heaven's gate

by makapedia

Another second goes by. Nanami looks frozen in time. Maybe she's wondering if she's hallucinating. Tomoe mindlessly closes the door behind him, lest nosy snakes peer through the cracks.

"Nanami, it is time for bed. Please put out your light and-"

"Tomoe-?!"

He's walked in on his lady millions of times, in various states of panic. Once, he'd caught her dancing with her headphones in, dressed only in an oversized shirt and her underwear, and Nanami had blushed so deeply he'd thought she'd never return to her normal shade of pasty white. And while embarrassing and awkward, Tomoe still thinks it's for the best, that he checks in nightly and sets his Land God to bed at a reasonable hour. Humans are fickle creatures, he thinks - foolish and fickle, and if he let her, Tomoe knows Nanami would stay up until unholy hours of the morning, watching television or something similarly ridiculous.

He's never walked in on her with her hand shoved down her pants before. Hell, for half a second he thinks he's hallucinating, or maybe he's daydreaming, because his mistress is as innocent as they come, but when they lock eyes and hers go as wide as dinner plates, it's clear that this, indeed, is actually Nanami.

Another second goes by. Nanami looks frozen in time. Maybe she's wondering if she's hallucinating. Tomoe mindlessly closes the door behind him, lest nosy snakes peer through the cracks.

It seems to jump start her brain. Nanami jumps so far she bonks her head on the floor, hand lurching out of her panties in a blur. For a moment, Tomoe is impressed. Such reflexes, and from a human, no less!

"I- Tomoe," she squeaks, flustering adorably. And, well, Tomoe is no stranger to sex, so he wills it not to phase him, and merely sets the tea he'd brought with him beside her and takes a seat. "Wh- how- why are you- can't you knock?!"

This will not embarrass him. It cannot. His lady is getting to that age, he supposes - her eighteenth birthday came and went nearly a month ago. It's not like he's never seen a woman in the thrall of passion before. It's not like he's never thought about Nanami and orgasms before.

He supposes he's just never considered Nanami giving herself orgasms before. Tomoe sort of just thought she spent her time twiddling her thumbs and dreaming about very vanilla lovemaking, with a very vanilla human boy, and white picket fences and a diamond ring on her finger.

"My apologies," he says, pouring out a cup of tea dutifully. "I wasn't aware you'd be busy in here by yourself."

Nanami's cheeks burn. She slaps her hands down beside her and goes rigid. "Why are you still in here?!"

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes!"

"Very well," Tomoe says, setting the cup down beside her bedroll. "If that's what you really want, I'll go and leave you to your own devices. Mind you, it is bedtime, and if you have difficulty waking up tomorrow morning, it will be your own fault."

She chews her lower lip and looks from him to the tea beside her. It's like she's torn for a moment, stuck between scolding him for not minding her privacy and thanking him for his diligence. But his master is quick, and sharper than she lets on, and instead of doing either she presses her hands to her blessedly clothed lap and yelps, "Don't you even care a little?"

Tomoe does not entertain the thought. Cannot give it the mileage it so craves. "Pardon?"

"It's like…!" Nanami grasps for straws, squirming beneath his gaze. It's all very cute, and she's adorable, blushing beneath his stare, but there's a growing heat in the pit of his gut, and perhaps this whole scenario is more dangerous than he'd originally thought. "It's like this hasn't even phased you a bit, a-and- this isn't normal, you know, to just walk in on somebody… you know!"

He cannot help himself. "Do I, now?"

Red is quite a nice color on her. It compliments the brown of her eyes. He sort of wants to lick it from her skin, to feel the heat of her blush buzzing from her cheeks. "What?"

"Maybe I don't know what you've been up to in here." Nanami flusters further, somehow, and Tomoe cannot keep himself from teasing her further. It is his duty, he thinks, as her faithful lapdog and eye candy, to take these small victories. Victories, of course, being Nanami's luminescent blush. "Alone. By yourself. With those damp fingers."

"Tomoe!"

"I really have no idea," he sighs, faux-innocently, and Nanami crushes her hands to her lap with such force it's almost comical. "None whatsoever."

"You're the worst," she says, brows furrowed, blushing, blushing.

"Perhaps you should enlighten me? If it's so bothersome, I don't see why you can't try to explain it to me." Hook, line and sinker. Nanami's eyes go wide again and she's the deer in the headlights. "I am your familiar, after all. It is my duty to attend to your concerns."

