Several months later

August in Tokyo is blistering hot, but I’m too giddy to notice. It’s my first ever tanabata or star festival, and oh, it’s so much more than I allowed myself to hope for. At my insistence, Yuki has come dressed in a yukata that matches mine, and we’ve already written our love wishes and hung them together with the rest of the tanzaku. And now, I’m about to cross another high-priority item from my bucket list, with Yuki just three shots away from winning me a giant stuffed teddy bear.

The owner of the shooting stall hands Yuki a freshly loaded gun, and he glares at me as the crowd behind us cheers wildly.

Oops.

There’s still nothing more he hates than having people notice him, but unfortunately for Yuki, his perfect shooting score, combined with his gorgeous looks, makes it impossible for the people at the tanabata not to notice him.

Yuki takes aim.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

All the targets fall, and the crowd behind us breaks into thunderous applause.

“Congratulations,” the stall owner says cheerfully.

Yuki manages to crack a smile. “Thank you.” Then he dumps the giant teddy bear in my arms, and I nearly lose my balance. It’s a lot heavier than it looks.

“Happy now?” he snarls.

“Uh huh.” I think he’s scowling at me, too, but the toy’s extra-large frame prevents me from seeing him.

“Let me carry that.” Yuki’s tone is exasperated as he takes the bear off my hands.

“I can handle it---”

Yuki glares me into silence.

Or not.

He grabs my hand as we start walking, and his fingers tighten around mine when the other girls we pass by literally squeal and sigh as we walk past them.

It’s Yuki Himura! What a good boyfriend! He’s won that for her! He’s so sweet!

The last one has Yuki gripping my hand so tightly I wonder if I’ll end up with broken fingers. I know those girls mean well, but I wish I could tell them that Yuki being sweet is the last thing he wants to hear.

When we’re far enough from his adoring fans, I say in a small voice, “Sorry.”

He snorts.

“I really mean it.”

Yuki only gives me a look.

I grin. Okay, he got me. I’m not sorry at all. The truth is, I love it when he does things that only perfect bishounen in shoujo should be capable of doing. It just has my creative juices flowing so that I’m practically drowning with ideas.

And besides, it’s not really my fault, is it? He’s a god. Things like this will always happen, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

I tug at his hand, and when he looks down, I smile up at him. “Thank you.”

He flicks my forehead hard in response.

“Ow!” But even so, I can’t stop myself from grinning.

I am so loved.

“Stop that.”

My grin widens. “Stop what?”

“That.” Yuki pulls my Gudetama mask down to cover my face. “You’re scaring kids with the creepy grin on your face, senpai.”

I push my mask back up. “Am not!” I try to sound offended. “That’s such a rude---”

In front of us, a little girl bursts into tears, and she’s staring straight at me like she’s just seen a Kuchisake-Onna without her medical mask.

Yuki bursts into laughter when I hastily pull my mask back down.

“Not funny,” I grumble.

But bloody sadistic sod that he is, Yuki only pulls me close and kisses the top of my head, his good mood fully restored now that I know my I’m-in-love-with-Yuki grin is capable of scaring kids into tears.

“Would you like that, senpai?”

My eyes light up when I see Yuki pointing at a stall selling sodas in plastic bottles shaped like light bulbs. There’s a different shade for every flavor, and I’m even more excited when I see a little girl do something to the bottle that makes it light up like a disco ball.

“Do you?”

Gaaaaah.

I want to hold on to my grudge, but the bloody sod knows all my weaknesses. He knows I’m itching to get one for myself just so I can give it a try and possibly draw it for my manga.

Yuki smirks. “Last chance.”

Bloody, bloody hell.

The smirk should make me mad, but instead it just makes my toes curl hard. Smirks aren’t supposed to be that sexy, blast it. He then raises a brow, and double blast it, that is one sexy look, too.

I unhappily give up on holding on to my grudge. “Grape, please.”

Yuki ruffles my head. “Good girl.”

He turns away, and I know I’m not the only girl in the crowded street whose gaze is trailing after him. Yuki dressed in jeans is sexy, Yuki dressed in a suit is gorgeous, but Yuki in a yukata?

I touch the corner of my lips under my mask, just to make sure I haven’t unconsciously started drooling.

And you get the point, right?

My phone rings just as Yuki returns to my side. It’s the sheikh, and Yuki’s gaze narrows.

“Umm---”

“Loudspeaker, please.” Yuki’s tone is extremely polite.

I nervously take a sip of my grape soda.

This is not going to be good.

I answer the call. “Hello, sheikh.” I clear my throat. “We’re, umm, on loudspeaker.”

“Perfect,” the sheikh drawls. “It is actually Himura I would like to speak to.”

Yuki takes the phone from me, saying evenly, “Then you should’ve called me directly.”

“I could, but why would I?” The sheikh’s tone is silky. “This is much better since I get to hear the lovely voice of Katerina.”

“That’s Ms. Chariot to you.”

My fingers tighten around the light-bulb bottle. Maybe I’m being a little too optimistic…but I think they could get along, couldn’t they?

