Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Altered Perceptions ❯ Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.

 

Altered Perceptions

 

Chapter 4

 

It had been a tense few days.

 

Perhaps tense was the wrong term. There was certainly tension between the two Okashira, but it had nothing to do with the usual issues that plagued them.

 

The first night, right after their encounter in the dojo, Misao was conspicuously absent from dinner. As soon as Aoshi entered the room, her face had turned bright crimson and she'd disappeared out the back. Later that evening, as he sat reading in his room, her presence ghosted past his door, her ki like a heated caress on his skin. The memory of her small hands on his chest almost stirred him to follow her, but his restraint prevailed.

 

The next day, she was gone on some mission until evening. He was restless, having gotten used to the calming nature of her bright presence even several rooms away. She did arrive in time for dinner. As his eyes met hers over the table, a delicate blush replaced the red stain from the night before. The combination of her pink cheeks and shy glances made him long to trap her in his embrace again.

 

She spoke to him on the third day, just a few words, but the barest tremor in her voice told him that he hadn't chased her away. He allowed himself a rare smile at the discovery, causing a lovely blush and wide expression from his Misao.

 

Yes, his Misao. Remembering the feel of her in his arms combined with their private moments together had cemented his desire for possession. Their arguments seemed to provide an additional spark. Aoshi was finding that while his soul craved peace, he enjoyed the challenge she provided.

 

But, as with everything, he was set on proceeding with caution. His glacial patience refused to rush things. Misao was worth pursuing correctly.

 

Now he just had to determine what correctly was.

 

~*~

 

One week after the dojo, a messenger arrived from his operatives watching Suzuki “Taro” Ichiro. Thanks to Misao's information, they'd been surveiling where he stayed. True to the intelligence, he seemed to stay ensconced in the meager home, only leaving twice a week to visit his woman, Sakura, at the whorehouse.

 

Whorehouse was a bit of a misnomer - the madam offered `companionship,' much like a geisha okiya, but without everything the finer pleasure houses offered. There was no mistaking why Suzuki frequented this establishment, though Sakura was one of the best girls available.

 

Something about his movements bothered Aoshi. Suzuki was intimately involved in the operations of the yakuza gang on some level, and yet almost two months later he had yet to make moves towards consolidating power. He received no visitors, even when at the whorehouse. There had to be something missing, but his operatives had turned up nothing. Other known yakuza members still at large similarly had not surfaced, though the lower-ranking thugs were always milling around.

 

The message he received contained a brief update, as well as confirmation of Suzuki's impending visit this evening. Dissatisfied with the lack of information, Aoshi decided it was time to get more directly involved. He inked a quick response to the main operative watching Suzuki, assigning him to continue to tail the target, while putting another on the residence. There had to be something else going on.

 

Messenger away, he moved to his room to clothe himself for an evening of spying. There was something his operatives were missing that he may be able to discover. He trusted his people, but years of experience at his trade gave him an innate sense that others lacked.

 

The night promised to be cold, the late fall evening holding some of the damp chill that heralded the coming of winter. Aoshi selected a lightweight long-sleeved black top that fastened close to the neck. Loops at the wrists connected to the insides of his supple gloves, concealing as much skin as possible at all times. Black pants tied closely at the ankles and pressed into soft boots to provide soundless but unrestricted movement. Two crossing chest straps formed a harness for his twin kodachi, held in separate sheaths for easier movement in tight spaces. A few other weapons secreted about his person completed his preparations.

 

A knock at the door sounded as Aoshi was reaching for the black hood-like mask that would cover his features. Okina entered without waiting for permission, calculating eyes scanning Aoshi's outfit.

 

“I saw the messenger leave. Do you have an operation tonight?”

 

“Yes. It's time I take a hand in this.”

 

Okina nodded sagely, looking out the small window into the growing darkness.

 

“It must be the evening for it. Misao is out as well.”

 

Aoshi paused in his double-check, looking at the old man with a question in his cool gaze.

