Truth or dare (round 2)

Brief straightened up, puffing out his chest with what little courage he could scrape together. “Dare,” he declared, trying not to sound like his voice was cracking.

Stocking blinked at him with mild surprise, sucking on her thumb for a second longer before popping it free with a faint schlurp. “Dare, huh? Trying to act tough now?” she muttered, idly twirling her hair. “Hmm... I dunno what to make you do. Got any pervy fantasies I can exploit?”

Brief turned red and shook his head frantically.

“Hmph. Figures,” she said, glancing down at the plush nestled between her legs on the bed. “Kuromi, any bright ideas?”

She brought the plush to her ear, listening like she was hearing secret gossip. Her eyes narrowed slightly as Kuromi’s muffled voice whispered something only she could hear. Then widened. Then sparkled.

“…Really?” Stocking asked aloud, raising one eyebrow. Another whisper. “You think he’ll actually go through with that?”

Brief fidgeted, clearly anxious. “What is it? What did she say?”

Stocking’s lips curled into a grin as she gently placed Kuromi back onto the bed with a ceremonious pat. “Alright then, since you’re so brave, your dare is…”

She leaned forward, planting a hand on his chest and gently pushing him back until he was seated. Her hair swayed dramatically as she turned away, her long shirt slipping off one shoulder. “You’re going to give me a full back massage. No slacking. No excuses. You’re gonna make me melt.”

Brief blinked, his mouth dry. “A massage…?”

“You heard me.” She gave a fake yawn and stretched her arms high, causing the hem of her oversized shirt to rise dangerously. “A real one. Work those fingers. I’ve had a long day of being hot and tormenting a pervert—I deserve some pampering.”

Brief swallowed. “O-okay…”

And just like that, a simple dare became something far more intense—and intimate. His fingers hovered uncertainly over her shoulders, his breath catching as he realized just how close they now were. The moment had barely begun… and his pulse was already racing.

Stocking crawled to the center of the bed, tossing aside a few plushies and fluffing the pillow mound into something vaguely supportive. “You better not mess this up, pervert,” she muttered over her shoulder, grabbing the hem of her oversized shirt.

Brief turned his head instinctively. “W-Wait, are you—?!”

“Relax,” she cut in, voice dry. “I’m not flashing you. You’d pass out.” With that, she pulled the shirt over her head in one swift motion, revealing the long stretch of her pale back and shoulder blades, toned and soft, trailing into the waistband of dark panties.

Brief made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and turned his head to the side again.

“You can look, dumbass. Just the back. It’s not a strip show.” Stocking laid flat on her stomach, folding her arms under her head. “Just don’t drool or something. God.”

He hesitated by the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the blanket, but his gaze kept flicking up to the curve of her sides… where he could just barely see the heavy press of her breasts spilling out to each side, flattened by the bed and exaggerated by her posture.

She’s not even trying to hide them, Brief screamed internally.

With trembling hands, he knelt beside her and reached out like a novice magician about to perform his first trick. He started at the shoulder blades—safe, neutral, bony terrain. His fingers barely applied pressure, brushing over her skin like he was afraid she’d combust.

“…That’s it?” Stocking asked flatly after a moment.

“I-I’m just warming up,” he stammered, kneading gently at her upper back.

“You’re petting me like I’m a dying hamster,” she muttered, clearly unimpressed. “Come on, pervert, put some oomph into it. If I can’t tell whether you’re touching me or not, what’s the point?”

“I’m trying!” he whispered back, panicked. The sight of her body sprawled out before him was already more than enough stimulation—he could feel sweat forming at his temples. Every movement shifted her just slightly, and every shift meant more skin, more motion, more curves softly jiggling with the rhythm of his clumsy hands.

He ventured lower, just a little. Still upper back, still safe—until she let out a very exaggerated sigh.

“Ugh. This is pathetic. I’ve had ghosts give better rubdowns than this.”

He froze. “Sorry…”

“Mm, nah,” she hummed. “It’s kinda cute watching you flail around like a virgin at prom. Which you are, sooo…”

His hands twitched.

Stocking smirked without lifting her head. “You hear that, Brief? Maybe if you try harder, I’ll actually feel something. Maybe even compliment you. Imagine that.”

He swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to continue—his fingers trembling as they hovered just above the softest, most dangerous no-man’s-land of her lower back.

God help me, he thought. It’s just a massage. Nothing more. Totally normal. Totally fine.

Brief gulped, his hands hovering just above Stocking’s lower back like they were about to cross a line he couldn't uncross.

Then came Kuromi’s calm voice, eerily sweet and composed:

“If you apply just a bit more pressure… Stocking might actually enjoy herself.”

Brief twitched. Enjoy herself?! He was barely keeping his cool as it was. But… well… this was his dare. And failing would probably lead to something even worse.

He hesitantly pressed his thumbs a little deeper into her muscles, working slow circles down her back. This time, her body actually responded—her shoulders slackened, her spine arched just a touch. It was working. He was doing it right.

“Mmnnnn~” Stocking suddenly moaned, dragging the sound out like a sensual violin note.

Brief jolted like he’d been electrocuted. “W-What was that?!”

“Oh~ I said it feels goooood” Stocking cooed dramatically. She let her legs shift slightly, enough to make her body stretch in subtle curves. “Keep going, pervert… You’re finally getting somewhere