A/N: To my readers who wanted Jack's and Kim's first time to be as themselves. You can skip this chapter. Think of this as strictly Yoshimi and Mariko. As a follow-up to that, the language is a bit weird because they are from 200 years ago, upper-class Japanese. So, the bedroom stuff is whatever I ended up writing. I cannot tell how much I wrestled with this. I avoided 'heaving bosoms,' but an 'ardent' or two might have made it in.

Yoshimi took Mariko's hand and they followed the priest to the rooms that were overlooking the garden. They passed a group of monks and he thought he saw the two meddling boys in the crowd. No matter... It all would stop being a problem soon enough. Everything was moving slowly for him and her little steps, endearing because she was so little, were almost too much and he wanted to just scoop her into his arms and run. They reached the room and the priest left them with a bow, not making any eye contact.

Once alone, Mariko shied away from his touch, blushing like a new bride should. So endearing. Her innocence practically radiated from her and he took some pleasure in stalking her about the room, his movements making her step back from him until she hit the wall with her back.

He continued his liquid slink until he was mere inches from her. Then he stopped.

This close to her again he could smell her scent unpolluted by the incense of the shrine and sake vapors. She was intoxicating. He stood there just breathing, enjoying this moment. He could see her gulping air and her transfixed stare as she looked at his chest.

In one move he took off the shirt (one this century figured out was the easy wardrobe) and slowly, luxuriating in her heated stare, stretched his torso, muscles rippling and he leaned forward. "Look at me," he breathed over her hair and it moved with his words.

He saw her breathing hitch again and she slowly lifted her eyes from wherever she was staring (he felt her gaze as it left the hot trail on him) and finally looked at him.

Even with her face set in this mix of longing and apprehension, her lips were parted and curling at the ends. It made her look kissable. He was mesmerized.

Her dark piercing gaze darted between his eyes for a moment and then slowly trailed down his face, sweeping over every millimeter as if taking an immaculate inventory. He could hear his breath snag and unravel. Just like hers.

The tension was unbearable. She made a little inadvertent inhale in her throat that tore a corresponding noise from him, signalling the all-consuming and choking desire that bubbled up over his body, viscous and burning like the ever present need for violence.

Eyes locked with hers, his lips parted, "Don't move," his words were merely a breath in the back of his throat. And with that he lifted his hands to her elaborate kimono.

Slowly. Agonizingly slowly he searched for the fastening of the obi* belt and when he did, he only had to tug it once for it to come undone.

She shivered.

Then came the outer layer of kimono, already loosened without the belt and only the slightest pull on the sleeves made it fall around her feet like the cheery blossoms that fall on the ground after the rain.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and slowly and he had a fleeting thought that she might be indeed unwell.

But she opened her eyes, dark and mesmerizing, and he saw acceptance in them, even as her breathing sped up almost into hyperventilation.

He was watching her - always watching her - and this close he could see the rapid rhythm of the pulse point at the base of her throat.

No, can't have her pass out.

So he lowered his head even more and his breath spilled over her lips and she inhaled him. His gaze still hyper-focused on her, even as her eyes hid behind fluttering lashes, as his own inhale coaxed the answering exhale from her mouth.

Time had lost its meaning hours ago it seemed as she stood with her face tipped up, his body towering over her, as they strung each breath along a fine line between them. In, out… in, out. She struggled with her hitching, erratic pants, taking warm air from his lips into her lungs, into her body. With each draw her breathing evened out, but his was getting more uncontrollable. Her warmth was making him feel overheated and the excess seemed to settle low in his belly...

"Should I go on, my sweet love?" he said into her mouth and she shuddered violently, a small 'yes' escaping her.

There was a nagajuban*, also white and made of soft cotton, which was easy to peel off as it only had one tie at the side. With this garment he pulled it off by placing his hands on her shoulders and he could feel her trembling slightly.

So innocent, so enticing...

When it fell to her feet as well, she was left standing in a susoyoke.* Only he suspected that the girl would call it a slip. It was also white, trimmed in lace, and very-very short.

He moved then, unable to stand this tension, and placed one hand on her cheek and another on her waist, crushing the fabric under his fingers. Carefully, slowly, he ghosted his mouth along her jaw and then followed her pulse down her neck. His hair brushed her cheek and she gasped from the contact. Every nerve was on fire.

