Fairy Tales
Their room invited them to rest in the simple beauty of a traditional ryokan. Sunlight filtering through round windows lit the room in warm honey tones, highlighting the tea ceremony set centered on the low table. Kyoko's socked feet padded noiselessly over the tatami mats to the tea set. She picked up the tea pot reverently, the glazed clay smooth beneath her hands. A humble laugh— she turned to face Ren, holding out the pot. "Do you remember?"
He wrapped his hand around hers, cradling the pot together. He bent, nuzzling his forehead to hers, his nod more of a caress than an answer. She exhaled slowly, letting the story come full circle.
"Hoo," she said, the nonsense syllable feeling necessary as she tried to wade out of the moment. Silken robes hung in the wardrobe enticingly. "Kuon," she said, whispering his name like the beautiful secret it was. "Should we?" The black fabric felt glorious on her fingertips; she longed to wrap it around her.
Ren reached over her to slide the robe off its hanger and hold it in front of her. "I would love to," he said. His voice was as warm and restful as the onsen awaiting them, but where the spring brought peace this filled her with the reckless heat of desire. He kissed the tip of her ear, sliding the robe around her shoulders. "Meet you downstairs?"
She managed to grab his hand before he slipped away, too polite for what was rising inside her. "You…" she paused, fidgeting slightly. "You don't have to leave." She watched his eyes darken and his lips part as he paused, her pulse skyrocketing watching him drink in her words like wine.
His hands moved excruciatingly slowly, his eyes never wavering from hers as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting the fabric drift open. It was getting hard to breathe; she wanted to close the teasingly short distance between them and run her hands across his chest, pushing the offensive shirt off. She gripped the silk robe like a life preserver, thankful for the fabric barrier between him and her need. Her breath hitched as his shirt slid off his shoulders to the floor, his hands running down his own skin to tug sharply at the sole button securing his dark jeans.
She rubbed the soft fabric of her robe over her lips, fixated on his fingers as they slid down the zipper with a whisper of metal. He was breathing quickly too, now, his chest muscles tense with each increasing inhale.
He was beautiful, and powerful, and dangerous. He stood there before her, vulnerable in his nakedness yet so piercingly alive she couldn't stand it. Her robe dropped in a hushed pile; he closed the distance between them and swept her into a heated, desperate kiss that set her entire body on fire. His hands fumbled as he jerked off her shirt, catching on her shoulders, then her ears, his cheeks tinted with faint embarrassment at the clumsiness their need induced. Then she was bare before him too, and they were free, everything else forgotten as they clung to one another.
"Ooooh…" How she blushed as she floated in the onsen, her body still tingling with memories of him. The shower had done little to rinse away his scent; it was as if he had claimed her body and soul and now she would never be able to run from the deliciously wonderful fact that Kuon didn't just need her.
He wanted her.
She twisted giddily in the water, tiny splashes lapping at the sides of the stone pool. Steam rose in pillow wafts around her, making the onsen her secret glade in the sunshine. She bit her lip, pressing the small white towel to her face to hide her girlish squeals as the reality of them washed over her. Somehow it was even more vibrantly real here, in the warmth of the onsen, his warmth still lingering inside her.
His voice echoed over the bamboo barrier between the gender baths. "I can see why you believed in fairies, growing up here." He spoke lazily, the consonants soft, and she could almost imagine him leaning back against the smooth stone walls, his arms stretched out in support, his lean torso barely submerged as he let his feet drift in the shallow water.
"Mmmm," she said, not sure herself if it was an answer to his question or a reaction to her imagination running wild.
"Kyoko," he said. His voice had grown clearer, like he had twisted around and was facing the wall now, his head resting on his forearms, bangs damp from the steam. "Could we visit our spot?"
She nodded, imagining what would happen if the bamboo were to spontaneously combust and leave nothing but a trail of ashes between them. Her sight and his linked in an instant, his pose no longer a mystery, and his arms wrapping around her, holding her tight to him as they floated together, his hungry lips hers once more.
"Kyoko? We don't have to," he said, his voice concerned.
She sat up straight, water sloshing with her movement. "Oh! Oh, no sorry, I nodded- I forgot- yes, Ren, I would love to." She sank down low in the water, her mouth just above the warmth, trying to blame the heat of the steam for her reddened cheeks. "Let's go today."
Fuwa-san made them a picnic basket full of fresh fruit, onigiri, and egg sandwiches. Ren grimaced involuntarily at the weight, hiding his dismay at the mass quantity of food he was apparently expected to eat with effusive thanks to their hosts. They waved off all his protests and attempts at payments, shushing them out the door.
Ren's phone rang as they stepped off the porch; a quick glance and a nod asking her permission before he stepped aside to answer it, his hand hefting the picnic basket. Something about his bicep presses with the basket exuded nervous energy and Kyoko crept closer, curious as to the caller.
"No, two weeks is fine; as long as it's finished before I leave. Mmm, yes. No, I'm not sure what it is, but I'll find out her- Kyoko-chan!" He jumped, seeing her standing close, and shuffled farther away, his gentlemanly smile plastered on his face. He whispered requests for one moment, be right there at her before turning back to the conversation, his eyes watching her more closely. She only caught bits and pieces now, her curiosity at a devil's peak. "Size… okay, yes… like what we…"
She wanted to pout at being left out, but clearly this was something he preferred to keep private. So she settled for scuffing at the moss beside the stone pathway, then being overwhelmed with remorse at disturbing the aged peace of it's growth. She knelt, whispering apologies to the moss fairies, patting it back down perfectly in place. Suede shoes peeked in the corner of her vision; he was done. She waited a beat longer, finishing her job a tad more perfectly than necessary, then stood, still slightly piqued for no good reason.
"Important call?" she asked. She couldn't help herself.
"Nope," he said, twirling the picnic basket and offering her his arm. She huffed, but the warmth of his presence as she was tucked in beside him, their mismatched gaits making her sway against him deeply with each step soon overwhelmed any silly competition with a mystery caller.
She did still make a mental note to check and see what was two weeks away when she got back to her calendar book.
The hike to the glade was significantly shorter than she'd remembered. As a little girl it had seemed a whole kingdom away, her breath coming in short gasps by the time she ran far enough to collapse at the safety of her stream's banks. Even before Corn appeared, this was her refuge. The trees parted before them and a watershed of memories poured over her, joy and sorrow and her first ever taste of hope rushing to fill her mind as the scents and sounds of their spot filled her senses. Rich, earthy moss, wet with dew; blindingly bright sun shimmers on the surface; water so clear it almost disappeared beneath the sun's rays, betraying its presence in the bubbling brook only by the way the streambed seemed to quaver and throb beneath its ripples. There was music in the water, and life, and suddenly, bright and glorious laughter as Corn stood beside her again, his arms stretched over for balance high atop the rock.
She shaded her face, the sun's brightness a scorching halo around him. Her eyes teared with wonder as he spun, his head thrown back, his feet slipping and sliding on the mossy stone but every movement suffused with grace and joy.
This was their kingdom, and the prince was finally home.
