Denji dashed out of his apartment taking a huge bite of the piece of toast slathered with butter and two kinds of jam, strawberry and blackberry. Remembering his book bag before he locked the door, he reached inside to pick it up from the floor.

Just as he slammed his door, the next door neighbor's opened and a man was ejected from the apartment. The man, wearing only his tiny bikini underwear, flapped like a bird with a broken wing hitting the wall on the other side of the hallway. All Denji could think was what a crying shame it wasn't a woman dressed in a pair of little bitty bikini panties and nothing more.

"Listen here you psycho bitch!" the man yelled, stomping toward the apartment.

His pants came flying out next, slapping him in the face, the legs encircling his head. One shiny patent leather shoe was hurled at his head which he barely dodged. The second shoe made contact with his abdomen making him grunt and fold in half from the pain.

"You listen to me you ridiculous son of a bitch!" the woman inside screamed, tossing out his white dress shirt shirt. "Don't you ever call me again! Delete my number and forget my name!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" the man bellowed, bending down to rescue the shirt from the dirty hallway floor. "That's one hundred percent silk! That costs more than you make in a month!"

Stuffing the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth, Denji decided to watch the drama unfolding in front of him. He was already late for school so a few more minutes did not matter.

"I don't give a damn you asshole! You can afford it! Here's your fucking tailored Italian jacket!" she shrilled, throwing it out next.

Denji chuckled when the ball of fabric hurdled over the man's head and hit the floor behind him.

"I'm going to kill you," the man growled, ignoring the rumpled jacket at his heels. His furious eyes turned to Denji. "What the fuck are you looking at you little prick?"

Denji shrugged.

A shapely leg shot out of the open doorway. The foot with toenails painted the vibrant crimson of blood smacked the man in the right square in the nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils, spraying his bare chest with droplets of blood.

"Motherfucker!" he yelled, covering his injured and most likely broken nose with his hands as he dropped to his knees.

"Don't be rude to my neighbors!" she hollered as if to explain why she kicked the hell out of him. Stepping out of her apartment to reveal more of herself than her neighbor expected, she glared down at the man she had brought to his knees.

Denji's eyes widened as if to taken more of the sight of the mostly naked woman wearing a short white silk robe with lacey white panties and bra underneath to match.

"Wow," he breathed, his eyes fixating on her big boobs barely contained by the thin virtually see through fabric.

"Oh, my God," she gasped upon noticing her young male neighbor who had witnessed the entire shameful altercation. "I am so so sorry."

She bowed deeply, shielding her breasts from his vision with the top of her head but not before Denji was able to see the mounds straining at the lace threatening to overflow the thin material barely containing them.

Denji could hear his heartbeat in his ears even though the blood in his body had mostly been diverted downward to form a burgeoning ache between his legs.

"I am so sorry you had to see that," she apologized.

Denji had liked what he saw when she stepped into the hall. Forced to look at the top of her head now, he noticed the big white bow on her headband all but lost in the mass of short springy black curls. When she straightened up, her face was as red as her fingernails that matched her toenails. Unshed tears of humiliation made her pale blue eyes glisten as she blinked her long black lashes to hold them back.

Before she closed and tied her robe, he had stolen a glimpse of her light brownish pink nipples through the sheer lace of her bra. A patch of black hair was visible through the peek a boo pattern of flowers on her panties. The sudden lack of blood in his head made it feel light and airy like a balloon ready to float away into the sky.

"Oh, my God, I'm in such a shameful state," she muttered, pulling her robe tightly around her body.

"I don't mind, really," he assured her.

The man on the floor between them groaned and struggled to get to his feet. Swaying from side to side, he sneered at the woman with whom he had been arguing. Taking a swing at the smirking spectator, he spun around in a circle when Denji simply took a step back to avoid getting punched.

Denji grabbed the man, twisting his arm behind his back. The would be assailant howled like a wounded animal, rising onto his tiptoes to avoid having his arm broken.

"Would you like for me to take this trash out?" Denji asked the woman.

"Yes, please," she requested politely.