A purr vibrated deep in his chest as he drew in a shaky breath at the crook of her neck. "Mine," he pushed the whispered word huskily along his exhale.

She reeled, and rocked back on her heels as her knees buckled in a rippling wave of shudder.

With a groan, he grabbed her hips with both hands, uncaring that he was probably bruising her. He waited so long...

His mouth simply took everything she had to offer. All of her sweetness. He pushed his pelvis into her belly, sending her onto the wall and stepping with one leg between hers.

Her lips parted willingly. But his tongue didn't plunder; it traced the quivering shape and fullness of them with a delicacy that belied the frantic play of his hands as they cataloged every inch he could without altering his possessive embrace. She was delicate. Small bones forming an undeniably elegant and appealing figure, with slight curves and long legs.

More. More now. Mine.

Her hands reached up and encircled his neck, pulling him closer... Yes, closer. He couldn't get close enough. As if in answer to her body's demand, he stooped and easily lifted her hips up by one forearm. She ardently wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers eagerly trying to memorize every line of his chest, tracing his jaw, raking through his hair.

"Argh..." he grunted into her lips even while he pressed her further into the wall. With her back braced against the wall he took advantage of his free hands to explore her body. In contrast to what had become a deep and fervent kiss, his hands were surprisingly gentle as they ghosted over her arms, down her back - raising her nipples with a palm, feeling goosebumps on her skin.

'Must be gentle... My sweet Mariko...'

As if his body were combustible tinder, he was burning, each sensation stoked an inferno that was crackling deep inside him, its flames licking and charring everything in their wake, leaving only a punishing need for completion.

Mouths still furiously joined, his hands rested at the back of her head and tangled in her hair as he angled her so he could fully press into her. The ache in him demanded attention, but the harsh wall was hardly the best place. He wrapped his arms around her again and took a few staggered steps to the bed and slowly lowered her on to it, leaning over her, supporting her with his arms until she was lying back, pillowed on his palms. His body pressed down over hers and he purred at the delicious feel of her softness. She tightened her legs around him as he began to push his body against her rhythmically. Whimpering desperately, she arched, the movement sliding over him in the most delicious of ways and he ground back into her with more force than he ever before and she moaned aloud, the sound hoarse and almost pained.

He gasped and left her lips, nipping frantically down her jaw to follow her pulse point to where he suckled ravenously, marking her.

Oh, yessss. His.

She threw her head to the side to give him better purchase and pushed her neck into his hungry mouth. Somehow, drunk as he was on the sensation and want, he noticed the threadiness of her heartbeat and uneven speed of the each beat.

He was about to slow down (stop it, stop it, stop it) but she looked at him with hooded eyes and endless love in them and he fell back into this abyss of desire.

Mariko leaned in and pressed her lips to his desperately trying to remember the taste and the sensation. She trailed her lips back up to his eye and placed a kiss on lid, and then did the same with the other side. His skin was salty and sweaty and she could feel the stubble, and something deep within her made her tongue want to lave each inch of it. So she did, following each tiny lick with a press from her lips.

Yoshimi's shaking hands came up the back of her head, and guided her mouth back to his. This time the kiss was long, deep, sensual. As if his lips, his tongue, his very breath was desperately pulling her soul into him. Mariko released it willingly.

Like a spark falling to a pool of oil, an instant rush of fire seemed to light her from the inside. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling her body between her knees.

Desire, it seemed, overtook them both and at some point he simply grabbed the fabric of her undergarment at the collar and ripped it into like it was made of paper.

"I apologize... It has to go… now." There was another rip, and her chest was pressed to his - skin to skin. She sucked in a sharp breath of ecstasy at the sensation: satin on silk, warm and smooth and... Oh, God.

He looked down at her with a wickedly delighted smile and rubbed his body up and down hers. Slowly.

His hips seemed to fall into position between her legs on their own and his movements transformed into thrusts as his bare arm snaked behind her back. His eyes rolled in his head once and he groaned, pressing his face into her neck while his body continued to pump against her.

She arched against him, bringing her legs around his waist, pressing him frantically to her with her heels. She was going to explode!

"Oh, oh… please," she cried hoarsely.

His hands splayed over her back and he groaned into her mouth.

"Oh," he hissed as a tremor rippled through his body.