"You-!" Nanami tugs at her hair, then grabs at his robes and yanks. "You know what I was doing, you stupid thot!"

"Thot," Tomoe chuffs, almost offended.

"Don't play dumb! I know you're not that dumb, jerk!" That hand of hers grasps his robes more tightly and pulls him down to her level. She's gutsy, for someone caught red handed. "Stop bullying me!"

"I have never bullied you once in my life."

"I will throttle you." She's close now, close enough for him to smell the faint, floral scent of her conditioner, and the effect isn't lost on him. It's silly; it's such a simple thing, a product of a convenience store, surely, but his breath catches for a moment, frustratingly. "If you're just going to tease me then you can get out. It's fine if you're not attracted to me, I can deal with that, but this is embarrassing, okay!"

Foolish girl. He reaches out to flick her forehead. Nanami's nose flares and she tries to bite the offending finger. "Cut it out!"

Binding word vibrates through his bones. Gutted, he stares helplessly at her as she shoves him back and folds her arms over her chest, pouting.

Fine. He'll lay off. Just a bit. Tomoe stands and bows his head, all theatrics, just to piss her off that bit more. "If that is what you wish, mistress."

"Tomoe!"

"Your faithful fox will make himself scarce then, unless further assistance is needed."

It catches her off guard. Her expression goes blank again, for a moment, and he basks in it, this pause in reaction. Her eyes are so deep and warm, framed by fluttering, dark lashes, and he is allowed a moment of sap, seeing as she is Nanami, after all. For a moment, he is allowed to simply drink in the glee of bringing his lady to the brink of speechlessness.

Then it breaks and Nanami's blush darkens, somehow. It is all the more sweet. Something rumbles in his chest, deeply pleased. "Wh..!"

"Does my lady require assistance?"

"I don't… require anything," she says, voice tight, hands pressed back to her lap. It's distracting. He doesn't stare but he thinks about it, very intently.

"Does my lady wish for assistance?"

He has the upper hand. There's no reason for his heart to flutter in his chest. Nanami's the one who should feel caught off guard - her loyal servant and kissing partner is offering to get her off. The whole thing seems so silly; for her to be upset, or to think, even for a moment, that he doesn't desire her is absurd. He would move mountains for her, if she so asked. He would get down on his knees and pray at the altar that are her hips for nothing more than the resulting smile on her face.

And her orgasm. He'd do a lot of things, for the sake of her orgasm. He is a faithful fox.

"..." Nanami blinks, swallows. He tries not to stare at her throat like a mutt. "... Yes. I do."

Like duty, Tomoe falls back to his knees before her. He allows her every opportunity to retreat, or rethink her choice, or change her mind - he gives her an out, if she so wishes, because he does love her with every bit of his being, and if this is too sudden then he will stop, of course. But Nanami stares at him with such resolved sureness that it breaks something in him, something fragile and ancient, and Tomoe slides his hands over her knees.

Her hands drop from her lap. He burns a path up her thighs (warm, slender thighs, he thinks) and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. They've already been rolled up twice at the hips, clearly too large for her waifish frame, and that brokenness in him rumbles.

"I will be gentle," he swears.

"I know," says Nanami, and the look in her eyes tells him she means it.

There's a nervous hitch to her voice, a twitch to her hands as he tugs the fabric down her thin hips, but still, she raises herself up to help him pull the fabric off of her body, up over her knees, ankles, feet. Her toes point in the air as she flops back onto the bedroll, head propped up by a single pillow, and Tomoe takes his time, pressing a kiss to her ankle reverently.

He's no stranger to this, to seduction, to the finer matters of intimacy and sex. It feels as though he's lived a thousand lives inside of his one, has walked thousands of miles - Nanami is not his first, but she will be his last, and the thought of having a last warms something in him he didn't think could be warm. At the very least, he thinks, Nanami will benefit from his experience. It will be good, he promises himself. He will be good to her.

Tomoe shifts to kneel directly in front of her. Situates himself between her legs and pauses for fear. There is none. It seems, to Nanami, allowing a yokai into her bed is no big deal. The danger of it all doesn't give her pause for a moment.

Instead, she keeps looking up at him as if the sun's risen in his eyes. It's maddening. He's angry, for a moment, but swallows those twisted feelings back and instead trails his mouth further down her legs, along her calves, dips his tongue into the pit of her knee, where her skin is sensitive and warm and a little sweaty.

