A/N: It's finally here. This monster comes to its conclusion. I hope it was worth the wait. Please leave feedback~! It inspires me to write more and to keep improving. Thanks, I hope you enjoy!
...
When Hiyori wakes, even before her eyelids flutter open, a smile begins to tickle the corners of her lips. Her face is pressed against Yato's chest. His arms are wrapped around her. She buries her nose deeper into the folds of his shirt, inhaling his soothing scent – her favorite in the whole world. His warmth curls around her, all the way to the tips of her toes. As cliché as it is, Hiyori wonders if last night was a dream and if she is still dreaming. She doesn't want to open her eyes to find out. She curves an arm around him, tugging him closer, feeling him solid and real in her embrace. The soft vibration in his chest as he says her name – she starts to believe – it coaxes her eyes open.
Then her ears are assailed by the shrill cry of her alarm clock. She groans loudly.
"I hit snooze the first time," Yato says, shutting off the alarm. "I hope that was okay..."
Hiyori nods briefly, not catching the rest of what he is saying. She's too busy relishing the fact that this is real. He pulls away a little to get a better view of her face. He's watching her expectantly. She thinks there may have been a question somewhere in there but she can't recall what it is.
"I'm sorry," she says, sheepishly. "I'm still half-asleep. What did you say?"
Yato's eyes dart toward her pillow then back at her face. His face colors a little. He presses his forehead against hers, and she feels her own cheeks warming to match his. She can hear him swallow his nerves.
"Do you think I could give you a good morning kiss?" His voice cracks, rising an octave higher than normal.
But all Hiyori can think about is his breath is warm against her skin. And the color that had begun to build drains from Hiyori's face all at once. Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes that it doesn't smell bad. At all. It's a little sweet even. It must be a god thing. Because she knows in all likelihood that her breath smells like she's had roadkill for breakfast. Her hand flies to her mouth of its own volition.
Yato springs away and snatches his arm back. His own expression mirrors her panic. Her hand falls.
"I-I'm sorry," he stammers. "If last night was a mistake-"
"No!" Hiyori shouts, slapping her hand over her mouth once more. Her cheeks warm again. Her voice comes muffled through the spaces between her fingers. "Last night was not a mistake. It's just..."
Yato watches her, holding his breath.
"...I have really bad breath in the morning," she mumbles.
Relief floods Yato's features. He chuckles a little, smiling as he reaches for the hand covering her mouth.
"I'll be the judge of that," he says.
She squeals in protest, and promptly hides her face in her pillow.
"Hiyori," Yato says flatly.
She rolls onto her stomach, shakes her head, face still firmly planted in her pillow.
"Hiyori," he says her name again, affectionate and a little exasperated.
She does another turn, rolling so her back is to Yato and her face is to the window next to her bed. Yato scooches closer, placing a palm on her shoulder.
"You've nowhere left to run." His tone is light and airy. His lips brush the nape of her neck.
She pushes herself up, wobbling a little as the mattress springs bounce beneath her weight. Then she clears Yato and the edge of the bed in one graceless leap. The thud from her landing shakes the floorboards.
"Hiyori-chan, everything all right in there?" her mother calls out from the other side of the door.
"Yeah, Mom," Hiyori calls back. "I'm fine."
She whips her head around to face Yato, her eyes wielding daggers. She glances at the clock.
"Crap, I'm not going to have time for breakfast if I don't hurry," she says. "I need to get going."
She shoves her arms into her uniform jacket. She doesn't bother to button it. She reaches for her doorknob, about to leave, when a pair of arms circle around her middle. Yato rests his head on her shoulder.
"I'll see you later." It it as once a promise and a question.
"Yeah," she tells him, a smile gracing her lips. "I'll see you later.
…
"So you do have a boyfriend?" Yama greets Hiyori as she enters the classroom. Her Cheshire grin is mostly concealed behind a sheet of handouts. Mostly
Hiyori burns scarlet. She sputters the beginnings of denial but it unravels, unsure of how she's supposed to describe her relationship with Yato now.
"What makes you think I have a boyfriend?"
"For one, you're wearing the same clothes as yesterday," says Yama. "I believe that's called 'the walk of shame.' "
Hiyori knits her brows together. "It's a uniform. Of course I'm wearing the same clothes as the day before."
"No, no, I mean the exact same clothes," Yama clarifies.
"Your shirt is wrinkled, and so is your skirt," Ami explains.
"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Hiyori protests weakly.
With eerie synchronization, Ami and Yama quirk their brows at her.
Hiyori wilts under their knowing gazes. She remembers clearly how she'd fallen asleep in her clothes, wrapped up in Yato's arms. Kissing him. She had never understood how couples could "lose track of time" so easily – how Yama would sometimes apologize for being late because she had been with her boyfriend just moments before. But now she knows. Yato's touch was so gentle, as if he softened all the way to very core of his being, to handle her like fine china because he couldn't bear the thought that touching her too solidly might break her – as if it could. Perhaps a part of him had been in disbelief, Hiyori knows she was. Still is, to a degree. It had been so easy to push aside, when the idea of being with Yato romantically had seemed so absurd – impossible, never going to happen, except it is happening and the reality is difficult to grasp.
The bell rings and class begins. Hiyori tries to pay attention to lecture, but fails.
His lips are so soft. She wants to feel them again, taste them. But everything that has transpired – they were together from dusk 'til dawn, as if the whole experience could exist within a time capsule that now closed. An isolated incident. It still feels strange. She worries over how she is going to greet Yato when she sees him next. Can she trust herself that they really had kissed and it wasn't all just a dream? But if it were a dream, that would mean no more tender kisses, shared warmth, his scent all around her – inhaling as if it oxygen alone were not enough to sustain her. It would mean an end to those things, and Hiyori doesn't want that. Every fiber, every nerve, every cell that makes up her being screams in protest at stopping what has just started with Yato. The thought makes her heart collapse on itself, sinking like an anchor to the pit of her stomach.
She silently chastises herself for her anxiety. She has nothing to worry about. The next time she sees him, it probably won't be just the two of them. Yukine will be there, and Kofuku and Daikoku. If she's with them, then doesn't have to worry about how she's supposed to act. Or so she assumes. She's counting on it. But there's another voice inside her that lifts her heart up, sending it aflutter, that reminds her what being alone with Yato might yield – what he said this morning. She feels the heat rise in her cheeks, shakes her head to clear it and goes back to taking notes.