“Not if she had joined my stable,” the sheikh murmurs.

I choke on my soda. “Sheikh!”

“An ageing stud would never do it for her,” Yuki retorts.

I give up drinking.“Yuki!”

“I don’t know about that,” the sheikh says lazily. “Young bloods tend to be too volatile and end up hurting their mares---”

Aghast at the direction the conversation has taken, I blurt out, “Enough horsing around!”

There’s a small pause, and then both men burst into laughter.

I turn red. “What I mean is, quit it!” Bloody hell, their horsey humor is terribly contagious.

And so they do, but only because the two men seem horribly satisfied at having succeeded in embarrassing me. Maybe it’s not that unrealistic to think they’d get along, after all.

When the call ends, Yuki says, “You should block his number.”

I sputter in laughter. “You know I can’t do that. And besides---” I squeeze his hand as we start walking again. “The sheikh already has someone else.”

One dark brow lifts at my words. “And you are certain of this?”

“I think he’s going to end up with Kyria,” I confide in a low voice.

Yuki is incredulous. “The girl his family adopted?”

“The correct term is legal ward,” I say with a frown.

He shakes his head. “What is it with you and pseudo-incest? I remember you saying almost the exact same thing when you first saw Vassi Grachyov with Seri Devereux.”

I say smugly. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” Yuki gives me a disgruntled look, and I know I’ve made my point. “I just really have a feeling about those two.”

“I wish him luck then,” Yuki murmurs. “I’d rather he be a lolicon with another girl---”

“Stop calling him that!” I’m torn between laughing and getting mad. “It’s not funny!”

“And so is all this talk about another man,” Yuki dismisses with a shrug, but the way his eyes are gleaming makes me suspicious. I just know he has something up his sleeve.

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

He gives me the most dazzlingly innocent smile. “Just thinking about your bucket list,” he murmurs, “and what I can do to help you with it.”

“Ha!”

But when ten minutes pass, and nothing still happens, I’m torn between guilt and disappointment. We walk past several more eye-catchingly colorful paper-mâché decorations of the festival, something I would usually take dozens of photos of, but I don’t notice them at all this time.

Maybe he was telling the truth?

Then doesn’t that mean I owe him an apology?

Yuki leads us to a path away from the crowds, and I clear my throat. “Sorry---”

He stops to sit down on an empty bench and tugs me to him.

I tumble onto his lap with a gasp, and when I twist around to look at him, I see Yuki pulling his own mask down.

“Turn around, senpai.” He takes hold of my waist and arranges me on his lap so my back is against his chest, and I’m facing the crowd. “Now, look up.”

Fireworks.

But then I feel Yuki’s hands moving between our bodies, lifting the back of my yukata---

“Y-Yuki---”

And then I feel the head of his cock nudging at my entrance, and just like that I’m wet and aroused and absolutely terrified we’ll get caught.

“Oh my God, Yuki!” I try to get up, and I actually manage a few inches but when he pulls me back down, I realize it’s deliberate.

My eyes squeeze shut as he impales me with his cock.

Oh. My. God.

And he whispers into my ear, “You wanted us to watch the fireworks together, didn’t you, senpai?”

Aaaaaaah.

“Not. Like. This!” But the last word comes out a gasp, with Yuki having started to move, and his thrusts are absolutely…amazing. They come into me hard and deep, fast and strong---

“Do you like riding me, senpai?”

“N-not funny.” But I can’t stop my lips from twitching.

“What did I say about lying to me, senpai?” He bites my ear, and I whimper.

“I think you need to be punished,” he murmurs, and I whimper again.

“Yeeeees---I mean, no.”

And then I feel it.

His hands tightening around my waist as he starts to lift me off his cock.

A moan of protest escapes me as I feel him start to withdraw, and his movement stills.

“It’s your punishment, senpai.”

I let out another whimper, my body writhing in agony at his words.

“I’ll only start moving again…”

His head dips, and my entire body shudders as I feel the slide of his tongue against the side of my neck.

Oh God.

“If you make me feel like I’m the only stud you want to ride.”

“Yuki!” I half-wail, half-moan his name out. We’re in a tanabata, for heaven’s sake, and granted everyone’s preoccupied with the fireworks, but still. “You can’t be serious,” I plead.

But Yuki only smiles.

And then I feel more of his cock slipping out of me.

Oh God, no.

It leaves me feel painfully empty, and before I know it, I’m doing what he wants---

“N-n-neigh.” I try to make it sound as convincing as possible even as my face burns in mortification. “Neigh, neigh, neigh!”

Yuki’s powerful body rocks behind me, and I realize he’s silently laughing.

“S-senpai.” And now, his voice is shaking, too. “All I was hoping for was a nice little moan---”

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

This is what I get for falling for a god whose special talent is making me lose face.

I try to scramble away, but of course, this god of mine doesn’t let me.

“Don’t go, senpai,” he whispers.

Blast him. Blast him. Blast him.

He knows I can’t go when he uses that voice of his.

“It’s my turn.” His arms tighten around me. “Let me show you how studs fuck.”

And so he does.