The taste grounds him. He takes his time. Nanami trembles beneath his touch, and her excitement is palpable. He cannot focus on it without losing his composure; he is so very sensitive to her plight, this tiny, frustrating Land God and the hold she has over him, and every little intake of breath threatens to tear him at the seams.

He's served this woman for years. Has loved her for hundreds more. He is allowed to be a little sappy, is allowed a singular moment of weakness.

Her thighs are warmer than anything else. Soft, and warm, and so damn skinny; no matter how he tries to feed her, it seems she metabolizes it just as quickly. There's no reason for it. She has a home now. Has regular meals. Her body's desperate attempts to work every last morsel into precious energy frustrates him. He's not going anywhere.

"Tomoe," she says, tiny and breathless.

He flicks his eyes up to hers. "Yes."

"I'm not…" Nanami flushes and squirms. "It won't be... like… I'm not much," she settles with.

"You are more than I deserve."

"That's not what I…"

"More than anyone could ever deserve," he says simply. The press of her thighs threatens to undo him.

Nanami shifts, slips her hands to her hips, plucks at the elastic waist of her panties. They're simple and white, surely just cotton, but he is magnetized to the motion like nothing else. "It's just," she starts, and Tomoe feels the leash she holds him on tighten further. "... I'm not… I don't want you to laugh at me."

"I would never."

Her cheeks are a deep pink. "That's a big fat lie."

"I would never laugh at your body, Nanami." He is a demon but not a monster, goodness. "There is nothing to laugh about."

"I'm small."

"You are beautiful," he says sincerely. She is beautiful in body and soul, and that's something many, many people could not say about themselves.

It seems to placate her concerns. Her eyes are misty before she blinks it away and works on shimmying her panties down her slender hips. It's stupid, and Tomoe has seen women in far more risque situations, in further states of undress, but this is Nanami, and he is allowed one more moment of weakness. Just one more and he will pull himself together.

Then she squeezes her eyes shut and squeaks, embarrassed.

No matter. She has nothing to be ashamed of. He is happy to attend to her whims.

Her skin is soft, and warm, and his hands scorch a path up until he's holding her by the hips. She's tiny, yes, but it's never struck him quite as hard as it does right this moment; her hip bones are peaked beneath his palms, sharp and delicate. He wants.

"N-No claws," Nanami squeaks.

"Of course."

"I don't- oh." Breath leaves her all at once as he slips a very normal thumb around her clit. Gentle circles, just enough to ease her into the motion, not enough to scare her off. He will give her what she deserves - normal, vanilla, human.

Settling on his stomach before her, Tomoe hooks a leg over his shoulder. Watchfully, he allows his lady a further moment of consideration, as he touches her gingerly, gradually. The heel of her foot digs in between his shoulder blades and his hips press into the mats.

She rises to watch him, resting on her elbows. "Tomoe," she says again.

He quite likes the sound of his name on her lips. Wonders what it must taste like. "Nanami?"

"Thank you," she says, blushing like a darling, watching him with blazing eyes. The want is written plainly on her face, less innocent than he'd ever imagined - but certainly no less inspiring. His tail shifts behind him, pleased.

It is his duty to serve. What sort of familiar would he be if he left her to her own devices? Allowing her to work her pretty fingers to the bone? Absurd. What sort of man would he be, to leave his mistress bothered, when he has perfectly functioning hands of his own?

Amongst other things. Tomoe licks his lips.

"It is my pleasure," he says, still playing it up, because he can tell how it gets to her, this game of master and servant they play. She may be human still but he is not, and the senses of a fox are far greater than her own. He can smell it on her, this blatant thrill, can sense the rush of blood in her veins.

"It's… ah." The sigh cracks him wide open. He glances up and Nanami has her head tipped back, neck long and delicate, pretty like a swan's. "... Please."

He wants to sink his teeth into her. Wants to leave a mark, wants to taste the sweat on her skin. One long, slow lick up her center has her melting back, reducing her bones to jelly; her arms drop and her head hits the pillow with a sigh of his name, and then he's hefting her other leg over his shoulder too and properly paying his respects.

Tomoe commits it to memory, the feel of her thighs pressed around his face, trembling, and the sound of her voice, the throaty groan that escapes her when he presses a warm kiss to her clit. She cuts the sound off, surely with a hand cupped over her face, and he continues greedily, soaking in the feeling of her, all around him, the incredible warmth and taste that is distinctly Nanami.

"Is this satisfactory?"

The whining sound that buzzes from behind her fingers blazes through him more fiercely than any foxfire ever could. Enough teasing, he thinks, and then feasts properly, giving Nanami everything he has.