She peeks at her neighbor's notebook. In her reverie she's missed quite a lot. She sighs, inwardly. At this point she has become accustomed to have to copy her classmates' notes. It's a miracle she passes, let alone is able to do well.
When Hiyori thinks the teacher might not be looking, she steals glances outside the window. She half-expects to see Yato out there, watching her. The other half of her hopes he really will be. The sky is clear today and it makes her think of Yato's eyes. Again. The way they light up when he's happy, how they pierce her to her center with their beautiful intensity. And his crooked smile is so ridiculously cute, and – she almost doesn't let herself think it - sexy.
But the school day passes without Yato appearing, and Hiyori is surprised to find herself a little disappointed.
"Heeey, who's up for some delicious baked goods?" Yama waggles her eyebrows as they pass through the school gate.
Ami grinned. "Sounds yummy. I'm in."
"Hiyori?" Yama prompts.
"Ah, thank you for the invite, but-" Hiyori fakes a yawn, "-I think I'm going to head home and nap. Have fun without me."
"No worries. Next time then," says Ami.
"Definitely. Bye." Hiyori nods and lifts her hand in farewell as she begins walking.
"Don't fall asleep before you reach your house, Hiyori!" Yama calls after her, waving enthusiastically with her arm high in the air.
"I won't!" Hiyori shouts back, turning her head as Yama evades Ami's elbow to the side.
Of course, she has no plans to nap. She's going to safely deposit her body at home and pay a visit to Kofuku's shrine. Excitement and anxiety wage a war within her, hot and tingly beneath the skin. The journey home is a mix between nearly running and walking as slowly as she possible can. There's also a period of standing in the middle of her bedroom, outside her body, with her feet cemented to the floor and tail frozen mid-swish. Oh god. Does Yukine know yet? What if he doesn't approve?
Hiyori takes a deep breath to calm herself and then immediately regrets it. In her spirit form, her heightened sense can pick up the smell of Yato that lingers in her room, that clings to her sheets. It's intoxicating, and add fuel to the flames of her anxiety as the events of last night replay behind her eyelids with crystal clarity. She invents a mantra for the way to Kofuku's: Just act normal and everything will be fine.
When she gets there Yukine is going over his exercises for their tutoring session. Daikoku and Kofuku are enjoying a cup of tea together at the living room table.
"Hey, Hiyori," Yukine greets her casually.
Excellent, she thinks to herself. She exchanges pleasantries with the three of them.
"Where's Yato?" Hiyori asks. Her voice cracks on his name. She clears her throat loudly then she sits down next to her student.
"He's asleep upstairs," Kofuku says.
Yukine rolls his eyes. "He said he couldn't get any sleep at all night. So now he's 'catching up.'"
Hiyori's mouth forms a small oval, but no sound comes out. Her shoulders fall back a little and stiffen. A trickle of guilt travels down her spine. Her bed isn't really made to fit more than one person. She remembers being fairly comfortable, however. Yato must have been cramped trying to give her room and not fall off the bed simultaneously. No wonder he couldn't sleep.
"I see," says Hiyori, forcing her body to relax through sheer willpower. It's only mildly successful. "So did you encounter any problems with the exercises I assigned you last time?"
"Just this one part." Yukine points to the offending question. "It's not that I was completely stumped, so I tried answering it. But I thought the question was also kind of weirdly worded so I wasn't one hundred percent sure what it was asking."
"Okay, why don't we go over the rest of it first, and then we can come back to that one after?" Hiyori suggests.
"Yeah, sure."
Hiyori skims over his answers, pleased at her ability to focus for the time being. She jots a couple notes in the margins. Yukine fidgets as he watches.
"Very good, Yukine-kun!" Hiyori smiles broadly when she's done. "You only made a couple mistakes, but they are relatively small ones."
"Thanks." Yukine rubs under his nose and turns away bashfully.
Hiyori imagines Yato ruffling Yukine's hair with pride. She nearly chokes on air. And she was doing such a good job not thinking about him too. She swallows and clears her throat again.
"Now let's go over that one you had a problem with..."
As she goes over it with Yukine, she's vaguely aware of footsteps overhead.
"Yato-chan must be up now," Kofuku says. Then there's a sharp intake of breath followed by "Yato-chan! Hiyorin's here!"
There's a thundering that Hiyori nearly mistook for her own heartbeat, but the source is above her. As Yato nears, his footsteps slow deliberately. The door slides open and their eyes lock of their own accord. Hiyori quickly blinks away.
"Hi, Yato," she says. Her voice wavers nervously.
"Hi," says Yato, a little breathless. He runs a hand through his hair.
"I'm just going over Yukine-kun's homework with him. I hear you've been sleeping all day." She keeps her tone light, though her body is rigid and heavy. She swore she was going to act normal but she's too caught up thinking about what the new normal might be to remember how to function at all. A hot swarm of butterflies in her stomach has robbed her of calm.
"Uh, yeah. I had a tough time falling asleep last night, I guess." Yato rubs the back of his neck.
His cheeks are a little pink and Hiyori feels her face warming to match. She is about to apologize for the size of her bed, but a head of blond hair in her peripheral reminds her they're not alone and she promptly pushes the apology back down. She doesn't want to make things awkward for Yukine.
"That's too bad," she says after a pause, shifting a little.
Hiyori's and Yato's eyes are all over the place, sometimes on each other but mostly finding other objects in the room to admire. The silence is suffocating and feels eternal. In reality in only lasts about twenty seconds.
"Hiyori, you don't have to act weird. I already know," says Yukine.
"You do?" Hiyori regards him, wide-eyed.
"Yato couldn't fucking shut up about it all morning. It was bragging non-stop. He finally fell asleep after fondling the shrine you-"
"You little shit! She doesn't need to know that!" Yato hooks his arm around his shinki's neck and reels him in for a noogie.
Hiyori giggles at their antics, a weight off her shoulders. She tucks away that bit of intel to ruminate on later.
When things calm down, she asks, "And, Yukine-kun you're okay with it?"
He shrugs, rubbing the spot where Yato had ground his fist into his hair. "Yeah."
"That's a relief." Hiyori places a hand over her chest, letting out a breath she'd been holding. "I don't want to make things awkward between the three of us."
"Yato by himself has us filled to the brim with weird. Awkward comes with the package."
"You want another one? I can give you another one." Yato points with one hand to the opposite arm, which he is holding out in a hook-shape, ready for noogie number two.
There's a stare down. Yato ultimately backs off, his phone ringing loudly. He puts it to his ear, his entire demeanor doing a one-eighty. His voice is chipper as he answers the call.