 

“I don't know,” Okina answered with a shrug. “Seems that it's something she's been working on for a while. She had that determined look.”

 

Aoshi couldn't stop his jaw from clenching involuntarily. He knew that look all too well, and was one that frequently made him uneasy. She usually reserved it for her bigger challenges, ones that often involved delicacy, strength or danger.

 

He shook his head a little to clear his thoughts. Misao wanted to take care of her business, and he needed to let her. Interfering would push her away, and a corner of his head cringed at the thought.

 

She would be fine.

 

As long as she stayed out of his way.

 

“Is that all?”

 

Okina nodded, turning to leave the room.

 

“Good luck.”

 

Aoshi nodded as he followed the old man out of the room, pulling on his mask and fastening it securely. The final piece in the outfit brought his cold professionalism to the surface, his movements becoming smoother and more efficient with every step. By the time he was exiting the concealed back door of the Aoiya and ascending to the rooftops his body had automatically shifted into the sleek crouch that was the hallmark of silent ninja movement.

 

Still, as the roofs of Kyoto flashed beneath his feet, his emotions refused to be locked away. This was happening more and more frequently. It seemed every emotion loosed in him by his blue-eyed kunoichi refused to be completely submerged again. Now that the cold fury of vengeance and the heavy guilt that followed were far diminished, more troublesome emotions bubbled to the surface. It was taking some effort to keep his internal landscape behind the wall of ice.

 

Aoshi worried about her as he silently moved through the night. Not as the guardian questioning her future, but with a visceral need to protect of what was his. He refused to let her bright spark be diminished by the gritty, dangerous and often amoral nature of their work. The thought of her spirit being damaged somehow, that light withdrawing from the world, drove a spike of fear through his gut.

 

He couldn't let her become like him.

 

With a slight grimace, Aoshi forced those thoughts to the back of his mind. He was approaching his target location. The narrow peaked roof of a store provided a perfect vantage point into the second-floor window of the pleasure house. The windows were open to the clear night, the half-moon just in view over the horizon. Warm light spilled out from the currently empty quarters, but the comfortable cushions, low table and rolled-up futon were easily within view.

 

He had just settled into a well-concealed position when his operative appeared beside him. The smaller man, called Rei, was easily noticeable by Aoshi's trained senses, but he nodded in satisfaction at the ease and silence of the man's movements. Rei leaned as close as he dared and murmured lowly for Aoshi's ears only.

 

“Number two at residence. No movement. Target approaching.”

 

Aoshi nodded in response, and Rei moved away slightly, finding a nearby spot on the roof to conceal himself.

 

Before long, the shoji in the visible room slid open, and Suzuki strode in. He was clad in a fine kimono, his bald head and puckered red scar standing out sharply. The confident swagger and slight limp in his movements that had been reported to Aoshi was evident as he surveyed the room. It would be hard to miss him in a crowd.

 

Suzuki sat against a set of cushions facing the door and window. He smoothly removed a black-sheathed tanto from his kimono and placed it to his side. It was obvious that he was extremely comfortable in this place, behaving as if it was his own. Considering he came here almost twice a week, that wasn't surprising.

 

Aoshi settled himself quietly into a more comfortable ready position, senses piqued for whatever was to come.

 

It was almost ten minutes later when a light knock sounded on the shoji, and a kneeling woman bowed in the doorway. Her dark head was all that was visible as she spoke to Suzuki with deference in a quiet, light voice.

 

“Suzuki-sama, Kanoko-san has been delayed. I deeply apologize. I have been asked to provide you drink and companionship until her arrival. Does this please you?”

 

Suzuki's eyes narrowed in irritation, an unkind grimace on his face.

 

“It does not please me to be kept waiting.” His voice was rough as he growled. The woman's bent head flinched just slightly. “Let me see your face to see if you are worth my time.”

 

The woman gracefully rose up to present herself to the dangerous man. Aoshi's heart stopped in his chest.

 

It was Misao.

