had been. Her wet heat glistened for him before she positioned herself over him.
The moment her entrance closed around him was explosive – not painful exactly, but an incredible stretch of warmth and tightness that stole his breath away.
"Like this?" she gasped as she began moving rhythmically on him.
"Yes," he managed to choke out, his hands digging into her hips as she rode him hard and fast.
Her movements were wild now, hips pistoning against him with abandon. Her breasts bounced freely beneath her silk pajama top (or what remained of it), one hand reaching down to squeeze her own clit through the fabric as she came down on him repeatedly.
"Fuck... Mika," he panted, thrusting up desperately whenever she paused her relentless pace.
Her climax hit hard and fast, accompanied by a guttural scream that echoed off the walls of his apartment. She clutched his shoulders, riding out her intense orgasm while still moving atop him.
He felt his own release imminent. Holding back was impossible now. His climax detonated within her depths like a thunderclap – powerful spasms that shook him to his core.
They collapsed together on the floor amidst scattered sketches and paper debris – some normal-looking notes, others horrifyingly anatomical studies given impossible life.
The NTR manga of their lives continued to unfold with terrifying speed and devastating intensity.