"Delivery God Yato, at your service! Fast, affordable, and reliable!" Yato makes some affirmative noises into the phone. He puts a hand on his shinki's shoulder. "Yukine, we've got a job to do. I'll catch you later, Hiyori!"
There's a flash of blue light, and the two of them are gone. Hiyori stays seated at Kofuku's living room table. For a while she just stares at the wall, Yato's farewell echoing in her ears. She doesn't know how to prepare herself. When is later? Would he visit her again tonight, or was that just a generic goodbye? Previously she would have thought nothing of it. She has no idea how she is going to be able to get any homework done knowing that Yato may drop by any minute. Knowing that a visit might mean a repeat of the night before, her face warms and her pulse quickens.
"Already know what?" Kofuku asks innocently.
"It's nothing important," Hiyori tells her hastily. "Well, I just stopped by to check on Yukine-kun's homework and assign him new stuff, but since he's no longer here, I'm going to go as well. I have a lot of studying to do as we have a huge test coming up."
"Bye, Hiyori~!"
"Come back when that test is over," says Daikoku.
"Will do." Hiyori jumps to her feet, tries to shake the nervous energy out. Then she heads home.
…
It's nine o' clock and no sign of Yato. The hot water of the bath feels nice as it always does. The perfect way to relax before bed. And as has become routine since she began writing Yato's name on her body, she stares at the Sharpie tattoo she has created. It is in the same place it has been all winter, on the inside of her right ankle. It's beginning to fade. She'll have to fix that. What Yukine said earlier floats up in her mind – Yato had been fondling her shrine as he fell asleep. The shrine she had made. She thinks about what Kofuku said, her body being a shrine. But what does that even mean? So far, it hasn't seemed to change anything. Would Yato be able to use her to travel to Takamagahara? She smiles wryly at the thought.
The smile quickly dissolves into a frown. Yato is bound to find out eventually, if she keeps doing it. How is she going to explain? She'd die of embarrassment. Yet at the same time, if Kofuku is right about the shrine thing, then wouldn't removing it be like erasing one of Yato's shrines – an insult to his very name as a deity?
She sighs, sinking into the bathwater, the surface tickling her chin. She doesn't want to have to think about any of this, but she realizes it's necessary. Yato will find out. But what is she supposed to say now or in the future? She doesn't even want to imagine how the conversation will go. It is equally likely he will be humbled or have it all go to his head. The reason is simple enough. It isn't that she doesn't know why she writes his name. Because she never wants to forget again, because she's in love with him. It's that last part she fears. She is afraid of what will happen if she says it out loud. Surely nothing bad. She doesn't fear rejection. She knows he will mirror her love, but it's just so embarrassing and is it really okay for a human and a god to be together?
Another sigh. Hiyori rubs the ink with the pad of her big toe. It is more of a smudge at this point. She'll have to fix it soon.
When Hiyori gets out of the bath, she makes her third attempt that evening to concentrate. She makes a point of being very organized. You have to be when you skip out on a significant percentage of class to visit your friends from the Far Shore. Except, Yato is more than a friend now, isn't he... Her face grows warm, recalling the softness of his lips on hers. She thinks if he were here now there is no way she could get anything done, and then she kicks herself when she remembers that he's not here and she's still not getting anything done. She's been rereading the same paragraph in her textbook for the past half hour – reaching the end only to realize that she has absorbed none of its contents, forcing her to read it again. And again. She is beginning to genuinely worry if she'll be able to pass this test.
She closes the book with a groan, her head turning towards her window half-expecting and half-hoping she'll see Yato perched on her windowsill. He's not there. Her eyes flick towards the marker in her pencil cup. It's too risky to rewrite his name now, he could show up at any moment. She goes back to watching the window, willing Yato to come and as if responding to her prayer his head pokes through. A relieved grin turning up the corners of his mouth.
"Good," he says a bit breathlessly. "You're still awake."
"Yeah. How did your job go?"
"Another satisfied customer," he beams.
"That's good." Hiyori stands up.
He's sitting on her sill, with one leg dangling inside her room, poised for entry. But he just sits there, regarding her with a shy smile. It takes her an awkward moment of silence to realize that for once he is waiting for her invitation.
Hiyori rubs her arms up and down, not looking at him. "You can come in."
And he leaps to her, landing with a cat's grace just in front of her. He takes his index finger, touches it gently to the corner of her jaw, traces its outline. Hiyori leans her face into his gentle touch, a smile tugging at her lips. His finger curls gently beneath her chin, lifting, drawing her onto her tiptoes. Her eyes flutter closed in anticipation as he bends forward to meet her.
When his lips touch hers it's as if the ground beneath her has crumbled into stardust. She stumbles into him, throws her arms around his neck for balance. He catches her with an arm around her waist and a hunger stirs within her, his warmth radiating through her pyjamas, rippling across her skin. A static that clutches their bodies close together. His whole hand cups her face now, a trembling mess. Hiyori loses herself to the kiss, her senses blocking out anything that isn't Yato.
Yato pulls away, resting his head against hers for moment, catching his breath.
"I've been waiting to do that all day," he breathes.
"Me too," a breathless laugh escaping Hiyori's throat.
He draws back a little further to admire her face, and Hiyori imagines her expression looks an awful lot like his. His eyes are half-lidded, flashing something primal beneath absolute adoration.
"Daikoku told me you have a big test coming up," says Yato.
"I do." Hiyori grimaces. "I can't afford many distractions, unfortunately."
"Can I still see you?"
"You can. As long as you don't distract me too much."
"I'm not distracting you too much right now, am I?"
"Not yet." Hiyori smiles and reels him in for another kiss.
...
Hiyori is a bit surprised by how affectionate Yato is. She realizes that she shouldn't be, but she still is. Probably because she's not used to having so much physical attention on her. And of course, he picks the night before her exam to be especially affectionate.
She's reclining on her side on her bed, propped up by an elbow, trying to re-read her notes. Yato slips an arm around her, and pulls himself flush against her. Heat blossoms in Hiyori's cheeks and she tries not to go rigid. He presses a series of soft kisses along her neck. The warmth of his lips lingering and alive on her skin. It is very distracting, to say the least.
"Yato," she says, inhaling sharply.
He hums a question against her skin.
"You're making it hard to concentrate," she tells him.
"I'm sorry," Yato mumbles, as he releases her from his embrace and sits up. "I just... wanted to be close you."
"Um, you can be close but maybe not that close," she says.