 

He took in her startling presence in an instant, glossy black hair pulled up into a feminine bun with a decorative comb and face painted subtly to change her already pretty looks to a more sensual visage. The jade kimono with black patterned obi brought out the green in her eyes, making them dance in her pale face.

 

Heat rushed through him in that moment. She was beautiful, and his body was rising with the desire to claim her.

 

Suzuki smiled darkly.

“I believe you will do just fine.”

 

The heat changed from desire to anger so quickly that it brought spots to his vision. Every curse he knew blurred through his mind at the foolishness of her actions and at his inability to do anything about it. The mission was too important to worry about her involvement just yet. Suzuki was the strongest lead they had.

 

Aoshi was clenching his hands so hard that he could feel his blunt nails digging into his palms through the leather. An odd look from Rei got him to relax slightly, but his nerves would not back down from their razor edge of readiness.

 

Misao glided into the room with small swaying steps, a tray with a large sake carafe balanced in her hands. Aoshi fought not to tense as Suzuki's eyes followed her movements eagerly. She walked to the window, placing the tray down on a surface below the opening.

 

“Would Suzuki-sama care for a drink?” Misao's voice was uncannily different, and Aoshi had to keep his eyes glued to her beautiful face to remind himself that it was her.

 

The scarred man patted the cushions next to him.

 

“Only if you come sit next to me.” Misao seemed to blush prettily at the suggestive leer on his face. Aoshi just ground his teeth.

 

“Give me a moment please.”

 

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Suzuki turned towards the doorway. Aoshi caught the subtle movement of Misao's fingers as a tiny white triangle appeared in her hands and a fine powder emptied into the sake carafe. The triangle was gone a moment later, secreted into her obi. It happened so quickly that Aoshi had time to catch the voice of the attendant that spoke from the doorway.

 

“Suzuki-sama, Kanoko-san will be here within the half hour. Please enjoy Sakura-san's company for a little bit longer.”

 

Suzuki nodded in response, impatiently waving away the speaker as Misao approached him, a cup now accompanying the carafe on the tray.

 

Aoshi forced himself to observe her movements clinically, beating down the anger that threatened to blind him. Every smirk and leer directed at her from the gangster picked away at his shields. Her stunning visage did little to help. That and the sight of her unbound chest as she gracefully bent to sit.

 

Shaking himself with an internal curse, he watched her motions carefully. She poured a generous cup of steaming sake for the man, deftly pouring another when he finished it in one swig. Aoshi noted the barest hint of eagerness in her eyes as she poured the second cup. What did she put into his drink that would make her anticipate its consumption? Something with a cumulative effect? Aoshi tuned in more fully to their conversation.

 

"I haven't seen you before, Sakura. Surely the madam wasn't hiding you from me?"

 

Misao laughed lightly behind her hand.

 

"This is my first week, Suzuki-sama."

 

A lustful glint passed through Suzuki's eyes. He emptied the cup and ran a heavy hand down Misao's arm as she refilled it.

 

"So you're new then," he said lowly, insinuation filling his voice.

 

Misao blushed and shivered a little, which seemed to pique Suzuki's interest further. Aoshi forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose to resist the urge to strangle the man. Misao kept her head down as the blush subsided. Suzuki laughed at her shyness, relaxing back to drink more.

 

As the man tipped his head back, Aoshi caught Misao observing her companion shrewdly. Suzuki's arm went across Aoshi's view of her, and she was back to the shy visage.

 

"But Suzuki-sama, I was informed you are exclusive to Kanoko-san. Surely one such as myself cannot compare to her."

 

'Hardly,' Aoshi caught himself thinking.

 

Suzuki was taking a while to respond. Aoshi noted the sway in his form, and the light sheen of perspiration on his brow. Whatever Misao had put into the sake was working. The man drained his cup with a shaking hand, which she filled again.

 

"Kanoko-san and I have . . .a history together."  The gangster's words were slurring just slightly, and his voice had taken on a thicker quality.  Aoshi caught Misao's intent lidded gaze as she encouraged the man to take another drink. 