She gasps and jolts, thighs tight around his jaw. He slips a hand to her stomach and presses his palm down, holding her to the floor as he kisses her, very openly, very shamelessly. It's a little dangerous, this position, and it fuels him; the way her stomach moves beneath his hand is perverse and delightful, and Tomoe slides his palm beneath the hem of her shirt, greedy, still for skinship with his mistress.

It's like she's melting, and he's surrounded by her, the smell of her lotion and the heat of her body and the tug of her fingers, burying themselves in his hair. When she gives him a good yank he sucks her clit between his lips dutifully. He introduces his fingers into the mix, first one and then two, with deliberately clipped claws, and then hooks them within her and Nanami whimpers.

He's tethered too intimately to his Land God not to know she's ready to burst. He can feel it, this knot deep within her, tight, too tight. Fluttering, trembling skin and a molten heat and then the clipped sound of his name on her lips, desperate, pleading, and it's a physical tug in his chest, to help her reach the surface. Useful, he wants to be useful, wants to bring her to the brink of madness, wants her to crash land and fall apart and wants to help piece her back together. Wants her to crush his face between her twiggy legs, even.

It doesn't take much longer for Nanami to fall apart. Surely she's never experienced something like this before, and certainly never with anyone as experienced in the matter as he is - Nanami must know her own body, must know how to work her own fingers into her heat and find some sort of release - but, well, he has a mouth and a soul-binding contract and knows the exact moment it happens, that her world is rocked, because the pleasure pops in his chest too, albeit a faint echo of what his lady and mistress must be feeling.

Tomoe closes his eyes and sucks in a cleansing breath. What he wouldn't give to crawl up and kiss her, to bury other parts of himself so deeply within her, to mold himself completely against her and lose himself in this, in her radiant glow. He doesn't; that's more than he could ever deserve.

Instead, he works his fingers slowly, gently, nursing her through the aftershock. She flutters around him, unbidden, and Tomoe schools his expression into something more befitting the familiar of a god, something less passion-hungry fox.

Nanami melts back into her bed, spent, limbs loose and breathing slow. He sits back on his knees and observes.

Both hands pressed to her face, Tomoe can make out the pink heat in her cheeks, burning bright, and she's like his own personal sun, tiny and adorable. He cannot help but orbit her. "Better, my lady?"

She peeks at him through her fingers. It's cute, and very dainty, but her legs are still spread, and that part of her is just as pink and kissable.

He really ought to behave himself. He is domesticated now.

"Tomoe," she says, breathy and wonderful. "Tomoe!"

"My lady." And he can't help the crooked smile.

Nanami clambors up to sit, clearly willing her bones to become solid far before they're ready. "Tomoe," she says again, eyes blazing, grasping at his kimono. "Tomoe, let me help you."

He blinks. Fire shoots straight through his blood. "Pardon?"

"You- I want to help you too," she says, and her fingers are curling in the silk of his robe. insistent and so bluntly Nanami it hurts. She's brash, in the way she handles him and demands things of him, but this pleading in her eyes, this question - it chokes him up. "I want to touch you."

He's harder than he's ever dared be in his God's presence. "N… Nanami," he says, as gently as he can manage, "I didn't offer with the intention of getting something in return."

"I know." Her eyes are brighter than anything. Those fingers tug him closer, and goodness, what he wouldn't give to be beneath her, to have those tiny hands pinning him down. "But I'll do it if you want me to. I want to… to touch you too."

He's half impressed she can get the words out. The rest of him is terribly, horribly aroused. He wishes he had a fan. "... Nanami…"

"You spend so much time protecting me and keeping me safe," she says, infuriatingly, as if it isn't his job and joy in life, to serve her. It's so matter of fact, this way she speaks of his love, as if it is born out of obligation and not these terrifying feelings she inspires in him. "I want to be able to help you too, you know! If… If that's okay, or if that's something you want, because if it's not that's okay too, and-"

He kisses her. He can't help himself. Nanami's hands are in his hair in moments, holding him there, and he quite likes it here in her grasp. It's endearing how eager she is, even despite her inexperience; it doesn't matter much, he thinks, watching her draw back and bite her lip. He'll be happy to teach her everything she needs to know. Happy, even, to be her guinea pig.

"I love you," she confesses, just as resolutely as the first time. "I love you. Please let me love you."

Foolish girl.

