I love purple prose.
Aya Shameimaru had never been a patient one. Running around on her own, she had always gotten what she wanted – and fast. And yet here she was, kneeling on the covered mats of a single story household, her back straight and erect. The reporter rested her thighs on her lower legs, which twitched with impatience. Only the scribbling of pen on paper broke the silence in the night – it was a meticulous report to be written to the higher-ups. A man was to write that report. That man was a human. And the human had no qualms about writing the report; it was just Aya who was annoyed.
"Sit," said the man. The human did not turn around from his chair. Aya, who had attempted to sneak in through the window, shamefully laid her knees on the mats and hung her head. The man was not to be bothered during work – she knew that. But she wanted to hunt him – to catch him unaware. Aya was the fastest but certainly not the sneakiest. Who would have known that the large, glass window would utter such a deafening scream when it opened? Certainly not Aya. She scooted closer to the human.
"Wait." The man, still focused on his work, commanded Aya to her knees again. Aya pouted, hoping that the man would sneak a look at her and immediately succumb to a beastly lust. The tengu needed to be showered with attention, otherwise she would whine and complain. She knew this, and so she inched a few centimeters closer. However, she would do as she was told. She would wait, even though she was not good at it. Was she no better than a dog? But here she was, waiting for her treat – her reward.
She would wait. Even though she thought of the man's lips pressing on her neck and his fingers entwined with hers, she would wait. Good things come to those who wait. And the tengu, restless as she was, sat down like a good girl.
The man held the pen in his hand. A plastic black crow sat on top of the pen, outstretching its tiny wings.. He pressed his lips to the crow out of contemplation. Aya blushed. She had done the same when it was her pen. Aya redirected her attention elsewhere out of her bashfulness. The man's clothes were, for the most part, traditional tengu attire. A robe of white, save for the dark-red sash that was more of a belt than obi.
Considering how much time he spent with the tengu, it was only natural. Despite all this, he was exclusively Aya's human. And she was exclusively his tengu. She tried not to think too much. Waiting was harder when one was as giddy as a schoolgirl.
The pen clicked shut. The man turned. In that moment, she pounced, toppling over the man with eager anticipation. Grinning impishly, Aya rested her head on the man's shoulder.
"Shall we?" whispered Aya, teasing the man's ears with her lips.
The man balked, shaking his head once. "One moment." He moved over to the open window and shut it closed. He then slid the blinds down and covered them with the curtains for good measure. The reporter, none too keen about voyeurism, blushed at her mistake. He smiled. "Now then."
The man did not wait another moment. He swept Aya off her legs and threw her on top of the bed, provoking a surprised yelp from the tengu. Two predatory eyes met Aya's. How quickly the predator became the prey. She averted her gaze, suddenly on the defensive. But she could not wait any longer. The tengu pulled her human down into the bed, covers and all strewn over the mattress. Soon, the covers were on the floor and her clothes were on the covers.
The tengu gasped sharply, shivering at each touch. He guided his hands to her hair, her breasts, her everything. He traced imaginary shapes on her back and nuzzled the side of her neck. Aya, unable to contain herself, withdrew a sharp breath. She attempted to restrain her voice but to no avail. The tengu wondered how much sound traveled past the walls of the room. But she didn't have time for any more conjectures. Instead, the man drew her in for a touch of the lips and reached elsewhere, far below the breasts and the stomach.
Aya, unaware of his plans, suddenly found herself clutching the back of his robe. She buried her face in his shoulder to dampen her whimpers. Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged, and her self-dignity gone. She was not usually like this. It must have been the waiting.
Aya glanced at the man. For a brief moment, their eyes remained in direct contact. He then proceeded with a series of kisses on her breasts. Her hands, weak from the overwhelming sensation, somehow tightened their grip on his robe.
He moved his lips to where his hands were. Upon contact, Aya completely forgot the quiet of the night and let out a complete, thorough moan. Her sense of tact went under as soon as he did. Her inhibitions disappeared the moment he kissed her lower regions. And her lover did more than just kiss her there.