There's a long pause, and then the gentle pull of Yato's fingers combing through her hair.
"Yato, what are you doing?"
"I'm going to braid your hair."
"Um."
"For good luck. Is... that not okay?"
"No, it's fine. I guess I just wasn't expecting it."
They fall back into a comfortable silence as the gentle pressure of Yato's hands eases away some of her anxieties about tomorrow's test. It's nice. He leaves when he's done, letting her sleep. The room is cold without him there. Once this stupid exam is past, Hiyori wants to ask him if he'll stay over again if she can ever gather the courage.
...
The exam is difficult, but every time she touches her braid, she thinks of Yato and the answers become a little clearer.
"We're free!" Yama cries as she bursts through the school gates. "That test was hell. This calls for a celebration. Karaoke tonight?"
Ami laughs at her antics. "I would, but I promised my mom I'd help it her out with something so tonight is a no-go for me. I can do Saturday."
"Saturday works for me too," Hiyori agrees.
"All right! Saturday it is!" Yama shouts.
When Hiyori gets home she's a little surprised to find that Yato isn't already waiting for her in her bedroom. He must be out doing odd jobs or slaying ayakashi. She takes an early bath to relieve the residual tension. She feels a little sad taking out the braid, but she has to wash her hair.
He visits her in the evening, catching her off guard. It's very late – close to midnight – but there's no school tomorrow so she's not worried about staying up too late. She's sitting in her desk chair in her pyjamas, her ankle folded over her knee. She's putting the finishing touches on his name, tattooed in Sharpie on her ankle. Satisfied, she clicks the cap back on the pen and deposits it in her pencil cup. He knocks on her window just as she is blowing on the ink for it to dry. She jumps in her seat and scrambles to stuff her foot in her sock before going to open the window. In the back of her mind, she worries if it's smudged.
"Hey, Hiyori," Yato greets her as he enters her room. "Something wrong with your foot?"
"Huh?"
"You were kind of staring at it intently."
"I just have a bruise there," Hiyori answers quickly. "I was wondering how it got there."
"Does it hurt? Do you want me to look at it?"
"N-no! It doesn't hurt! I just noticed it when I changed my socks and was surprised. That's all."
"Well, I'm glad it doesn't hurt."
"Me too..." She trails off as Yato steps right in front of her.
His fingers trace the shell of her ear as he tucks some loose strands behind it.
"You're beautiful," he says.
Hiyori can feel the color of her cheeks changing. She is unsure how to respond to that. "Thanks. So are you," she replies quietly.
He bends forward and tilts her head up with his knuckles beneath her chin.
She shudders into the kiss, frantically matching the movements of his lips with her own. She feels his tongue run along her lower lip and flits hers eagerly against his and she nearly loses it. He tastes even better than he smells. She savors it, draws his tongue into her mouth, gives it a gentle suck and oh the noise he makes has her knees shaking. She breathes heavily through her nose, desperate to maintain contact. Her nose is assailed by Yato's sweet scent and her heart sets a drum beat in her ears and she can hear nothing else.
Hiyori clutches at him, crushing herself against him, trying to fuse into one perfect being. Yato loses his balance, fumbling backwards a step. He catches her before she follows after him, holding her by the shoulders at arm's length. His face is on fire, surprise in the arc of his eyebrows. She isn't sure what she expected to see on Yato's face, but his expression sobers her. He gazes at her, his pupils wide, panting. The magic of the moment begins to dissolve as she understands the desire that has overcome her – that she'd been too exhausted to feel before. Yato clears his throat and the moment fractures like a bullet hitting glass.
Hiyori backs out of his reach, leaving his hands to hover in the air. He wipes at his tracksuit, drying his hands. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flitting between Hiyori and the floor. Hiyori rubs her shoulder, fixating on Yato's boots.
She's not entirely sure why they stopped – why he stopped. She hadn't wanted to, but now that they had, she is disoriented and paralyzed by self-consciousness. She wants to feel that magic again, it plucks at her heart like she's a marionette whose strings are not attached and can't act on the commands her heart is giving. Her arms fall limply to her sides. She wants to ask why, but she fears the answer.
So instead she blurts out "Did you want to stay over tonight?"
"S-sure," Yato blinks his surprise at her. "If you want me to."
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." Hiyori walks over to her bed and crawls beneath the covers. "It's already really late..."
Yato nods dumbly, and climbs into bed after her. He switches off the light at her bedside and sidles up against her. Her puts his arm around her and hugs her back to his chest. She laces her fingers through his and pulls his arm around her as she rolls over, hugging his chest to her back.
Hiyori's melts beneath the kisses he plants on her neck. A smile crawls across her lips, leaning into him, pressing her back into his chest. Her hips shift back a little, brushing against his pelvis. Her breath hitches as Yato places a warm hand on her hip and gently moves her forward again. And then she realizes. The dilated pupils, the breathing, keeping her from pressing against his pelvis. She sucks in a sharp breath, hangs on to it. It's as if with this new knowledge, everything has changed somehow. She rolls around to face him. He releases her from his embrace, arm flying high above his head like it did that morning and he just holds it there. She can't make out his face, he's just a dark shape. She has no plan even now that she's facing him. There's something all twisted in her chest, a confusion. In the darkness, none of this feels entirely real. She doesn't know how to make it real, she only knows that she wants it to be. She wants to say something but no words come to mind.
"Hiyori?" Yato drops his arm, and uses his elbow to prop himself up. He examines her face. She realizes she's been quiet for a while now.
"I'm not keeping you up by being here, am I?" he asks. "Should I go?"
Hiyori's arms circle around his neck and she raises herself to meet him.
"Stay," she whispers against his lips, pulling him back down to the bed with her.
She holds him tightly, as close as she can, to feel as much of him as possible. He makes a surprised noise as he goes down, his lips locked against hers. He hovers over her for a moment, but her kisses are needy, teasing, tasting, and he settles on top of her, eager to provide. In her greed for him, Hiyori's movements are sloppy, her hands wandering aimlessly over his body. And there's something intrinsically sensual about seeking out his tongue with hers, connecting deeper than just the surface of their bodies.
Yato pulls back to kiss her pulse, her own whimper surprising her. He sucks at the sensitive flesh, and a ribbon of pleasure coils between her legs, she writhes beneath him, pressing up, up and into him. She kisses his forehead, his temple, anywhere she can reach. He lifts his face and she catches his earlobe, suckles and nibbles and he lets out an unsuppressed moan that shrivels into a pleasurable whimper and god that's hot, and she wants to hear more. She grazes her teeth a long the shell of his ear, up and then down.
