"Uwaaaahhhh~!!"
Hana's wail echoed like a tragic anime heroine whose beloved mochi had been stolen by a seagull. She flung herself into my chest, clutching me like I was her last line of defense against the cruel, cruel world.
I held her tight, patting her back like a caring boyfriend—or perhaps a very smug perpetrator pretending to be innocent.
"There, there," I cooed, resting my chin on her sandy, sea-sprayed hair. "The bad, bad hand is gone now."
"You ARE the bad hand!!" she screamed into my chest, her voice muffled by my pecs. "BOTH cheeks, Ito! BOTH!! You left a whole signature! What kind of perv signs his work?!"
She sniffled and sobbed like she'd just been disqualified from a swimsuit contest for excessive hotness. Her little hands clenched my back while her curvy, soft body trembled against mine.
I, of course, was enjoying the full contact. She was in nothing but her tiny pink bikini, barely hiding anything, and I wasn't shy. My eyes had full VIP access. And right now? That sweet, red double handprint on her butt was art gallery level.
"Oh no, how terrible," I said with a dramatic fake gasp. "Someone left a perfectly shaped pair of handprints on this adorable butt—who could've done such a thing?"
She growled and bonked her forehead into my chest.
"You!" she cried, eyes overflowing again. "I can't go back out there like this! Mei-chan will think I'm into freaky stuff!"
"Well… aren't you?"
She froze. For exactly 1.4 seconds.
"Maybe but... SHUT UP!!!"
With a violent flail, she shoved herself up—still on her knees, still straddling my lap behind the big beach rock—but now staring me down with watery, furious eyes and puffed cheeks.
"You spanked me so hard I can't sit down without remembering it!!" she wailed. "And what's worse—w-worse than that! I—I liked it!! I LIKED IT, OKAY?!"
Thunder cracked in the distance. Somewhere, a random crab dramatically fainted.
"Oh nooo~! I'm corrupted!!" she cried, clutching her head like a shoujo manga heroine. "I'm tainted!! I'm not pure anymore!! I'm a butt-slapped beach bunny!!"
I blinked. "…You're kinda hot when you go insane."
She screeched and tackled me into the sand, burying her face back into my chest, sobbing uncontrollably as I cradled her like a girl who just lost her ice cream.
Her thighs were trembling, her chest rising and falling against mine in rhythm with her sniffles, and I couldn't help but rub gentle circles on her back.
"There, there," I whispered with a smirk. "Think of it this way—those handprints are like… beach badges. You earned them."
"I'm not a Pokémon!!" she yelled, looking up with tear-streaked cheeks and watery eyes. "Why does it have to be visible?! Why is my ass glowing like a traffic sign?!"
"Well, to be fair," I said, tilting my head, "your bikini bottom is like... basically a shoelace."
She gasped. "Don't insult the sacred string!! It was expensive!"
"And now it's showing the world how good my form is."
She gave another dramatic sob and flopped onto her side, curling up in the fetal position like a defeated anime character after a filler beach episode gone wrong.
"Ughhh I hate this! My boobs have a mark too! Look!!"
She sat up, yanked the bikini strap down just a bit, and bam—there it was. The faint red imprint across the upper curve of her breast. Barely hidden under the fabric, but unmistakably there.
"You monster…" she whispered, eyes trembling. "Do you even know how embarrassing it is to have battle scars in your cleavage?!"
I grinned. "That just means your boobs are winning."
"You're not taking this seriously at all!!"
"Your boobs are!"
She smacked my arm.
"Ito, we have to hide here until nightfall," she declared, crossing her arms under her chest and accidentally lifting them even higher. "If I show up looking like this, people will think I lost a fight to a palm tree."
"Well, technically, it was a palm—my palm."
"NOT FUNNY!!"
She launched herself at me again, half crying, half laughing, punching my chest with tiny ineffective fists.
"I'm going to get revenge! I'm going to bite your neck or something weird and leave marks you can't show off!"
"Plot twist: I'd love that."
She shrieked again and shoved her face back into my chest, hugging me tightly. "I hate you! I hate how good that felt! I hate how red my butt is!! I hate that I can't hate you enough!!"
"I accept all those feelings," I said, patting her head proudly. "You're a certified beach cutie now."
