"What do you mean with 'this again'?" Pokora asked, looking at the drunk Oni.
"Come on, Yolin," I sighed, ignoring the Elf and shaking my head. "You're 201 years old. Control yourself."
"Hahaha..." the drunk woman chuckled, approaching me. "You always try to get away, Natasha."
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose with my right hand. It always went this way with Yolin. I felt the effect of the alcohol and took a deep, calming breath.
"No, it always ends the same," I stubbornly refused. "You gasping for air with a satisfied smile. What about me?"
The Oni took a few steps and wrapped her arms around my neck.
"Come ooooonn!" she begged with a pout. Her breath smelled of whiskey and I looked away, a little embarrassed, "I know you like it, Natasha. I know you need it as much as I do."
"Wow..." Pokora breathed out.
"It'll be quick, I promise," Yolin continued. "You always have a big silvery smile on your face when we do it, don't act like you don't enjoy it."