 

"A history?  What kind?" she pressed innocently.  Suzuki lowered the cup from his lips, gaze taking on a slightly hazy look.

 

"She is . . . was, my brother's wife," he paused, looking forward, cup poised in mid-air.  "He sold her to pay off debts.  I killed him and went looking for her.  It was some time before we were reunited."  His voice was oddly unemotional, as if he was reading from a scroll.

 

Misao raised one small hand slowly, and placed it gently on Suzuki's upheld wrist.  She watched him closely as she lowered it, taking the cup from his loose grasp. 

 

Aoshi was beginning to see what she'd done.  The drug was a potent truth serum, inducing a trance-like state.  The sake probably eased the way for a faster result.  She would have to be careful though.  The trance could be broken and the effects shaken off with sudden noise or too strenuous questioning.

 

“Suzuki-sama, how did you find Kanoko-san?” Misao's voice had gotten lower, closer to her normal tone, but still soft and pleasing. Aoshi found his eyes riveted to her all the more.

 

“Got in to the underground. Joined in all the way. Had to find her.”

 

“And when you found her?”

 

“In too deep. Good money, family you don't leave. I had her, didn't want to leave.”

 

There was a slight pause as Misao seemed to ponder her next question.

 

“What happened to your new family?”

Suzuki's face furrowed in a shadow of anger. Aoshi tensed, hoping the emotions didn't shake the man out of his state.

 

“Spying government bastards. Had one of their dogs kill us. Too afraid to get their hands dirty.”

 

Aoshi stifled his own surge of rage. He hadn't forgiven those men for hurting Misao so badly, and the gall of the man got under his skin.

 

“So how have you rebuilt?”

 

Aoshi leaned forward on his perch, he and Rei listening intently from their hidden posts. A smug smirk grew across Suzuki's hazy features.

 

“Gone even more underground. Used the smuggling tunnels for moving, disguises. Amazing how one marked like me goes unnoticed when covered up.”

 

Aoshi ground his teeth. The bastards were getting sneaky, and his agents had been careless. This mission went beyond duty now. It was personal. He motioned Rei over with a sparse movement.

 

“Got to the residence. Number two must find the tunnel entrance. Return to observe target.”

 

The barest rush of air was his reply as Rei departed. Aoshi heard Misao finish a question as he returned his attention to the target.

 

“. . . your next plans?”

 

Suzuki swayed a little, shaking his head. Aoshi tensed, recognizing the signs of the end of the drug's influence.

 

“Come now, Suzuki-sama, you can tell me,” Misao pressed slightly in a seductive tone.

 

A loud crash from the hallway caused both of the rooms occupants to jump. Suzuki raised a hand, rubbing his bald head in a habitual gesture. Misao returned to the demure visage of a pleasure-house courtesan.

 

“Would you like more sake, Suzuki-sama?”

 

The man looked at her shrewdly, then grinned lustfully.

 

“I think I'm ready for something else.”

 

Aoshi's world narrowed sharply to the two in the room in front of him. Red seeped into the edges of his vision as the gangster drew a large hand down the porcelain skin of Misao's face and neck. Her eyes were blank for a moment before they shifted back into her soft role. She placed a hand on his wrist and pushed gently.

 

“But, Suzuki-sama, Kanoko-san will be here any moment.” Her voice carried more than it needed to.

 

Suzuki's hand encircled her wrist and pulled it down to her side. His other grasped her chin, pulling her downcast gaze to his.

 

“Then she joins us.”

 

Aoshi's rage grew at the lewd tenor of the man's voice. He was torn between blowing Misao's cover, and possibly pushing the yakuza deeper into hiding, and ripping the loathsome cretin away from his Misao. Would she defend herself? Her statement about the other woman sounded suspiciously like a signal to his trained ears.

 

Suzuki began pulling at the neckline of her kimono, baring more pale skin to both men's eyes. Aoshi tensed further, the anger fast overriding his senses. Misao raised her other hand to pull up the slippery fabric.