"What are you going to give me for getting rid of this asshole?" he inquired, smiling as the woman's dark eyebrow arched toward her hairline questioningly.

"I'll cook you dinner," she replied to his surprise rather than cursing him out or slapping him.

"You stupid slut. He's just a fucking kid," the man growled. "I'm going to come back and kill you."

Denji increased the pressure on his arm causing a bone to crack. The man screamed.

"You shut the fuck up. I'm talking to the lady. And if you come back, I'll fucking kill you," he spoke directly into the whimpering man's ear in a disturbingly tranquil voice.

Devil or human, it made no difference to him. He would kill this guy in a heartbeat. He had every intention of acting on the threat if this asshole dared to return and harm his lovely neighbor. Some things are just too beautiful to be destroyed.

"You're going to regret this kid," the man in no position to make threats hissed through his teeth.

"Shut up," Denji growled, snapping the man's left ring finger. It was then the gold band caught his eye.

The woman flinched from the man's cries of agony.

"I'm sorry I made you so late for school," she apologized.

"No big deal," he assured her. He relaxed his grip on the man's arm because he had begun to cry. "Let's go asshole. Time for you to leave, pal."

"Can I at least get my shit and walk out on my own?" the man asked, refusing to move. He had already been humiliated enough and did not want to make it worse by being thrown out onto the street half naked and bleeding by a punk kid in a school uniform.

Denji glanced at his neighbor to see if she would agree to give the man the chance to pick up his clothes and what was left of his dignity. When she nodded, he let him go, but not before shoving him forward causing him to fall to his knees in front of her.

"Apologize before you go," he ordered the jerk gathering up his clothes and whining shamelessly.

Without hesitation, the man kowtowed at her feet, pressing his forehead to the floor at the tips of her toes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I will never bother you again," he swore. Sitting up, he hugged the bundle of expensive clothes to his chest. Once on his feet, the bare soles slapped on the tiles during his full throttle retreat down the hall.

"I really am sorry about all of this," she apologized again. "Do you have a favorite meal you would like for me to prepare for you?"

"Anything is fine. What time should I be over?"

"Six."

"See ya then."

As he walked down the hall, book bag slung over his shoulder, Denji could not stop smiling like a Cheshire Cat.

"Hey, neighbor!" she called out to him.

He halted, looking back over his shoulder at her. She was no longer smiling as she stood with her arms folded under her breasts. Had she changed her mind so quickly?

"Yeah?"

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Denji. What's yours?"

"Mari." She dropped her arms, giving him a smile and a wink. "See ya tonight, Denji."

He liked the sound of his name coming from her mouth.

~\'/~

At quarter til six, an impatient Denji knocked on his neighbor's door. He waited a few seconds and started pounding again when she did not immediately answer. In mid knock, the door was thrust open, smashing him in the nose. He stumbled backwards, warm salty liquid gushing from one of his nostrils. His nose wasn't broken, but it was bleeding profusely.

"Ooooh, my God! Denji!" she cried out, grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt to pull him inside. "I am so sorry."

His pointed tongue shot out licking the blood from above his upper lip.

"You've really got a thing for socking men in the nose don't you?" he teased her.

"I didn't mean to. Hurry up and sit down," she said, dragging him further into her apartment by the wad material still clutched in her hand. "Let me get you an ice pack."

"I don't need it," he assured, swiping at the blood with the back of his hand.

"Stop that," she chastised him as if he were an unruly child.

Taking him by the hand, seeming to not notice the blood on it, she pulled him through the living room. There was a black leather couch, a low table with cushions, and a flat screen TV sitting on top of a short bookshelf crammed full of books. She opened a door to pull him into the bathroom.

"Sit down," she ordered him, flipping down the toilet lid.

Denji did as she told him. He glimpsed around while she soaked a washcloth with cold water. The shower was nothing more than a showerhead jutting from the wall and a drain in the tile floor separated from the toilet and sink by a metal bar with a clear plastic curtain hanging on it. A lavender silk bra and matching panties hung from the towel bar affixed to the wall beside the shower.

