Author's note: written after chapter 69. Assumes Kazuma and Bishamon survive, and that Kazuma had turned or nearly turned phantom after stinging her.
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The water from Kofuku-dono's spring is cold at first, but after a few minutes the shower is warm and Bishamon is able to lean heavily against the stool propped up against the wall. Her muscles ache - she had swung shikki easily in the hours before, but now her arms hurt as she gingerly washes her hair and body. Her body is covered with a multitude of cuts and bruises - one boot-sized welt by the crest of her ribs, a large gash across the side of her thigh - and she moves slowly, stiff from the pain in her arms and legs. Holy water mixes with dirt and grime and dribbles along the bathroom tile, and she winces a little as the water stings against open wounds.
She has always been grateful for Kofuku-dono's friendship. Even as the Heavens cast her aside, the Binbougami cheerfully offered her and Kazuma safe harbor. ("The Heavens don't like me anyway~!" Kofuku-dono said happily, when Bishamon protested. Behind her, Kazuma had kept his eyes downcast as Daikoku quietly prepared a room.)
She switches off the light, then drags herself onto the bed, which Daikoku had made a few hours earlier. It is too much effort to try to get dressed or even drape the blanket over herself; she sags onto a pillow, curling her body into the least painful position she can muster.
Across from her, Kazuma is leaning heavily against the wall. He is just as tired and injured as she is, but he seems weighted even more by the fact that he had stung her. He doesn't look at her; he avoids her eyes.
"Kazuma," Bishamon says, and she holds an arm out across the bed. She sees him lift his eyes, which are wet and swollen, and he swallows thickly. "Kazuma, come here."
He hesitates a moment- should I? Do I deserve to be close to her?, she can read it plainly on his face - before evidently deciding he shouldn't go against his master and slowly rising from his seated position. Bishamon smiles at him encouragingly as he sits heavily on the mattress. She pulls herself closer, one outstretched hand clasping him around his waist, before dragging herself onto his lap. He looks like he's going to cry when he gently rests his hand on the side of her head, then carefully begins to comb at the damp tangles of her hair.
The room is quiet. She is beginning to drowse when she feels Kazuma shift position, gently trying to ease her head off his lap.
"Is this uncomfortable?" she asks, softly.
His voice is thick when he answers. "No."
"Then why are you moving?" she asks.
A moment. "I thought you were falling asleep."
"I was," Bishamon says. "I'd like you to stay with me."
Another moment. She can feel his indecision before he answers her. "I'll just be right there," he says. He is talking about his spot in the corner.
"Kazuma. Did I not just say I want to stay with you? You will stay with me tonight and we will share this bed."
Kazuma starts, "Veena, I-" before Bishamon cuts him off.
"Stay," Bishamon says. And then, "I do not wish to sleep alone."
He nods - he has never openly defied his master - and quietly he takes off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand. Bishamon nods at him and lifts the covers, wrapping her arms around his body as he gingerly slides into the bed. The fabric of his shirt is thin and she can feel the warmth of his body as she settles against him.
There is a comfortable spot between Kazuma's neck and shoulder, and Bishamon tucks herself against him, resting her cheek on his chest and curling her leg across his hip. She sighs against his neck. Her mouth rubs against the tender skin of his jugular.
Sometimes, when she sleeps with Kuraha in his lion form, she will nuzzle her face against his mane the exact same way she is nuzzling Kazuma now. She has always loved the softness of Kuraha's mane, the sturdy warmth of his lion's fur and the thick, ropy muscles beneath, and perhaps it is this habit that makes it so easy for her to curl up next to Kazuma now. One arm slung heavily across his chest, her leg across his hip and the front of her body pressed firmly against his side, she nestles her face against his chest the way she would Kuraha's mane.
But unlike Kuraha, Kazuma is shaking. His muscles are tense beneath her body. While Kuraha would purr and softly knead her at her back, Kazuma's arms stay ramrod straight against his sides, and while Kuraha would be relaxed and drowsing, Kazuma is more awake than ever.
