"Western Fruit Pastry"
"If you don't mind my saying so, you and your Taiho don't really seem to get along," her friend observed one morning, swishing his small bowl of sake about with a casual flick of the wrist before expertly bolting it down in a single fluid motion. "In fact, one can't help but wonder whether Keiki's ever bothered to refer to you by name at all. Does he dislike you that much?"
At this, En-ou's better half snorted and thwacked him soundly in the back of the head. The large man managed to partially dodge the attack, causing him to temporarily choke on his drink, the last dregs of his first bottle that day. "Don't be such a dumbass! Man, what a thing to say!! Although...." The young boy paused, casting a guilty glance in the redhead's direction, "...you should probably give him a nickname or something, or else soon people are gonna start to wonder...."
The Empress of Kei mildly replied that there had indeed been one occasion in which these things had occured, but that quite unfortunately the circumstances just weren't repeatable.
The dark-haired man laughed, perhaps a little too heartily. "Not repeatable? Ah, c'mon. It couldn't have been that bad...."
The crimson-haired woman's left eyebrow twitched dangerously. "Remember that spiked wine you sent us last Spring Festival?"
.........................................................................................................
There was blood... not much, but it was coming from somewhere very personal, and if being with her hadn't been such a pleasurable experience, he may have passed out right then and there from sheer proximity. As it was, things were already beginning to get a bit muzzy. For instance, there was something... in the back of his mind.... He was or wasn't supposed to be doing.... It would come to him.
"Say my name, B..tch!"
Sheets gripped tightly caused white knuckles to turn impossibly whiter, accompanied by the brief notion that no poem written could ever adequately describe this feeling of release.
"Y... Youko."