You had been the one to pull Megumi into the bathroom, to shove him into a stall, to press your lips against his—needy, desperate, hungry.

At first, he had scolded you, his voice low and taut with frustration, but even as he tried to resist, his resolve crumbled. His hands moved from his sides to cup your jaw, tilting your head just so.

Your tongues met, wet and warm, sliding against each other in an urgent rhythm. He leaned closer, eyes fluttering shut, the world narrowing to the taste of you, the heat between your bodies, the frantic beat of your hearts.

The stolen intimacy, however, was fragile. Reality snapped back like a whip: you were in public. In a public bathroom. A place where anyone could barge in at any moment and hear the ragged, uneven breaths filling the small stall. Could see two pairs of feet instead out one under the door.

With a shuddering groan, he pulled back, a string of saliva stretching between your lips before snapping.

His face burned, flushed with embarrassment and desire alike, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself.

“N-not here, you dumbass… anyone can walk in.”