He wondered if all of her bras and panties matched. Glancing at her as she began to dab away the blood from his face, he noticed she wore a pink button down dress shirt tied at her waist and short cut off denim shorts. Her legs and feet were bare. Her fingernail and toenail polish had been changed to a cotton candy pink, the same color of her shirt. He would bet money she wore underwear the same shade of pastel pink.

As she rinsed the blood out of the washcloth, he watched her face in the mirror. Her lips, shiny with pink lip gloss, were pressed together in a thin straight line. Wrinkles formed between her pinched together eyebrows.

He noticed the small white triangles poking out from amid her unruly, springy curls. He smiled to see the headband she wore had white cat ears with pink triangles in the middle of them. So cute! He blushed darkly when she turned back to him and caught him staring at her so intently.

"What?" she asked, smiling at him.

"You're so cute," he complimented breathlessly.

"Cute, huh?" she scoffed. Taking his hand, she started wiping at it furiously.

"Was I not supposed to call you cute?" he asked as she continued to roughly clean the blood from his hands.

She laughed lightly, pressing the fingertips of one of her hands to his cheek. Her fingers felt cool against his flushed skin.

"I've been called a lot of things by men but never cute." Her eyes met his directly. They were the palest shade of blue like a sun faded summer sky when it's so hot one feels like they are going to spontaneously combust. "Thank you for that, Denji."

"So, uhm," he said, his voice thick and his tongue clumsy. He cleared his throat when she turned back to the sink. "What did you cook for me?"

"Ramen. You hungry?" She caught his eyes in his reflection in the mirror.

"I'm always hungry."

"Well then, let's go eat since you're all cleaned up," she suggested, walking out of the bathroom.

Denji obediently followed. Although a little stuffed up from his swollen nose, he could still smell the delicious aroma of beef broth from his unimpeded nostril. He had been too distracted earlier to notice the glorious scent of the food. His eyes followed her path around the counter, the only thing separating the kitchen from the living area.

"Sit down," she invited him, indicating the bar stools positioned at the high counter.

He straddled one, watching her ladle the broth over the noodles.

"You cooked that yourself?"

"I did," she confirmed, picking up the slices of grilled pork belly to fan them over the top of the noodles.

"It smells great. And looks good too," he added as she placed the half of boiled egg in the bowl.

"Here ya go, " she said, setting the huge bowl of food on the counter in front of him. She held out a spoon to him. "Bon appétit."

"What does that mean?"

"It means good appetite in a literal translation. I'm sure you have a good appetite. It's something people say when they want you to enjoy your food."

"Then why not just say that?" he muttered irritably.

"Fair enough. Enjoy your food, my hero," she said, propping her elbow on the counter and placing her chin in her hand.

"I've been called a lot of things but never a hero," Denji said, giving her a broad grin.

"Touché," she returned. "Clever boy. Using my own words against me."

Denji could feel his face heating again. This time with pleasure. He had never been called clever either. He really liked this woman. She is nice and sweet and pretty.

He barely had to chew the pork belly that virtually melted in his mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned his approval. She is a damn good cook too.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked, observing her every move as she picked up the bottle of wine on the counter and poured it into a waiting glass.

"I've already eaten. I indulged while I was cooking. Every good cook knows you have to taste and taste many times while you're cooking," she said, raising her glass.

"I've never had wine. Can I have some?" Denji boldly requested.

Mari gazed at him for an uncomfortably long few seconds.

"Isn't there anything you haven't tried you want to experience for the first time?" he asked her, loudly slurping up some of his noodles.

Not much really. She exhaled noisily.

"There's plenty of things I haven't done, and I want to try all sorts of things. Come on. Just one sip."

She pursed her lips then extended the glass toward him.

"One sip," she told him sternly.

"One sip," he repeated, turning the glass to press his lips against the same place where hers had been. In a weird way it was a kiss by secondary association.

Denji allowed the burgundy colored fluid to fill his mouth. He emptied half the glass before swallowing it down with a gulp she could hear. It was like drinking vinegar with the burn of alcohol chasing it. It set his chest on fire. He grimaced and smacked his lips.