"Am I hurting you?" Bishamon says. She realizes Kazuma is just as injured as she is - she could be resting her weight on a deep bruise or an open wound, but that self-sacrificing streak of his would make it so that he would rather suffer in silence than to simply tell her - and she is about to apologize for her carelessness when she realizes Kazuma is crying. He swallows and blinks rapidly, staring up at the ceiling as tears roll down the sides of his cheeks.
"Kazuma?" Bishamon says, and Kazuma sobs, quietly. She moves but he turns on his side and buries his face against her, and Bishamon worriedly pulls him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His sobs are choked, broken, and Bishamon doesn't know what to do, feeling wholly inadequate to comfort him.
"Why are you crying?" Bishamon says. She stares up at the ceiling, lost. "Kazuma. We're fine. What on earth is wrong?"
He shakes his head against her shoulder and hugs her tight, sniffing and taking deep, shuddery breaths. "I almost lost you," he says, raggedly. "I couldn't control myself. I stung you." There is a quiet horror in his voice. "Veena...I'm so sorry."
"Hush," Bishamon says, and she hitches him closer. "A shinki stings their master when their master errs. You did nothing wrong."
She has never seen her Kazuma so broken. He cries and his body is wracked with violent sobs, and Bishamon holds him, silently hating herself for not knowing how to deal with this better. A proper god would know how to comfort her shinki, but Bishamon is wholly unsuitable for this task. "It is all right," Bishamon says, softly. "I should never have put you in that position in the first place."
He nods miserably and she strokes his head, and for the first time this whole night she feels his body relax. They have switched positions - now she is the one lying on her back with his face and body tucked into her shoulder - and as she hitches him close she can feel the weight of his body against her bare skin. Quietly she presses a chaste kiss on his forehead - she has kissed Kuraha and her other children numerous times like this - but as she does Kazuma lifts his head up, abruptly. It is the first time she has ever kissed him, not for never wanting to, but because of the vague sense from Kazuma that doing so would be improper.
"Veena?" he says. His eyes are searching hers. Bishamon smiles softly, reaching out to touch the side of his face.
He stares at her wonderingly. She can feel his longing like an ache at the center of her chest, and the connection between them throbs hotly. His eyes are wide and his heart is beating hard against her skin.
Slowly, she tilts her head upward, and lets her mouth graze the side of his lip. Carefully she moves her lips, brushing her mouth along the wet trail of his tears, kissing the side of his face and then the corner of his eyes. The ache grows. She had thought the action would soothe him, but instead she can feel his emotions roiling beneath the surface. Doubt and uncertainty and so much self-loathing. She wishes she were better able to comfort him.
His longing is overwhelming. She smiles and kisses him again, carefully kissing him on the center of his lower lip. His lips are soft and dry and part gently, and though the night is cool her flesh feels hot and soft underneath his hands, which have settled around her waist, although just barely.
He sighs quietly. His eyes are still swollen and he drinks the air with ragged breaths. "We can't," he says, hoarsely. Their foreheads touch. She doesn't know what he means.
"Can't...?" she says.
"We can't do this," Kazuma says.
Their faces are close. If she were to tilt her chin upward she would be kissing him again. "Why?" Bishamon says.
"Because..." he struggles. "Because you deserve better."
"Better?" Bishamon says. She strokes his face, nudges her forehead against his.
"I don't want something better," Bishamon says, softly. "I want my Kazuma. I want you by my side."
"I-" Kazuma closes his eyes again, a tear spilling over. She smiles up at him and kisses him again, pulling him close, trying to comfort him. She squeezes his body and he squeezes his eyes, and when she kisses him again he kisses her back. "I'll hurt you," he says again. She kisses the side of his face, dragging her mouth along his neck and wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Veena-"
"Kazuma," Bishamon answers.
She has lived to see the heavens torn asunder and her blessing shattered against the craggy rocks. She will not let go. She will not give in.
When he was new and young, there were times when she wanted to kiss him. He would look at her with blushing deference back then, but she would watch the way he moved with growing affection. His clumsiness, his eagerness to please - she didn't understand what she felt for him, then. It was a feeling she couldn't articulate into words.
She communicates best in battle. Each swing of her sword, each strike and cut speaks more clearly for her than useless words. This is how she shows her love - by fighting, defending. Protecting. Shielding them with her body, taking and dealing those blows.