"Yato," she whispers against his ear like a promise, reverent, before curling her tongue against his earlobe, sucking it back into her mouth. He lets out another moan and she smiles with sadistic fondness.
"H-hiyori," he moans, there's a hint of a question in his tone. As if he has as much trouble believing this is true as she does.
She loves him. She loves him more than she had ever thought it possible to love another person. No, not just any person. He is a god. Her god. Her god of fortune. His only shrine was hers, he'd told her that hers would always be his number one as if it were a matter of course. Of course she'd be his number one. And in that instant she realizes that he's loved her for a very long time, long before she had any idea that she loved him back. His number one believer. She's tattooed his name on her body, her body a shrine. For a god. For her god. She releases his earlobe.
"Yato," she says his name again, her mouth still next to his ear, her voice cloaked in reverence. She lingers, presses a soft kiss to his temple, and in a tiny tentative voice adds, "-sama."
Yato freezes completely and makes a noise like he's choking on air. He lifts his face to explore her eyes in the faint moonlight. She feels suddenly self-conscious – as if none of what she has done so far has come as close to the embarrassment of addressing him with that honorific. It had felt like the right thing to say, but maybe it was wrong somehow.
His eyes are wide and his voice cracks like static. "What did you just say?" His fingers grip her sleeves tightly. His chest heaves against hers with the effort to breathe. His body begins to shake.
The was a sliver of hopefulness in there, she's sure of it. She doesn't know where all her boldness tonight is coming from, but it doesn't fail her here. She cups his face in both hands, her expression soft. She waits until he's looking into her eyes before she repeats herself.
"Yatogami-sama." She kisses his trembling lips. "My god of fortune," she whispers.
His whole body trembles, his erection twitches against her, and his lips come crashing down on hers and then he's kissing every inch of her face, repeating her name over and over like a broken record. She strokes his head, running her fingers through his hair. He nuzzles her, and she feels a wetness on his cheek. She touches it with her hand and he goes silent.
His grip on her pyjamas loosens. He rubs up and down her arm. He laughs, and it sounds almost like a sob.
"This is backwards," he says.
"What do you mean?"
He sighs. "I'm a god. I'm supposed to make your dreams come true. Not... not-" He kisses her lips so softly she almost doesn't feel it.
He swallows. There's that broken laugh again. "Not the other way around," he finishes so quietly she almost doesn't hear him. He punctuates the last word with a kiss and there's so much love behind it she can feel herself melting from it.
"Your dreams?" she echoes, her fingers tracing the curvature of his face.
"My very own shrine," he catches her hand and kisses her fingertips, "you haven't forgotten me," he kisses her lips, "you haven't given up on me," the edge of her jaw, "you believe in me," the tip of her nose, "you called me 'Yato-sama,'" he laughs and kisses her lips again. "Hiyori, you..." he swallows, hesitates, "make me very happy."
Hiyori giggles gently, pressing her forehead against his. "You make me happy too."
One of his arms is looped around her, his hand tracing warm, shapeless patterns onto her lower back. His other hand stills to pull her flush against him and he captures her in a kiss that reignites the lust that pulsed through Hiyori's veins and shook every fiber of her with need. She lets out an uncensored moan, slides her tongue along the seam of his mouth.
She circles her legs around his waist, forcing his pelvis against hers. A strangled moan erupts from his lips, as his erection comes to rest fully between her legs, joined by her own cry as she becomes fully aware of her own arousal. The the fabric of her bottoms, damp from her own lubrication, is pressed against her. The tip of his cock rests just shy of her clit, and without a thought to it, she wriggles against him, seeking to correct this horrible misalignment. She can feel his cock twitch from the friction.
He trembles, grabs her thighs and disentangles himself. The air is cold and cruel between her legs.
"Is something wrong?"
He laughs, shaky and thin. "I don't think you know what you do to me."
"I don't understand."
"Exactly." He kisses her forehead. "Maybe we can talk about it another time, but for right now, I don't want to rush things. I want this be perfect."
"It already is." She brushes his bangs out of his eyes, cups his cheek in her hand. The words come more naturally than she expected them to. "I love you."
Yato falls completely silent for a long while. Hiyori feels tears damming up behind her thumb.
"Are you-"
"Hiyori," he cuts her off, his entire body shaking. He takes her face in his trembling hands, brings himself close – she can feel his breath on her cheeks when he speaks. "Do you really mean that?" His voice is like broken glass.
"I do."
He rests his forehead against hers. "I love you too."
She snakes her arms around him again, holding him tight, close to her heart.
"No one's ever..." He burrows his face into shoulder, leaving the sentence hanging. His fingers grip the back of her pyjama top.
She doesn't know what to say or do, so she just holds him. He stays like that, half-sobbing, until his breaths finally slow after several long minutes.
Hiyori kisses the top of his head and closes her eyes, gently carding her fingers through his hair until she too finally falls asleep.
…
"Yama-chan?" she probes, her fingernail picking at the corner of a page in the song book, where the lamination had begun to split. They're at karaoke, but she's not really in the mood to sing.
"Mm? Having trouble picking a song?"
"No, that's not it..." Hiyori's cheeks redden as she tries to speak the question she's practiced asking all this morning in her head.
"Oh my god," Ami puts a hand over her mouth. "There is someone isn't there?"
Yama's face lights up. "You need help asking him out? I owe you, anyway."
Hiyori waves her hand in front of her. "No, no. I don't need help asking him out-"
"So you two are already together?" Ami exclaims.
Yama grabs Hiyori by shoulders and shakes her. "How long have you had a boyfriend without telling us? How long, Hiyori!"
"It's only been a week," Hiyori squeaks.
Yama stops the shaking but doesn't release her. She regards Hiyori through narrowed slits for eyes. "Could be worse, I suppose. Who is he?"
"You don't know him."
"Then you'll just have to introduce us," says Ami.
"Ah, yeah." Hiyori forces a laugh. Would they even remember if they met him? Probably not.
Yama finally lets go. "Anyway, you had a question?"
"Yeah..."
"Well?"
"Yama-chan, you have a boyfriend..." Hiyori trails off, unable to complete her thought.
Yama blinks at her. Following a long pause she says, "That is not a question."
Hiyori clears her throat, forcing the words out. "Have you two been... intimate?"