 

“I can't,” she pleaded in that soft voice, “I'm not allowed, and Kanoko—”

 

The man grabbed her other wrist and twisted it back behind her, pulling her to his chest. Aoshi was nearly undone by her small cry.

 

“Shut up. You are mine, bitch.”

 

He leaned forward and buried his face in her neck. Aoshi was stretched to the breaking point. His pulse pounded noisily in his ears. He was almost paralyzed with rage.

 

Misao's face turned towards the window, just visible over the man's shoulder. For the first time that night, an emotion he rarely saw settled into those blue orbs.

 

Fear.

 

Something snapped.

 

A lighting-fast toss of two throwing needles extinguished the lights in the room. Aoshi followed in the split second after the lights dimmed. He deftly knocked Suzuki off of Misao and grabbed her, gloved hand over her mouth to stifle any sound. He was out of the window with his precious cargo before the gangster was on his feet.

 

A handful of rooftops had passed beneath his feet before her struggles, which had begun in the room, started throwing off his movements. He turned her in his hold long enough for her to see his eyes and relax in recognition. The warring emotions of relief and irritation in hers sparked his anger once more. He unceremoniously hoisted her over his shoulder, ignoring her gasp, and continued home all the faster.

 

How dare she be upset with him! She was in obviously in over her head back there, with that bastard's hands all over her. That man was touching, no, defiling what was his before he had a chance to taste it. In fact, he could smell the fetid combination of sake and sweat masking her clean scent. His arm tightened on her legs, and one small hand fisted in his top in response.

 

Aoshi's pace slowed as the Aoiya came into view. Piercing eyes noted smoke rising from the bathhouse, and he changed direction from the main house. Deftly noting no ki inside, he dropped to the yard and strode purposefully to the small building. Misao renewed her attempts to wriggle free.

 

“Put me down!” One small fist beat on his back, striking as many pressure points as she could reach. Aoshi held back a grunt at her more accurate blows. He was too angry to reprimand her.

 

He flung open the bathhouse door with a loud rattle, closing it behind them with enough force to jam the door.

 

“Dammit, what are you doing? Put me down!”

 

Without breaking his stride, he tossed her off his shoulder into the steaming tub. He tore off his mask and gloves as she sputtered to the surface. She struggled to stand with the full, wet kimono hampering her movements. The delicate makeup was running off her face, revealing the true beauty underneath. At some point, her hair had come loose from its coif, tendrils of wet hair drawing inky lines down her neck.

 

“What the hell is your problem?”

 

Aoshi did not answer, merely worked on yanking off his boots. Misao tripped, cursing and splashing back down into the tub as she struggled to pull the wet garment back onto her shoulders. Her eyes widened as he stripped off his shirt and gracefully stalked around the edge of the tub towards her. Gaze full of fire and ice, he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her dripping body towards his bare chest, face inches from hers.

 

“You stink of that man.”

 

He took the long tail of a dripping sleeve and roughly wiped her face and neck, wanting to clean any trace of that bastard from her skin. She pushed ineffectually against his ministrations.

 

“Is that what this is about?” she sputtered through the makeshift washcloth. “Me getting groped? I got some excellent information from that operation.”

 

He dropped the sleeve to grasp her arms again, shaking her lightly.

 

“You were more than groped. You were in over your head. The drug lost its effect, and he was not going to stop.”

 

She put her hands on his chest and locked her arms, bracing against his shakes.

 

“I had backup.”

 

“That didn't arrive.”

 

“You were spying on me!”

 

“You interfered in my surveillance.”

 

“He wouldn't have taken me.”

 

Aoshi snaked an arm behind her neck and yanked her face to his and snarled.

 

“That's because you are mine.”

 

His lips crashed down on hers.

 

He didn't so much kiss her as consume her. Raw passion, need and a bit of his own fear poured into her trembling body through his demanding lips and tongue. All traces of that disgusting smell were slipping away in the heat of the bathhouse, and he kissed her deeply to drink of her intoxicating taste.