But tonight is a different battle, and though the muscles in her shoulders burn from the day's earlier exertions, she moves forward the only way she knows.
Her mouth drags hot across the tender line of his collarbone, her hands unbuttoning the front of his shirt and sliding around his ribcage. She has never wanted him more badly than this, when his body is a study in small imperfections: a dozen pockmarked scratches peppering his flank, the harsh burns seared into the meat of his shoulder. She sees the cuts along his arms and the dark bruises dealt to him by the heavens, and thinks to herself how easy it would be to destroy them.
But for her blessing she would have gladly turned into a god of vengeance. She tells him this by gathering her fingers into his hair, tugging him roughly against her while her hand gropes blindly for his. She finds it, then hauls it up toward her bare chest. She is rewarded with a soft gasp and startled straining of his hips against her.
His mouth is hot when he kisses her back, and she can feel the growing hardness between them. She kisses him frantically, her body growing lax with need as her hands go to his belt buckle. The belt clinks with protest but she is able to undo it anyway, scrabbling at the button of his pants until he relents and undoes it for her.
Her mouth latches hard to his neck as he yanks off his shirt and pushes down his pants, and they fall back onto the bed clumsily, Bishamon gasping at the sudden moist warmth of his mouth on her breast, his thumb rubbing harsh circles along her other nipple. The covers on the bed bunch up uncomfortably by her hip, and she pushes them aside, the remainder of Kazuma's clothes falling in a messy heap on the floor.
"Kazuma," she gasps, feeling his weight heavy against her stomach. "Kazuma, I need-we need to-"
"Okay." He reaches a hand between their bodies, and she feels the blunt head of his erection against her.
She tenses. It is a foreign sensation and he has trouble pushing inside.
"I'm hurting you," he whispers, appalled.
"I've had worse before," she says.
"Veena-"
"Don't stop," she says, and she digs her heels into his flank and bears down, forcing her body to submit as he slides up inside and penetrates her fully.
She cries out. The pain is surprisingly sharp and she bites her lip to keep from crying.
"Oh Veena! Veena! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" and he pulls out quickly, the abruptness of the motion leaving her feeling bereft. Tears roll down her face and he gathers her close, kissing her eyes and desperately stroking her hair.
"Veena-"
"It's okay," she says. Her voice is hoarse. "I wanted you to."
She feels him hitch her close and she presses against him, shaking slightly. Waves of humiliation and self-hatred crash through their connection, and weakly she reaches a hand around his waist in an attempt to reassure him. "Let me try again," she whispers. He shakes his head.
"That isn't a good idea."
"Just let me try," she says, and she hovers over him. He's on his back this time, and she stills as he helps her guide him to her entrance. The feeling is uncomfortably full and stretched as she slowly lowers herself, sucking in the air in tense breaths.
The pain is nothing compared to the throng of enemies she faced just a few short hours earlier. She is a war god used to throwing herself in battle, and this instance is no different. With relief she realizes he's finally fully sheathed inside her, and she leans against his chest and tries to keep from moving, waiting to adjust to his size.
He throbs inside her suddenly and she gasps, surprised at the sensation. "What was that?" she whispers.
"I couldn't help it," he says.
"Does this feel good?"
His face is red but he nods apologetically.
"I see." Carefully she rolls her pelvis forward, watching his face. His mouth opens in a half-parted 'o,' and she feels another involuntary movement. Another pulse. He sighs softly, but his hips remain still.
She has always been good at using her body, and she finds that mastering this act is little different. Pushing up against his shoulders, she begins to move her hips slowly, dropping a soft kiss along the side of his cheek.
His voice is a low whine when he whimpers, "Veena," and she takes that as confirmation that she is moving correctly. The pain has long since subsided; she feels him slide in and out, and gradually it starts to feel good. She moves on instinct, sighing and grinding her core against his pelvis.
It feels good. It feels good to move, the whole length of him sliding deliciously in and out. It feels good to grind down on his pelvis, pleasure gathering against her clitoris and making her thighs shake. She grinds down savagely against him, desperate to feel more of that sensation.
