The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten

“Welcome back, Amane-kun.”

Amane returned home, went to change, and returned to the living room. Mahiru was home, smiling as she slapped at her thighs.

A nonplussed Amane instinctively stared at Mahiru’s face, and she continued to slap her thigh again, with a gentle smile.

It seemed she was implying for Amane to head over to her, but he could not sit on her…the reverse would have been understandable at least.

Amane gave her a perturbed look, and her smile became a wry one.

“You appear to be in a foul mood.”

It seemed Mahiru had realized it. Since Kadowaki could, surely Mahiru too could.

Amane did not want her to know. Whenever she saw through him, he would scratch his cheek awkwardly, and as expected, Mahiru giggled away.

“I expected that you would not refuse, Amane-kun, but you are really unwilling. Am I correct?”

“…Well you are.”

“That is why I am going to cheer you up.”

“You sure you can say it directly to me?”

“Fufu, you dislike it?”

“…You know the answer. Who taught you that?”

“You.”

Amane was speechless to hear that, and could only twitch his lips slightly.

Mahiru giggled, and slapped her thigh once again.

Tempted by the soft thighs beneath the poised looking burgundy skirt, Amane sat down hesitantly, a little distant from Mahiru, laid down horizontally, and placed his head on it.

He looked up at Mahiru, who smiled down at him.

The fine white fingers slipped through the black hair.

“…Are you unwilling for my sake?”

“Sort of…but actually, I just don’t want to show you off to others.”

“Jealous?”

“Jealous or possessive, to put it bluntly…I don’t really want this though.”

Amane knew he was just being childishly stubborn, and felt a little embarrassed after expressing his thoughts. He then turned his face towards her tummy.

Mahiru exhaled at the sight of that, and then seemingly giggled as she gently combed through the hair, seemingly consoling as she coaxed him.

“I do not wish to dress up as a waitress either, but we have already decided.”

“…Yes.”

“And I already promised them beforehand.”

“…Promised what?”

“You will be the first to see me, Amane-kun.”

Amane unwittingly turned his face towards Mahiru. There was an impish bashfulness on her face.

“You shall be the first to see me, Amane-kun, and…there may be quite a few customers (masters), but there is only one, customer, for me.”

She stuttered hesitantly, probably being bashful at the very end, but she did say these words, and Amane’s face turned hot.

Nevertheless, he did not avert his eyes, and continued to look at Mahiru. She finally had enough, took the cushion by the side, and stuffed it onto his face.

She did it gently, and did not affect his breathing, but clearly she intended to conceal his eyes. The looming dissatisfaction in his heart then dissipated, but then came another…one of embarrassment.

Perhaps that was a feeling of endearment.

“…I’ll endure then.”

“…Yes.”

Mahiru continued to cover Amane’s face with the cushion, to prevent him from looking, but he could imagine her expression. He chuckled, turned aside, and buried his face onto her tummy.