"Do certified beach cuties cry while hugging their pervert boyfriends behind a rock like anime failures?!"
"Only the best ones."
She sniffled one more time, then sighed.
The red marks stood out against her smooth, pale skin like a love letter written in bold. The bikini bottom did nothing to cover it—heck, the fabric almost seemed afraid to even try.
She noticed me looking. "STOP STARING!"
I shrugged innocently. "I'm just appreciating my art."
She growled and turned around to hide her butt, but in the process, her chest swayed wildly, jiggling with glorious anime physics that broke all laws of nature and gravity. I swear the sun caught a shine off her cleavage like a lens flare in a magical girl transformation.
Then she spun back to face me and clutched her bikini top protectively. "My boobs hurt too, you jerk! You left marks there too! I'm not showing those! Ever!"
I raised an eyebrow. "You say that, but your bikini's doing a terrible job hiding them. I can practically read my name between the lines."
She gasped and threw a hand over her chest. "W-WHAT KIND OF DELUSION IS THAT?!"
"Very high-definition delusion," I replied with a grin. "And don't worry. I'll give your butt and boobs a gentle massage later."
"You will not!"
"Oh, I will."
Her body twitched. She puffed out her cheeks in a full pout, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose as her bottom lip trembled. "You're a menace, Ito…"
"But you love me."
She huffed and looked away, her arms still clinging tightly around my waist. Her hips shifted as she leaned in again, chest squishing. Her legs tangled slightly with mine, and her hair clung to her neck as the ocean breeze made her shiver.
"…I think I won't be able to sit properly for a week," she muttered. "All thanks to you."
I wrapped both arms around her, holding her tighter, gently stroking her back. "Then I'll carry you."
She blinked. "Wh-What?"
"I'll carry you everywhere if I have to. Just say the word."
Her pout faltered. "You're being… weirdly nice now."
"I'm serious."
She looked up, confused, eyes glistening behind her glasses. "…Are you okay? You're not usually this intense."
I paused. Then, quietly, I asked, "If I kiss you every time I make you mad… will you forgive me?"
Her eyes widened. She didn't say anything, so I went on:
"If I kiss you now… will you kiss me back?"
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her chest rose and fell against me, her hips swaying slightly with the motion as she fidgeted. Her thighs pressed together as if she didn't know whether to run away or melt in place.
"I want to marry you."
Her entire body stiffened.
"But not just you."
Her expression twisted like I'd dropped a cake on her birthday.
"I have five girlfriends now, right?" I continued, eyes serious but soft. "I care about each of you. Deeply."
Her eye twitched. "You're gonna die before this beach trip ends."
"I want to marry all of you."
"EXCUSE ME?!"
"I'm gonna build a family so big, the wedding will take a whole season arc. And you? You'll be one of the queens of it."
She sputtered. "You think you can just—! Just! Just say stuff like that and get away with it?!"
"No one knows yet though," I winked.
She just stared at me—mouth open, brain lagging, glasses slipping a little on her nose.
"…You're actually insane."
"Insanely in love."
"…I hate how that made me blush."
"And ou're saying all this after spanking me in public?!"
"Yes. Because spanking is love. And I love you."
Her face was red. Steam was practically coming out of her ears. Her legs were wobbly. Her chest heaved. And her bottom lip was trembling.
"Y-You're not allowed to say stuff like that with such a straight face," she mumbled. "You're supposed to be the pervert…"
"I'm a romantic pervert."
She stared at me like I had slapped her brain. Then, with one last pout and a very defeated sigh, she leaned forward and let her lips brush mine.
And for a moment… the whole world went quiet.
Just her. Just me. Just the scent of sea breeze and sunscreen and the heat of her soft lips pressed to mine.
When we broke apart, she was teary-eyed and still red, but her voice was steady.
"…Don't say you'll marry me if you're not serious."
"I am."
"…Then carry me."
I swept her up bridal-style instantly.
She squeaked. "I-I was joking!"
"I wasn't."
She buried her face in my neck, muttering, "Idiot pervert romantic weirdo… I hate you so much…"
And yet… she never asked me to put her down.
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END OF CHAPTER : 46 : BEACH! : PART : 8 : BRIDAL STYLE!
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A/N: If any of you don't comment, how will I know I should continue this series?
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