Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch3. Love Hotel (I)

The air in the park hung heavy as Hayao’s heart thumped wildly. The homeless men closed in, their leering grins and predatory stares fixed on Ai’s dazed, half-exposed figure. Nanako’s breath caught, her dark eyes wide with fear as the leader—a scruffy, hulking figure—cracked his knuckles and rasped, “Well, look what we got here.” 

Another sneered, “Share the wealth, kid, or we’ll take it ourselves.” His words met with coarse laughter from the group. Sweat beaded on Hayao’s brow. He could abandon Ai to save himself and Nanako, or risk it all. His fingers grazed the cracked stopwatch in his pocket—a strange, ticking relic—and he chose to fight for their escape.

“Back off,” Hayao warned, voice steady despite the adrenaline. The leader lunged, but Hayao pressed the stopwatch’s button. Time stuttered, and the man froze mid-step, his lustful glare suspended. The others hesitated, one muttering, 

“What the hell—?” before Hayao hit the button again, locking and releasing them in chaotic succession. The men stumbled, crashing into each other, their movements sluggish and confused. 

“Nanako, grab your stuff!” Hayao shouted, shoving her toward their scattered belongings. She snatched her jacket and Ai’s torn shirt while Hayao yanked Ai upright, her gray eyes unfocused, silver twintails swaying. 

“Move!” he snapped, draping his jacket over her shoulders. Nanako gripped Ai’s arm, and the trio sprinted through the park’s shadowed paths, the men’s furious shouts fading into the night.

They paused outside the park, Shibuya’s neon haze flooding the scene. The slender girl slumped against a bench, breathing shallowly, still reeling. Nanako tightened the jacket around her, hands shaking. 

“Are you okay?” she whispered, but the silver-haired girl only stared ahead, vacant. Hayao’s mind raced—Ai was too dazed to leave, too fragile to abandon. 

He crouched beside her, voice low and coaxing. “Hey, Ai… you liked being with Nanako, right? Before those creeps?” 

She blinked, murmuring, “Yeah…” in a distant tone. 

He pressed the stopwatch subtly, its power threading through his words. “Come with us, and you can have her again. You want that, don’t you?” Her eyes flickered, a faint nod following. 

“Yes…” she breathed. 

Nanako shot Hayao a glare, hissing, “What are you doing?” but he silenced her with a sharp look. 

“We’re not safe here. Move,” he ordered.

Through Shibuya’s crowded streets they went, the trio weaving past curious onlookers, stopping at a love hotel called "The Swallow," its pink neon bird flickering overhead. The lobby reeked of cheap perfume, dim and unwelcoming. Hayao slapped cash on the counter, voice clipped. 

“One night. No questions.” The clerk slid him a key without a word. In the elevator, silence pressed down—Ai leaned against the wall, jacket slipping, while Nanako stood rigid, arms crossed. The room was cramped, its faded wallpaper and mirrored ceiling reflecting their exhaustion. 

“Ai, sit,” Hayao said, gesturing to the bed. She sank onto it, twintails spilling across the pillow. 

Nanako hovered by the door, voice cutting. “What now, Hayao?” 

He met her gaze, firm. “We stay here.” His fingers rested on the stopwatch as Ai’s soft breaths mingled with Nanako’s tense silence. His fingers rested lightly on the stopwatch, that small, cracked device that seemed to hum with a strange, unspoken power. It sat in his hand like a talisman, a quiet threat that kept Nanako’s pulse racing.

Then, without warning, his lips parted, and the words fell like a stone into the silence. “Now we fuck more.”

Nanako’s breath caught, her chest tightening as the weight of his declaration sank in. The memory of the day’s earlier horrors—the park, the leering eyes of strangers, the violation—still clung to her like a second skin. Her voice emerged fragile, barely audible over the faint buzz of neon lights outside. “Hayao… we just… we just got through something traumatic. Can’t we… can’t we take a rest? Please… just a small one.”

But even as she pleaded, she saw the flicker of something primal in his gaze, a hunger that the chaos of the day had only sharpened. His fingers tightened around the stopwatch, and she knew her words were futile. Across the room, Ai shifted on the bed, her posture betraying her. Where Nanako’s body screamed reluctance, Ai’s spoke of eagerness—a subtle arch to her spine, a flush creeping up her pale cheeks, her lips parting as her gaze darted between Hayao and Nanako with a lustful intensity that made Nanako’s skin prickle.

Nanako swallowed hard, desperation clawing at her throat. “Can we at least… have a shower? Please?” Her voice was weak, a last grasp at control, at some semblance of normalcy.

Hayao’s lips curled into a grin, sharp and predatory, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “A shower? Sure, why not?” He paused, his gaze flicking between the two girls, and the grin widened, taking on an edge of menace. “But you two go together.”

Nanako’s heart sank, a cold dread pooling in her stomach. “Ai can go first,” she said quickly, her voice faltering as she tried to buy herself a moment’s reprieve. “I’ll wait.”

“No,” Hayao countered, his tone firm, brooking no argument. “Together. Both of you.” His words were a command, not a suggestion, and the air in the room seemed to thicken with their weight.

Ai rose from the bed, her movements languid, almost feline, as if the trauma of the day had been eclipsed by the promise of what lay ahead. She crossed the room to Nanako, her fingers brushing against Nanako’s arm in a touch that was both gentle and insistent. Nanako flinched, her body tensing, but Ai’s grip tightened just enough to pull her toward the bathroom, her gray eyes gleaming with a hunger that Nanako couldn’t escape.

The bathroom was a small, modern sanctuary, its minimalist design dominated by a large shower framed in sleek glass. A section of opaque frosting ran from waist to shoulder height, obscuring just enough to tease, to titillate, while leaving the rest tantalizingly visible. The air was soon heavy with steam, the faint scent of jasmine lingering from some forgotten air freshener. Hayao sat on the bed, his dark eyes fixed on the two girls.

Nanako hesitated, her fingers trembling as they fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. Each movement was slow, reluctant, as if she could delay the inevitable. Ai, by contrast, shed her clothes with an urgency that bordered on desperation—her torn shirt and skirt pooling on the tile floor, revealing the pale expanse of her skin. Her breasts rose and fell with each quickened breath, her nipples already peaked, her body a study in eager anticipation.

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