Another rip and a tug on her skin (it stung a little, her underpants, she realized) and suddenly the rough fabric that clothes his legs and pelvis was rubbing against her entirely naked body and oh...

He ducked down to graze over the shell of her ear with his teeth as his hand strummed over her skin hungrily oh, so hungrily, sneaking its way down to that apex between her thighs that was like a magnet to his every sense.

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat. He glanced up at her face to make sure it was all right. Her eyes were heavy and half-mast, her lips enticingly parted, the tip of her tongue running daintily over her front two teeth; he decided it was.

His fingers gently massaged her inner thighs, and stroked around her pelvis and her thighs magically opened.

She gasped along with him as his fingers stroked her, delicately exploring that nest of creamy warmth. He found the little pearl and stroked an exacting finger over it. He was rewarded by a low, sultry moan.

"So long," he groaned as he collapsed on a nipple. It puckered under his lips into a tiny pink berry and he it, unable to stop himself. She was going to make him mad. Well, madder...

He massaged and dipped until she was arching off the mattress with open-mouthed pants. That was it, he simply could not hold off any longer...

His hand withdrew and she slowly opened her dilated eyes, confused for a second... Until she saw that he was taking off his pants.

She stared...

He preened under that heavy gaze... She was pleased with what she saw...

And then he was on top of her again and there was no time to preen and think. Just feel.

The next thing she felt was a delicious pressure, right at the burning spot that was screaming for his touch between her legs. He adjusted his body over her, and began to push. Slowwwly. His hips pressed into her body with a patient and slow rhythm that made her eyes close and her legs spread further apart.

She felt his body, smooth and hot, enter her own and her legs lifted to rest on his back to give him better purchase.

"Centuries... my love," he murmured. "Worth the wait..."

And then, with several more strokes, she gasped at the sensation... It stung... A lot... Oh, the girl... She was untouched...

She blinked away a tear and just breathed.

So tight, so full.

His body stopped its movement, every muscle trembling, waiting for her to adjust and she loved him even more for this courtesy to her, to the girl...

She let her head fall to the side as her hips tilted instinctively upwards. "More," she sighed breathy.

With a long low moan, he began his slow stoking rhythm until he was buried so deep inside her that he filled up her very soul.

She sucked in a shaking, open-mouthed breath and tilted her head back as if that could make more room in her body for him. "Yoshimi," she gasped his name like a prayer.

"Mariko," he groaned low and sultry. "'Are you all right, saiai?" he asked hoarsely, with a hitch to his breath.

She could only sigh her assent.

And he started to move. Slowly withdrawing and then, just as slowly pushing his full length back in. Again and again, at a such a luxuriant pace that the tension he incited became unbearable.

"Oh, oh... Please!" she whimpered.

With that entreaty he slammed deeply into her body. His own need took over in the unabashedly demanding thrusts into her. The pain was laced with a pleasure too sweet to be substantial and her breath rose in a breathy cry with her back arching and hips tilted for yet more.

They plummeted over the lip of that cresting wave and peaked together, Yoshimi's low, throaty moan of Mariko heralding the seeping warmth inside her.

And then he was kissing her, all over her face, murmuring her name over and over and over.

She realized she had dug her fingernails into his back deeply, and smoothed over the dents in his skin. She brought her palms down to hold his face and looked into his eyes. They were dreamy and vulnerable and absolutely soul-rendingly gorgeous.

"Yoshimi," she whispered.

He smiled. A peaceful, soulful and glorious smile.

She wanted to keep looking at that tender and unguarded expression forever, but she could barely hold her eyelids open. "I-I feel so … tired," she mumbled with a thick tongue, too relaxed to be frightened by the sensation of having been drugged.

Nuzzling her jaw, Yoshimi rolled over on his back, pulling her with him. "Then rest, my love."

She couldn't think of any reason to resist the sudden drowsy exhaustion; her body was deliciously sated and she was splayed over the warm, smooth chest of her… of her mate.

She looked up at his face and saw the changing and swirling color of his irises: they were like liquid mercury of black and hazel and it was mesmerizing.

It must be the boy, she thought. He is beautiful.

Jack, the girl thought happily and Mariko felt the rising conscience of the girl, stretching and pushing at her to leave.

It was time.

She kissed him again, not sure when and if she would get the chance like this again.