"Oh my." Ami covers her mouth again. "Hiyori, have you two already-"
"No!" Hiyori screeches. She shrinks back at her own reaction. She takes a deep breath before continuing: "I was just wondering how long Yama-chan has waited. I mean, what's normal?"
"He didn't try to force himself on you, did he?" Ami hisses.
Hiyori whips her head back in forth in favor of yelling again.
"Good," Ami says. Both she and Yama look relieved.
"So then what has you asking?" says Yama.
"Are you going to answer my question or not?" Hiyori huffs.
"Right, sorry," Yama chuckles. "Yes, to answer your question: we waited three... no, four months."
"Before...?" Hiyori's eyes widen. She leans forward. She needs to hear Yama say it without any ambiguity.
"Before having sex."
Hiyori swallows hard.
"But seriously, why do you ask?"
Hiyori looks away. Tries not to think about how ready she'd been to rip her own clothes off the night before.
"Because you want to?" Yama ventures.
Hiyori buries her face in her hands.
"Bulls eye." She can hear the smirk in Ami's voice.
Hiyori groans, peering at her friends through the gaps between her fingers.
"You've only been together two days," Ami points out, cocking her head to the side.
"Yes, but I've known him – we've been friends for a lot longer."
"I see." Ami nods sagely. "That changes everything."
"It does?"
Yama shrugs.
"Listen, Hiyori." Yama grabs Hiyori's wrists and lowers her hands to her lap. "A girl's allowed to have a sex life. If you're sure this is something you want – something you both want, then there is no wrong time do it. Even if you'd just met the guy."
"She's right," Ami chimes in.
"I don't know if it's something he wants to do..." Hiyori trails off.
Ami tilts her head to the side. "What do you mean? Have you talked about it?"
The prospect of having a conversation about it with Yato makes her a little lightheaded.
"No," Hiyori replies. "It's just he seems like he wants to, but he hasn't made a move."
"So either he doesn't actually want to, or he does but he's afraid to take advantage of you," says Yama.
"He did say something about not wanting to rush..."
Ami folds her arms over her chest and shrugs. "Some guys are like that. They're afraid of making the wrong move or hurting you, so they end up not doing anything."
"He could be one of those." Yama nods. "But if he said he didn't want to rush, he may not be ready.
"How am I supposed know to whether he's just trying to protect me or if he isn't ready?"
"You could always talk to him about it," Ami suggests.
"Nononono!" Hiyori waves both arms crossing and uncrossing them like she's warding off evil. "That's – that's way to embarrassing."
Yama chuckles. "Not everyone can be as direct as you, Ami."
"True," Ami concedes tossing her hands up in the air. "Some of us have to have our friends play match maker."
"Sh-shut it!" Yama sputters. She turns to Hiyori. "Or you could do what I did, which is drop a hint so big it is literally impossible to miss."
"What did you do?"
"One time when were making out in his room, I just started taking my own clothes off one article at a time. He followed suit and the rest is history."
"That is a pretty big hint." Hiyori marvels Yama's forwardness. She's doesn't think she can mirror that kind of courage.
"I'm sure you'll think of something." Ami gives her arm a squeeze.
Hiyori has her doubts. "What if he doesn't get the hint? Or doesn't take it?"
"Then I guess you'll just have to talk about it." Yama punches her shoulder lightly.
...
"So how's your foot today?" Yato asks the next day.
They're sitting across from each other on her bed, both pretzel-legged.
"After karaoke Yama and Ami wanted to walk around so we spent the better part of the afternoon wandering the streets of Tokyo. So they're a bit sore, but otherwise good."
"Shall I give you a foot massage?" Yato makes grabby hands at her.
"I don't know, are you going to charge me 5 yen?"
Yato chuckles. "This one's on the house."
"In that case, how can I refuse such a generous offer?" Hiyori leans back against her pillows at the head of her bed, and straightens her legs. She adjusts the skirt of her dress a little.
Yato takes her foot and pull it into his lap. He works his thumbs in circles, seeming to know exactly where to apply pressure. Finding a knot, he presses into it. A contented sigh passes Hiyori's lips. She relaxes deeper into the mountain of pillows, sliding towards him – an idea sprouting in her head. Her knees bend, her skirt begins to fall up her thighs. Yato's eyes go wide and his face crimson.
She doesn't have the courage to use words. But the thrill of Yato looking at her like that outweighs her embarrassment. She tries to tell him between fluttering lashes. Her shy smile, bottom lip between her teeth. She wants to tell him he is free to look without ever having the words leave her mouth. She spreads her legs a little wider. Shaking fingers curl around the hem of her skirt, drawing it up even higher as she gathers more fabric into her fist. This is it, Yato, she thinks. This is my big hint. And it backfires miserably.
"H-how's your bruise?" Yato blurts out, yanking her sock off in one fluid, excruciating movement.
And then panic stills Hiyori's breath, her jaw chewing on words that are stuck between her teeth and won't come out.
"Is this... my name?" Yato's voice thin. His finger is straight like an arrow, poised just above the mark on her ankle. She can just feel his fingernail lightly hovering against the smooth lines of his name, painted on her skin.
He pulls her stocking the rest of the way off. He slowly removes her other sock to compare. It's bare.
"Hiyori," he murmurs a tiny question on the tail end of her name. "When you said you had ways to make sure you never forgot again, was this – is this one of them?"
He traces the characters with the crescent of his nail, leaving a thin wake of little pins and needles. He doesn't look at her, can't. His eyes are glued to her foot. Hiyori watches him carefully, stiffly. The warm exhilaration from before has given way chilled anxiety.
They're quiet for a long time before Hiyori grinds out a "Yeah."
Yato's eyes are stretched as wide as they go, collecting moisture at the edges. His mouth is slightly agape in... awe?
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Hiyori mumbles, somewhat indignant, all her words running together. It's a miracle Yato understands her. Her cheeks color.
"And it's not a good idea anymore?"
Seeing the expression he wears drives a stake through her chest.
"N-no!" Hiyori is quick to reply. "I mean, I keep writing your name so..."
"It's not permanent?"
Hiyori begins to relax a little, taking deep breaths. She can do this. She has already said she loves him and this is just saying it again but in a different way, she tells herself.
"W-well, I kind of didn't want anyone to see it, and having a permanent tattoo might make that a bit difficult," Hiyori fumbles. She is afraid telling him she just doesn't want his name permanently emblazoned on her person might be taken the wrong way. "Tattoos aren't exactly looked on fondly in Japan."
"That's true... But. Do you know..." he begins, trailing off.