 

Soon, she began kissing him back in between his onslaughts, tangling her tongue with his in just as insistent strokes. She explored his mouth almost as thoroughly as he did hers, the small muscle flicking along his lips and teasing the roof of his mouth. Her small hands gripped his shoulders tightly, kneading and squeezing the hard muscles there. Aoshi groaned as his erection strained harder against his tight pants at her actions.

 

He had to feel more of her. Sparks shot through him at her hands on his skin, and he wanted to drown in the sensation. His body craved her like water, feeling bereft without her touch. He wanted to take her until not even their skin separated them anymore. He wanted her to be his, always.

 

A brief moment of lucidity shot through his consciousness. He could not force her and have her remain with him. Tangling one hand into the wet mass of her hair, he pulled back and captured her gaze. Her quivering ocean eyes and swollen lips nearly drew him into take her again, but he somehow found one last thread of restraint to hold him back. Misao whimpered as she tried to seek his lips again, held back by his hand in her hair. He rested his forehead on hers, panting roughly.

 

“This is your chance to push me away. I want all of you, and I won't stop.”

 

Something warm passed through her passion-hazed gaze, and small arms flung around his neck. This time, he allowed her lips to reach his. With a groan, he crushed her small body to his and resumed devouring her sweet lips.

 

The need for her skin returned with a furor, and his hands began pulling at the knot in the back of her obi. His task was made more difficult by the incredible sensation of her hands in his hair, nails scoring his scalp delightfully. With a few impatient tugs, the long band of fabric loosened, and he tossed it away.

 

His mouth left hers, forging a blazing trail down the smooth column of her neck. Aoshi delighted at the small gasps and moans that Misao emitted with every lick and nip. He inhaled deeply at her shoulder, wrapping his senses in the clean scent of her. His hands slipped underneath the layers of her kimono at the shoulder and moved outward, forcing her hands away from him for just a moment. Once she was free of its confines, he let the heavy garment drop to the edge of the tub with a wet sound.

 

His hands wasted no time in exploring his newly bared treasure. Long fingers drew down the silken skin of her back, pressing into dips and curves while lips continued along her shoulder. Needing to be closer still, he pulled away just long enough to remove his pants. He smirked in male pride at her flushed gasp at seeing him naked. Being apart from her was agony, so he stepped smoothly into the tub and captured her lips again.

 

Wanting to taste and feel as much of her as possible, he knelt in the steaming water as his lips descended down her neck for a second time. He ran his hands down her sides, grasping the curve of her hip firmly. Her round, pert breasts drew his attention, lips seeking them out.

 

If touching her skin was electrifying, tasting was pure heaven. Aoshi cupped one straining peak, holding her body firm to his with his hand on her hip while his tongue danced out to taste the distended peak. Misao let out a half-shout, half-moan and tightened her fingers in his hair again. She tasted so sweet, with a tang of salt, he couldn't help but draw her nipple into his mouth and suck firmly.

 

She buckled against him, and his arm drifted under the water to cup underneath her delightfully round rear to hold her upright. He mercilessly teased the responsive flesh before him with his teeth and lips, savoring every whimper from her lips and jerk of her hips into his chest. He licked a trail to her other breast, and gave it the same treatment.

 

“Ah, Aoshi!”

 

His cock went from stiff to painfully hard at the sound of his name falling from her lips in passion. He couldn't wait any longer.

 

Aoshi removed his supporting arm from underneath her, and let her slide slickly down his body into the water. He groaned at the faint brushes of her wet skin against his erection. It was almost enough to make him lose himself thrusting against her. But he wanted more.

 

He quickly shifted them so that her back was against her discarded kimono on the edge of the tub. He spread her lithe legs across his bent knees, hands dancing up and down their tempting contours while he kissed her. Her hands were not idle, exploring the smooth plains of his chest and back. He jumped and groaned when she used her nails and then soothed the skin with soft fingers once more.