"I have never loved anyone else the way I love you," he allows, and the resulting glee on her face is more than enough for him. He needs nothing else but this, the way she looks at him like he's the freshly risen sun, the way she holds his neck, gliding a thumb over his throat.

But everything else is nice, he will admit. The way she leans forward to kiss his throat is nice. The flutter of her lashes against his skin, the smell of her simple, floral conditioner, the eager hands pushing the front of his kimono open - it's all very nice. More than nice. Nanami's tongue dipping between his collarbones takes his damn breath away.

"Pervert," he mutters fondly.

He can feel her pout, pressed just above his right nipple. "I love you, jerk."

And she'll never let him forget it. Nanami blazes a trail down his torso with her mouth, and by the time she's plopping onto her stomach before him, bare assed, Tomoe is practically panting, heart thundering in his chest.

He wonders if she can hear it. It's all that he can hear, the blood pulsing in his ears, his heartbeat rumbling and racing like a storm, and his fingers are clawed again as he pushes his hands through her hair, unable to maintain any form other than this, raw and unfortunately him. But it never seems to cross Nanami's mind, how odd this is for her, a human girl, to look up at a demon like himself with such remarkable love in her eyes, and his own sort of sting a bit.

Tomoe cannot breathe deeply. He can only suck in short, shallow breaths, combing back her hair with trembling hands.

"I don't know what I'm doing, so-" Nanami licks her lips, scoots forward, takes him shyly into her hands. "... So tell me if it's, um, bad?"

Bad. He would laugh, if he wasn't busy trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. It's like he's a damn virgin or something. He's done this before! Many times! In larger groups of people! There's no earthly reason for him to be so choked up.

"It's warm," Nanami marvels.

"Pervert."

She blushes but doesn't deny him this time. She tests her grip, tightening her fingers around him and forces a whine from him.

Nanami pauses, loosens her grasp. "I-?"

"No," he says, breathing out shakily. He cannot go on like this. "It's alright. I will teach you."

Her hands are so much smaller than his. His palm completely dwarfs her, as he adjusts her grip and the angle of her wrist. "You'll wear yourself out," Tomoe advises, as if he will last longer than three damn seconds at this rate. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Her legs kick behind her, as if she's talking on the phone with Ami or something, as if she's not holding his dick in her hands and marveling at it. She's still not wearing pants. Her ass is so pale and has surely never seen the light of day.

At least he's already going to hell, he thinks. This cannot damn him any more than his past.

"The skin is so soft," she says, almost delighted, sliding her hand at the most torturously slow pace. He still has his fingers linked around her wrist but he cannot bring himself to hurry her along; he will die like this, in her gentle grasp, jerked slowly to oblivion. "Way softer than I thought it'd be…"

"So you've thought about it," he says through his teeth. "Does my lady sit around and think about me?"

Nanami purses her lips. Glides her thumb over the tip of him and ah, that makes things easier. She's a quicker study than he'd thought.

Legs still kicking behind her, his mistress dips her head and presses her lips to the tip, too. Every nerve in his body short circuits simultaneously, and Tomoe jerks uncontrollably, maddeningly. When he accidentally pulls her hair a little too roughly she gasps and cups his hip with her free hand. She looks up to him, eyes dark and wide and curious and the breath he takes is tremendously difficult.

"I'm sorry, Nanami, I-"

Her lashes flutter before she closes her eyes and takes more of him into her mouth. Her lips are soft and her mouth warm and he absolutely cannot pull her hair again, he cannot. Tomoe bites his lip so hard it bleeds, watching as a Land God dips between his legs and takes as much of him as she can. He hadn't thought- when she said she wanted to touch him, surely she hadn't meant-

He wants to close his eyes. Wants to focus on the feeling of her, of her tongue, to preserve the modesty of this stubborn, stubborn girl but he cannot look away. She's so pretty, and he forces his hands steady, to brush her bangs from her face and hold her hair out of her way. That hand on his hip is steady and firm, thumb pressed lower, and he could purr, if he was less careful.

Tomoe tries to keep his wits about him. He really does. It's such a precarious balance he walks, caught between enjoying himself immensely and trying not to come in her mouth like a loser. He cannot allow a God to lower herself so, to allow a mere familiar to take advantage of her kindness in such a way - but it's far too appealing, to be with her in such a capacity, and she's sighing, as if such a thing is actually pleasurable for her.

It's messy. She's not actually very good at this, he thinks. Objectively he has had far better blowjobs in his time, but nobody has looked up at him with quite so much love in their eyes. It's weird how much feelings change things. It's weird, how terribly it makes his chest hurt.