What that means? Hiyori finishes in her head.
"Kofuku-san told me." She has to swallow a lump before she can continue. Hiyori is staring at her foot now too. She closes her legs and fixes her skirt. "She said that it was like turning my body into a shrine – that... That it was like giving you a home...with me. And I probably should have been too embarrassed to keep writing your name, but I want you to have a home with me. Because you do. Because I love you, Yato."
His mouth moves around the syllables of her name but no sound comes out. The tears that had been welling begin to spill over one at a time. And suddenly he seems so far away. She scooches closer, slips her arms around his middle and buries her head in his shoulder. Yato touches the back of her head with his hand, gently toying with her hair. His touch is so delicate it's like he's afraid he might break her. Then as if he finally realized she's not a porcelain doll, he circles his other arm around her and crushes her against him. He shudders into the embrace.
"Thank you," he lets out, his voice like fractured glass.
Hiyori doesn't know what to say to this. She strokes his back and places a soft kiss to his temple. She says it again, "I love you."
"I love you too, Hiyori," he breathes, the words floating along a current of relief.
She gives him a gentle pat, hiccuping a tiny pleased laugh as she does so. "I know."
He pulls back to regard her face, and she can see the shimmering trails on his cheeks left by his tears.
"Hiyori, may I kiss you?"
Her lips ease into a smile. "You don't have to ask."
He kisses her then, warm and tender. Hiyori wills all the warmth and all the love she has for him into this one kiss, this one embrace, and she finds herself shivering, unable to contain sheer power of it. Her own body is electrified by Yato's love for her. It washes across the shore of her consciousness, smoothing away all other thoughts. Right now there is only Yato. His sweet taste on her tongue. The soft caress of his hand on her cheek. And just like that the fire is ignited yet again. Warmth floods her limbs, flowing through every fiber of her being. All because of Yato.
Hiyori breaks away and leans back. With two fistfuls of his jersey jacket, she pulls Yato down onto the bed with her. He follows her, quick to capture her lips again. She uses one hand to press his chest away from her while the other gropes for his zipper. She tugs at it once, twice, and then she's freeing him of his jacket. He undoes his scarf. She plants her hands on him, frustration curling her fingers into fistfuls of his T-shirt. She yanks it free from where it's tucked in his track pants. He helps himself out of it, and the moment he's free of it, before he's even tossed it aside, Hiyori's hands are on him, exploring the surface of his skin.
Yato's eyes flutter closed as a sigh passes his lips. It's as if the warmth radiating off him is passing through her arms to her very core. When his eyes open again, they flicker nervously from between her eyes and her chest. His fingers toy with the first of the two buttons on her sweater, his face an open question. Hiyori answers by undoing them both and shrugging off her sweater. Then she gets straight to work on the buttons of the bodice of her dress, one by one, starting from the top. Yato has stopped watching her face, riveted by the progress of her hands. His own cheeks turning redder and redder. She smiles coyly, undoing the last one and pulling her dress over her head to toss it on the floor.
Yato gapes at Hiyori, at the simple lace design on her bra. He searches her expression. All she has for him is a smile.
"Hiyori," he rasps. "This is... are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she says. "I've been sure from the moment I first kissed you. I want... to give you my everything."
" 'Everything'?" he echoes, his eyes widening.
She presses her index finger against his sternum. She lightly traces the outline of his muscles, the lines and curves of her beloved. She dips a teasing finger into his belly button, beneath his waistband.
"Everything," she repeats.
Yato echoes her again, this time only a murmur. His fingers track up her sides. He pauses at the band of her bra, follows it as it wraps around her back. He fumbles with the hooks for several seconds. The instant her breasts are free, her breath catches, and her nipples harden in anticipation.
"You're beautiful," he breathes, straddling her hips beneath him.
Hiyori flushes harder at this. "You're not bad yourself."
Yato chuckles fondly. He runs his fingertips over the peak of her breast, and a soft gasp escapes Hiyori. She arches into his touch. He leans forward to kiss her again. Hiyori eagerly teases his lower lip with her tongue, his mouth opens slightly. She releases a tiny moan when she touches the tip of his tongue with hers. Yato cups her breasts, flexing his fingers gently. A spark of pleasure shoots through her, sizzling between her legs as he pinches her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She writhes beneath him, hips bucking for friction but finding none, she whimpers into his mouth. She can feel the damn smug grin crawling across his lips.
"Y-yato!" His name is a breathy plea, breaking the kiss.
She bites her lip, her eyes falling to where to where he's straddling her. His track pants are loose, but the shape of his erection his unmistakable through the dark fabric. She rests her hand on his thigh. Her thumb twirl circles on the inside of his leg, just below... She searches his face.
She swallows hard, her request hoarse, "M-may I... touch you...?"
"Ah, um, yeah," Yato shifts a little, glancing away from her and back. "You don't to have if you d-don't want to..." he trails off, his hands leave her chest.
"I want to." She looks at him shyly.
He gapes at her like he is having difficulty processing what she just said.
"If you want – and only if you want to – you are free to touch me..."
"Like this?"
"Ah."
Hiyori's fingers find the tip of his penis through his pants, stretching them out to stroke the rest of the head.
"Yes," he hisses. "Please, keep touching me."
She explores the shape of his erection through his pants. He presses into her hand, his eyes slip shut and a series of groans rumble within his throat. She listens to the noises he makes, her own arousal and curiosity piqued further with each new utterance of his pleasure.
Yato swings one leg over so he's no longer straddling her and settles at her side. He bows forward and cups her chin, kissing her softly. Hiyori hooks her arm around him, pulling him close. Her breasts flattening against his chest. The skin on skin contact awakens another pulse of pleasure in her loins. She shimmies out of her panties, then wrestles Yato free of his pants and boxers.
His cock bobs free and she runs her fingertips along the inside of his bare thigh, up the length of his cock, her touch featherlight. Yato shivers, planting a languid kiss to her neck. His cock twitches greedily in her hand.
"Hiyori," he breathes.
"Mm?" she massages the head of his cock with her fingertips, relishing the subtle way his hips jerk into her touch.
Her breath catches as his hand strokes its way along her thigh, beneath the curve of her ass.
"May I touch you too?"
Hiyori nods. "Y-yeah."
Yato's splays his fingers out, runs them down over her stomach, downwards, through the thick patch of curls between her legs. One of his fingers happens over her clit, a moan erupts form her throat, turning into a whimper as Yato's finger, now become slick in her own juices, slides over her entrance.
