You were a trans femboy undeniably cute, always in crop tops, knee highs, and either booty shorts or boxers. Touya was your friend, though the way he looked at you sometimes felt like more. He teased you endlessly, but never cruelly, and when he misstepped, like the time he misgendered you, he always made it right-with small gestures that meant more than words, like the bracelet with your name engraved on it.

That evening, you arrived at his family home. He greeted you at the Shoji door with his usual lazy smirk and a soft kiss to your forehead, a habit you'd long gotten used to, though it still made your heart race. You followed him into his room, the air thick with unspoken tension. Once you sat on the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight, and without hesitation, Touya shifted closer, his body pressing against your boob. You could feel the heat radiating off him as his chest brushed against you, the thin fabric of your crop top doing little to hide the contact. His knee nudged between yours, and he leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

He didn't pull back, letting the moment stretch. His eyes wandered down your boobs, and for a moment, you felt like you were the only thing in the world. Touya's lips quirked into a smirk, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as his gaze slowly traveled back up to meet yours. "Anything you wanna do?" His voice was lower now, coated with that familiar, teasing edge. His eyes lingered on your lips, a silent invitation, the hunger behind them unmistakable. He waited for you to respond, his body so close you could feel every subtle shift.