"Nanami," he says, voice tight. "Nanami, please."

She hums. His blood lurches, far too excited, and he's so goddamn hard he might actually combust and die.

"Nanami, Nanami," Tomoe says, feeling a thousand miles away from his body. Her hair is so soft between his fingers.

Their eyes lock. Goodness, her jaw must hurt. Such a motion must be alien for her.

She drags her lips up his shaft and releases him with far too noisy of a pop. Accidentally bumps her cheek with his dick when she tilts her head questioningly at him and that's it, that's all it takes for him.

He throws her back before he can think it through. Tomoe takes matters into his own hands and comes in about two seconds flat, panting, gasping, flustered beyond belief. Nanami gawks and stares at him, sitting back on her hands, eyes wide and more than a little disappointed.

Chest heaving with breath, Tomoe struggles to collect himself. He hasn't lost control like that in years. Longer than he can remember.

"I wanted to do that," she says, knees pressed together.

Tomoe feels as though he's run a mile. Where has his stamina gone? "That… would be improper."

"Like I give a damn about that." She's pouting.

"I do," Tomoe says, and it's almost the truth. In all honesty, he doesn't want to think about what would happen if he'd allowed himself to finish so close to her, doesn't want to think about his hips and guilt and her pretty pink lips.

Nanami's still pouting, though. She reaches forward and takes his wrist into her hands, tugging him over, and before he can stop her she's pressing her mouth to his sweating, messy palm. She kisses him openly, shamelessly, blushing but still so sure in herself as her tongue dips between the spaces of his fingers.

"N-Nanami," he sputters. How this girl manages to fluster him is beyond him.

Her expression pinches and then she hides her face behind her hand as she winces. "It's... ? Bleh, no, sorry, I wanted-"

"You do not have to do anything," he insists, yanking his hand back and wiping it clean on the hand towel he'd brought in with her tea. "And you do not have to pretend like it's pleasurable for you. I am no stranger to the taste, you do not have to lie to me."

She wipes her tongue with the back of her hand sheepishly. "It's what the girls do in my romance novels, so-"

"That is them and this is you. I expect nothing of the sort from you." He expects nothing at all, really. He would have been perfectly happy to eat her out until she'd fallen asleep, sated and happy. "Your happiness is my happiness."

Now it's her turn to fluster. "H-Hey! Yours is mine too, you know! I want- I didn't ask you to use your mouth and you still did, s-so-"

"I enjoy that," he says, sorting himself out, falling back into his role. He gazes very openly at her, naked from the waist down, hips slender but undeniably attractive, thighs pale and soft and pink. "I find great pleasure in such things. You do not have to pretend for my sake."

"But I wanted to try!" Pouting, again, arms crossed over her chest, as if she still hasn't realized she's half naked and he's eyeing her. "Besides. You should've seen the look on your face! I've never seen you look at me like that. Or anyone like that!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I broke you!" She's far too gleeful. How dare she. "I broke your cool!"

"You did no such thing."

"I did! I so did!"Nanami cheers, then she's scrambling over to him and tackling him with a hug.

He catches her, barely, and balances just in time to keep the both of them upright, as Nanami presses her face to the bare strip of his skin left exposed by his loosely-tied kimono. Her arms link around his waist so securely that he also almost forgets that she's still not wearing pants, so caught up in the security of being in his mistress's arms.

It's just like her, to take pride in such a thing. It is physically impossible for him to not hug her back, and then they're sitting in the middle of her room, half dressed, holding each other like a pair of damn fools.

"... Was it okay?"

The insecurity is so easily read between her lines. In stark red ink. Tomoe strokes the back of her head and presses a kiss into her hair. "I have never felt anything quite like that."

She squirms nervously. "That's. That's not necessarily…"

"Nanami," he says.

Her nose presses to his sternum. Lips press to the center of his chest. So touchy feely, this girl. He's never experienced anything quite like her, truly.

He twirls a lock of her hair around his finger adoringly, tail shifting behind him, pleased beyond compare. "I never want to rush you. We will take it slowly," he says, mindful of her, this tiny bundle of girl and god, of life and love. "But do not think even for a moment that I did not enjoy you."

Her smile spreads, pressed to his skin. The effect it has on his heart is as wonderful as it is terrifying, but this is him, he thinks. This is the new him, doting familiar, adoring partner, lovestruck fool. He will just have to learn to deal with it.

"... Now. Pants?"

"I… oh. OH."