"May I, uh," Yato's whole face is flushed, "kiss you here too?"
Hiyori nods quickly, silently. His hand still hovering around her nether regions, he scoots down, and positions his face between her legs. He kisses the inside of her leg. He presses his lips to her clit softly. A trembling gasp shakes her body, Yato's name erupting from her when he touches her with his tongue, draws the small bundle of nerves into his mouth.
He sucks that ribbon of pleasure down between her thighs. It curls, spirals down the walls of her vagina, but the space is empty. It grows taught around air, amplifying the void she feels inside her.
"W-wait," Hiyori manages. She shivers. His saliva is quick to cool against her when he lifts his head up to look at her. "I want you inside me."
Yato tests her entrance with his finger. It slides in with relative ease. He wiggles it around a little.
"I want that too, but I don't think you're ready," he says quietly.
"I am." Her voice is firm. "I want this."
"No, I mean, you're too tight."
"Huh?"
"I wouldn't fit."
"Oh." Hiyori chews on her lip. If her face wasn't already as red as it gets, it is now. "That's okay. Yama said it would hurt the first time. I'm prepared.
"W-what?" she asks in response to his horrified expression. He almost looks pained.
He sits up. "I don't want to hurt you."
"But isn't that normal? The first time?"
"I wouldn't know... but I don't think it has to," says Yato, his brow determined.
"You've never done this before?"
Yato glances away. "...You're my first."
Hiyori sits up as well. "You're mine too. We'll figure this out together. I don't mind if it hurts a little."
He shakes his head vigorously. "I'm not going to hurt you. We don't have to rush this. We can work our way up to it. If not this time, then next time. I want you to feel good, Hiyori."
His words are like a balm that warms her whole body and soul. Why does he have to be so damn sweet. It's too much.
She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips. "Okay. Thank you for thinking of me."
"Always." The relief that settles over his shoulders is palpable and she has to chuckle at it.
Yato reaches for the back of her neck, pulling her lips back to his, and then he slowly guides her back down. He lays down beside her.
Hiyori rolls into him, feeling his bare skin on her own. She explores his profile with her hand, the inside of his thigh. His member is firm in her hand, and the noises her touch illicits entices her to touch him more. She feels his finger return to her entrance, gently tracing circles around the edge, probing inside with just his fingertip. The space around his finger is cool and punishing. She shivers.
She's impatient. She gives his cock a squeeze, fisting his erection up and down. His hips quiver into the rhythm of her hand.
Yato sucks her bottom lip between his teeth and slides a second finger inside her, curling it against her walls. A moan reverberates from her very core She flexes her fingers helplessly around his member, all ability to think evaporated. She writhes into him as he develops a rhythm, mapping her walls with his fingers.
The fog of pleasure dissipates slightly, Hiyori resumes her ministrations. He shudders and withdraws, his fingers to loosely curl them around her wrist. She can feel their slickness from her juices.
"I appreciate the gesture, but if I come now, it's all over," he says. "Just being with you like this is..."
"I can relate," Hiyori says with a breathy chuckle.
She releases him and tangles her fingers in his hair, pulling him in for more kisses. He slips his fingers back inside her.
"Does it hurt?" he asks when he has three fingers inside her.
"No," she breathes. "It feels good."
"Good. You should top. You'll have more control that way if it's uncomfortable."
Hiyori's pulse is thunder in her ears. Finally. She pushes him onto his back and swings her leg over, so she's straddling him. She runs her fingertips up the underside of his cock, in awe of him, of where they are. It twitches impatiently, and a shy smile pulls at the corner of her mouth.
"I love you," says Yato.
"I love you too."
Her hand closes around him, guides him to her entrance. Then intending to treat it like ripping off a band-aid, Hiyori slides down onto him in one fluid movement. She gasps. Yama had warned her how much it would hurt. She could not have been more wrong.
"How are you? Are you okay?" Yato asks.
"It feels amazing," she says, meeting his gaze, a grin breaking across her face.
His pupils are wide, and the blue in his irises seems to shimmer. You're so damn beautiful it isn't fair.
"If you ask me, you're the beautiful one," he replies, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.
She slaps her hands over her mouth. Crap. She said that out loud.
He laughs from his belly, his body shakes. His cock pulses inside her. She feels full like this. She feels whole. Her body is his shrine and he belongs inside her. Just from that tiny bit of movement, she can feel the ribbon of pleasure from before swirling down again, lining her walls, coiling around Yato's member inside her.
"You can move," she tells him, breathlessly.
"Are you sure? If you need more time to adjust-"
"Yato," Hiyori cuts him off, her eyes plead with him. "Please."
He swallows. He slowly rocks his hips into her. She meets him, pushing her hips down onto him. He strikes a cord within her, plucking a moan from her.
"Faster."
"Fuck, Hiyori," Yato groans as he obliges.
Their rhythm is far from perfection, but with each thrust that Yato buries himself to the hilt, that ribbon grows increasingly taught. She feels it fraying, pulsing through her and around Yato's cock. She grinds herself onto him, harder – trying to reach that fullness again and again. Until the ribbon snaps, and splinters, delivering ecstasy to her every nerve. She cries out, his name a prayer spilling from her lips.
The lingering threads undulate as Yato continues to thrust into her, sending shallow ripples across the surface of her skin. Her thighs tingle where his hands still grip her, her nerves on high alert. Her body singing the bridge to another orgasm as Yato continues to fuck her. He says her name. Captures her gaze as he spills his warm seed inside her, moving beneath her until the pleasure is too much and his eyes flutter closed.
They both slow to a halt, stay there unmoving but for their heaving chests as they labor for air. Hiyori becomes vaguely aware of the sweat-slick strands of her hair sticking to her skin. She doesn't care. She smiles at Yato. He smiles back. She leans forward, kisses him softly, before easing herself off him, his already softening cock falling out of her.
She collapses in an exhausted heap beside him. He immediately rolls onto his side and puts an arm around her, pulling her close for a kiss.
"I love you," he says between feather-light kisses, his words gently bumping against her lips.
"I love you too." She wipes his fringe – plastered to his forehead – away from his eyes. "Always."
"So how was it?" Yato asks, unable to completely hide his concern. "It didn't hurt, did it?"
"Not one bit." Hiyori gives him a peck on the nose.
He gives her a relieved smile. "I'm glad."
"Actually, Yato..."
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you'd maybe... want to spend the night tonight?"
He chuckles breathlessly. "Such a generous offer, how could I possible refuse?"