He lets out a soft cry, and she leans forward, breathing hard and straining against him. Her hair swings over her face as she moves, pistoning her hips and ignoring the burning pain in her arms and legs. Her muscles still hurt and her arms begin to shake, and every wound and bruise seems to hurt worse on her body. She tries to ignore the pain in her arms but the burning in her shoulders is too much to take.
"Forgive me, Kazuma, but I don't think I can continue." His eyes snap open. He makes a move to pull away when she pushes down on him determinedly.
"I am sore from the day's battle." She looks him in the eyes as she speaks, reassuring him. "My arms are sore from holding shikki. I think it would be better if you did this."
His eyes are bright. Worried. "Are you sure?"
She smiles at him, nodding. "If you wouldn't mind?"
"I- no, I don't mind." He scrabbles out from underneath her.
She lies on her back and smiles up at him, letting her knees fall to the side. He hovers above her uncertainly, before leaning forward, cradling her close to him. He kisses the hollow of her sternum, then moves to kiss a line down toward her navel and toward the crest of her hip, carefully avoiding the areas of bruising and raw, chaffed skin.
Bishamon cranes her neck upward, watching him. He is kissing her open-mouthed against her leg, rubbing his mouth along the soft flesh of her inner thigh before pressing penitent kisses along the mottled bruise along her flank. Gently, he begins to mouth the wet seam of her body, kissing her lower lips like a mouth before softly licking upwards.
She gasps at the sudden sensation of it, the pleasure building as he focuses his attentions on the small pink bud above her entrance. Each lick is slow and soft and deliberate, and she moans hoarsely and pushes her pelvis upward, rocking her hips against his mouth and straining toward something. She breathes. He sucks gently and continues his ministrations. She tightens her thighs and strains upward, higher and higher.
She cries out and pitches forward, jerking hard with irregular beats. The pleasure is sharp and intense and she sobs from the stimulation. Eventually the pleasure slows, and what was once explosive and overwhelming dies down to a scattered popping. Her body quakes. Her heart thunders in her ears as she tries to catch her breath.
"Kazuma. What..." she opens her eyes, breathlessly. "What was that?"
"I think you had an orgasm." His voice is soft. He moves up along the length of her body, shyly.
"Does it always feel like this?" she asks. He leans against her, cradling her against him. "Why haven't we done this earlier?"
He laughs softly against her collarbone. "It would be improper," he says. His eyes are smiling. They kiss and he moves a hand between their bodies, positioning himself against her entrance. One smooth stroke, and he slides inside her easily. She gasps and beams up at him, happy, reaching a hand upward to caress his cheek.
"You know," she says, smiling. "You have always been the only shinki who could penetrate me."
He laughs softly. "Because I was a nail?"
"Because you are my blessing, and you always will be."
She gazes up at him tenderly.
They kiss. His tongue probes her mouth and he gathers her close, moving with dogged purpose. He pants and squeezes his eyes, the skin of his forehead flushed and damp. She hugs him and his thrusts grow more erratic. He sighs and breathes hard against her cheek.
He pulses inside of her, filling her with his seed, and his body grows still and motionless. Instinctively, she pushes her pelvis upwards and grinds against him, tightening her flank and thighs until she brings herself to a second orgasm, jerking hard and clutching at his shoulders. She feels his heart beating rapidly through his chest, his ribs expanding and contracting as he breathes.
For a moment, they lay there motionless. They breathe in tandem, her fingers laced tenderly through his. Her heartbeat slows and she feels him nuzzle shyly against her.
"I love you," he says, softly. Even now he seems unsure, as if she could still reject him at this very moment. But Bishamon beams up at him and kisses him, smiling. Her eyes are soft when she looks at him again. "Veena I love you so much."
"I know," she says, gently. His eyes are bright and she smiles up at him, fondly.
The rest of the night, they lay curled against each other's bodies, Bishamon dropping soft kisses along the side of his throat. He has loved her for centuries, but it took nearly losing him for her to have finally understood:
He is such a small vessel, but to her, he will always be a precious, unattainable entity.
She wants to treasure him. He is a vessel she would never wish to lose.