 

Control slipping with every touch, he positioned her hips so she hovered over his straining erection. Her hands stopped moving for a moment as a hint of uncertainty leaked in through the passion in her eyes. He met her gaze with all the want and need he felt, and kissed her until she relaxed. Always efficient, and burning with impatience, he thrust into her with one smooth stroke.

 

His mind went white for a few seconds. Dear gods, she felt amazing.

 

Almost painfully tight, wet, velvet heat surrounded him completely. It took every ounce of control he had left not to thrust madly into her welcoming body. She gasped into his kiss, nails scoring his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. The pain heightened his desire, making his stillness all the more excruciating.

 

Aoshi ran lightly trembling hands up and down her body, willing her to relax into him. His lips coaxed hers more gently, but with no less passion than before. One hand brushed down towards where they were joined together, seeking the pleasure point nestled in her wet folds. He knew he found it when she arched and gasped into him.

 

He continued to stroke the little bud with the rough pad of his thumb, pulling away from her lips to watch her writhe in front of him. She was stunning in her passion, cheeks flushed, debauched lips parted, hands clenching spasmodically on his skin. Finally, after aching moments feeling her move just barely along his shaft, she pressed her hips to his and begged for something more.

 

With great pleasure and only a modicum of restraint, he began thrusting smoothly into her, continuing to tease her clit with his hand. Misao moaned and met his thrusts with her hips as best she could, causing sparks of heat to frission up and down his embedded length. She felt so good, insides clenching his cock with every thrust, quickly wearing down his defenses.

 

Shifting so he was further up on his knees, he grabbed both hips in his hands and began thrusting in earnest. Nothing could have slowed the rapid pace, the desire to lose himself in her heat overwhelming. She shuddered around him, riding his pace as he went faster and faster. Finally, she clenched hard around him with a cry, and rushing heat tightened in his groin and shot through his shaft as he spilled himself inside her. The world dissolved into white once more.

 

When he returned to himself, he was panting heavily and clutching her still quivering body fully to his. Her damp head rested on his chest, hot breath bathing his skin as she tried to regain her breath. He basked in the satisfaction of their coupling, noting with pleasure the line of red marks along her neck.

 

`Mine.'

 

After several long minutes, her slight shiver against him moved him to action. He withdrew from her reluctantly, and gently kissed her lips. A thousand questions hovered in her tired gaze, but he shook his head lightly. Sleep would fast claim them both, and this was not the place to doze.

 

He rose from the tub, and pulled on his pants as best he could. Seeing no yukata available, he grabbed his black shirt instead. Lifting her effortlessly out of the water, he wrapped her small body in his shirt, smiling as it reached halfway down her calves. It would do for the short moments outside.

 

Cradling her in his arms, he un-jammed the door and swiftly made it across the yard in the evening chill. The secret back entrance silently let them inside, and he wasted no time in silently whisking them to his room. He placed her on her feet and toweled her off, enjoying her blush as he pulled the oversized shirt from her once more. While he could easily take her again, the slight sway in her movements spoke of her exhaustion.

 

He handed her another shirt of his to wear, and pulled on a sleeping yukata of his own after quickly drying himself. He smiled at her sleepy unmasked appreciation of his nude form before he closed the garment around himself.

 

They settled down into the futon, Misao squeaking slightly as he pulled her against his broad chest. He wanted her as close as possible, craving the touch of her body now that he'd had a taste. She snuggled into his shoulder, sighing a warm breath across his skin. Blue eyes looked up at him, and he leaned in to kiss her gently.

 

“Aoshi?”

 

Those questions were still evident in her sleepy tone.

 

“Tomorrow. Rest now.”

 

“Just one thing.”

 

He sighed.

 

“Yes?”

 

“This isn't the only time, right?”

 

His arms tightened around her unconsciously as he weighed his words.

 

“I won't let you go.”

 

She smiled against his chest, and he barely heard her response as she drifted into sleep.

 

“Good.”