Then she breathed deeply through her nose against the almost violent shudder of sudden cold spreading through her, even while she pressed her body to his. She was gulping air and not having enough. Her body felt like it was losing energy, as it was losing temperature, and the trembling that started in her fingers spread through her limbs. Soon she shook like a tree brunch in hurricane.

Please, no more, I think... I think...

She gritted her teeth and ordered herself to just breath...

But the eyes in front of her turned all black again and in one shockingly fast movement he had her flipped over on her back in the center of the mattress and his body pressed over hers. His mouth crushed hers with an unabashed covetousness. For just a moment she was frozen, but like snowflake on a warm palm her surprise and uncertainty melted quickly into creamy, sticky want. Her lips parted so that she could suckle that velvet tongue into her mouth, while she felt her hum of desire reverberate in her teeth.

Like a diver coming up for air, he broke the kiss with a long inhale. "So long. I waited so long for you. I am not ready to go just yet," he gasped as if reminding himself and then rained kisses down her jaw over her neck again.

As his lips reached that sensitive spot over her pulse, she moaned (it was both in want and in pain, she wasn't sure which she felt more) and pushed against him. He growled and drew her skin into his mouth, sucking fervently, biting hard. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the dual sensation of pain and pleasure.

"Yoshimi," she heard her own voice moan, raspy, unrecognizable.

Jack the girl thought sadly.

"Mine," he hissed darkly. "You're mine."

She barely was aware of it at this point. Dark spots danced in her eyes, her head felt heavy and the ringing in her ears got worse.

"Ahhhh..." She sighed, wishing she'd fall into that darkness.

"Ahhh..." she moaned again, low and uneven, and the sound devolved into a coughing fit.

He pulled back, scared and gentle, rolling her on her side and rubbing her back. When it stopped, her face was pale and dark shadows lay around her eyes. She laid back against the bed and smiled sadly, unaware that a small trickle of blood gathered at the corner of her mouth.

No, not this, please, not her...

"What... What is happening, my sweetheart?" he asked, not remotely ready to hear the answer.

"She is dying," the voice was just as pale as the face.

"Why?" he had a feeling he knew.

"Being separated from her love is making her weak. But we needed this time together..."

"I... Did she know?" once again, he knew what the answer would be to that.

"Yes. She did it for you. For us. For them. Everything has a price."

The nightmare (It is for us, I am doing this for you). The boy's, no his, no, their devastation...

The girl was dying...

No..

NO! KIM! NO!

He did not notice that tears rolled down his face until they fell down on her skin... He clutched his head and his chest at once as the pain that spread through him was unbearable. She raised herself slowly from the bed and touched his face with trembling fingers.

"What is it, my love? I can feel your distress..." she asked as if she was just in pain herself. Maybe she wasn't... It was the girl, who was sick, Mariko was... fine. She was a spirit after all.

"I feel... I feel like my heart is breaking in two. I am not sure how to explain it," he mumbled.

"It's the boy. Please let go. The girl must live."

What was she saying? He loved her, was bonded to her, was married to her... The girl was insignificant... Wasn't she?

No, Kim, please...

Stubborn, he tried to shake away the feeling and kissed Mairko again. But as enticing as she was being right now, the dull ache in his chest would not go away.

Still he pressed harder into her lips. Heady taste of her and the feeling of her small body, drove him on, reigniting the passion that was just beneath the surface. He pulled her closer and kissed her deeper. He was lost in the intoxication of the moment...

Until he tasted copper...

No, Kim, please, stop, Kim-hurt-Kim-hurt.

With a roar he pulled back and stumbled out of bed, clutching his head.

"NO! NO! NO!" he shouted and she fell onto the bed, pale and scared, her pulse beating wildly and the breathing uneven.

He made a move towards her and spoke against the tightness in the chest, "It's not you. I am not talking to you," he managed in a normal tone. "It's the boy. He is fighting me now. He wants... He needs... He l-loves..." he stopped as another wave of pressure and pain broke through him, robbing him with no words and leaving behind just a scream.

"KIM!"

*Obi is a wide belt worn with kimonos and tied in the back.

*Nagajuban is the inner kimono meant to protect the silk one.

*Susoyoke is a half-slip worn under the nagajuban. Here, Kim is basically wearing a regular white chemise.