She felt herself nearing the edge. It became hard to formulate exact thoughts. Aya could not say a word, too focused on not biting her lip off. Her body convulsed, her moans becoming soundless gasps as he slowed down to let her finish. Her hands moved to the very sheets of the bed, grasping at them until her knuckles were white. With an exhale, she leaned on her lover's shoulder.
He pet her head, stroking her hair gently. Aya clung to him. She did not care that she wrinkled the folds of his robe. The entire scene was embarrassing. But that did not mean that Aya had enough. Though she had finished only a minute ago, the tengu wanted more.
But, like a good girl, she waited.
And so he rewarded her.
Already he was nibbling at her ears and caressing her bare breasts, greedily wanting more of the tengu. Aya reciprocated by hastily throwing off his robe. He whispered in her ear and she blushed and gawked and stammered until she felt him pressing against her. She then quieted down, save for her moan, which ricocheted off the walls. A hand quickly covered Aya's mouth. The man, red-faced, whispered in her ear. "I am overjoyed that you are excited, but I would like to keep our personal matters, well, personal."
His hot breath against her ear did wonders to her basic survival needs as she forgot to breathe. But only for a second. She recomposed herself. With an unsteady breath, she replied, "As you know, I am not good at keeping my mouth closed."
His look was of puzzlement and Aya quickly wanted to retract her words because of it. But he kissed and he teased and all of a sudden her words were the last thing on her mind anymore. He plunged completely inside of her, causing Aya to beckon. The man pushed her further into the bed's sheets and gripped her wrists. The tengu was helpless. She could have easily broken free, but then the show would have ended and she would not get what she really wanted. So she was helpless. Not that it not enjoyable; Aya secretly wanted him to push her over and have his way with her. Her unstifled moans to his movements made her desires not so secret. But her needs were still unfulfilled. She, with tears in her eyes, beckoned once more.
The man, caught by her sweet trap, obliged to her demands.
He pulled her close and she bit at his shoulder, grasping at his back and waist, desperate for intimacy. She cried for mercy and squirmed and wanted her lover to continue, though her half-hearted protests said otherwise. Her voice was weak when she resisted and yet so strong when she gave in to her own passion. Despite her verbal rebukes, she did nothing but hold his shoulders and clench her teeth to prevent the whole village from knowing. Not that it wasn't loud. Because it was.
Aya whined at the slightest change in angle, panting with undisguised pleasure after every movement made inside of her. The whining only stopped when he kissed her with rough force and brash embarrassment. Aya closed her eyes for the duration. Though unsubtle, though callous, she did not object.
She stared at his eyes. Two resilient brown eyes they were. The more that Aya looked into them, the more womanly she felt. She was still a girl, after all. Staring into her lover's eyes while making love was the exact sort of thing that she liked. But she wouldn't dare tell a soul. He probably knew but did not ask, lest he incur Aya's wrath.
She wrapped her legs around her lover in a fit of whim and desire and feel-goodness. He in return caressed her hips, grunting in warning and keeping himself steady. His pace quickened, the man desperate for release. Aya took it all in, arching her own back in deep want and bucking slightly. She had nearly bashed her head against his, but she had luckily missed.
She lay there, gasping for breath. Her lover did the same. She, in the overflowing afterglow, grabbed at him and held him close. "…Mine."
But he was already dozing by that time.
A rather noisy shuffling of pages woke Aya from her slumber. The covers were mysteriously back on the bed. Still groggy and sore from last night, she rolled over to massage her stiff shoulder. Probably slept on it wrong. Her hair was disheveled, her back ached, and her heart was aflutter. Throwing on a shirt, she stood up and sneaked to the man sitting precariously on the creaky, wooden chair. Draping her arms around the man's shoulders, Aya mumbled a soft good morning.
He tapped his pen on the counter, concentrating on the paper before him. "Tea's on the counter. I made some if you want it."
And then she realized. "Did you not finish your work yesterday?"
"…No," he gruffly replied. He blushed; he rarely blushed. "I was preoccupied."
Smiling, she threw herself back on the bed, draping her body with the covers. Tea will have to wait, she thought. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Aya, ever the impatient one, watched him scrawl his chicken-scratch handwriting.
And once more, she waited.