"That's gross," he muttered.

Mari traded the wine for a glass of water.

"It's an acquired taste," she said as if that would excuse the awful taste.

He would rather not acquire it. He downed the entire glass of water to get rid of the acidic taste of the wine.

"More," he demanded. When she glared at him, her eyebrow jumping with stunned disapproval at his deplorable manners, he added, " Please."

"You're a high school student?" she asked, refilling the glass from the bottle in the fridge. "Wasn't that a school uniform you were wearing this morning?"

"Yep. I mean yes," he corrected himself, accepting the full glass of cold water from her. "I'm not very smart though."

"Maybe you just need a tutor. I'd be happy to help. I'm no genius, but I'm pretty smart," she said, nursing her glass of wine.

"You would do that?"

"Sure. I'll even cook dinner for you," she offered as extra incentive. She shook a warning motherly finger in his face. "But you have to take it seriously and do your best."

Oh, so there's the catch. He would have to actually learn something and get good grades. It would be worth it it be close to her and eat good food.

"Or what?" It was his turn to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Hmph," she snorted, a lopsided grin tilting her lips. "I think I like you, kid."

Was she reminding him or herself of his age by calling him kid? Either way, he didn't care. He would definitely screw her if given the chance.

"How much?"

"Don't get any big ideas," she warned him, picking her glass to exit the kitchen area. "When you're finished, come sit with me. We can watch a movie. What kind of movies do you like?"

"How about a comedy?" he suggested.

He hated horror movies. Too many days he had lived through real life horror movie scenarios chasing and killing devils. He had observed far too many people he cared about dying tragic, gory deaths. Why watch a movie about all that crap? He wanted to laugh and be happy.

He wanted a girlfriend.

Denji cast a furtive glimpse over his shoulder at Mari. She was sitting sideways, half reclined on the stiff, straight backed couch that looked really uncomfortable. Her eyes were on the TV as she searched for something to watch so he continued to openly leer at her. When her head turned and her eyes met his, he looked away, turning his attention back to his food.

"Would you be opposed to a romantic comedy?" she asked.

"No," he replied quickly. Hopefully there would be a sex scene in it at least since it involved romance.

When he finished eating, he took his bowl to the sink before joining Mari. Denji remembered his manners as Hayakawa had always preached at him. Her disapproving expression earlier had reminded him to use good manners as well.

As he approached the couch, she sat up, patting the small space behind her while leaving her legs extended. After he sat down, she leaned her back against his arm and side. She wiggled, jostling him about a bit.

"Hmmm, this isn't very comfortable," she mumbled, sitting back up.

It was not exactly ideal, but he was not going to complain. He liked having her so close to him. He had been in much more uncomfortable positions before. For instance, when he offered to act as a chair for the girls at school. Of course he got paid for that but being able to look down Mari's loose fitting shirt and see her cleavage made him willing to sit in his present awkward position for free.

Twisting her upper body, she grabbed his arm and pulled it up. Bending his elbow over her shoulder, she tucked his forearm between her breasts. She sighed when she reclined against his chest that was halfway rotated toward her.

"That's better. Are you okay? Are you comfortable?" she asked.

Nobody ever cared or asked before about his comfort. He was accustomed to being ordered to do things, no matter how painful, and he did them. Being cuddled up to her like this was certainly not causing him any discomfort - except for the throbbing hard on between his thighs. Feeling her large breasts squeezing his forearm, he gritted his teeth to bear the ache of arousal. In this moment, he could not be happier.

When Mari was engrossed in the movie, Denji buried his nose in her hair to inhale the scent that had been teasing his nose since he got close to her. She smelled like peaches. The silky strands of her curls tickled his nose when he sniffed again.

Denji inhaled sharply when he felt her toying with the fingers of his hand lying limply on her abdomen. He watched as if it was someone else's hand she held and not his at all. She pressed the tips of her fingers against his, then lay the length of her fingers along his much longer digits. Finally, she slid her hand down a little to press her palm flat to his palm.

Notice their fingers. The length. The thickness. Are they warm? Or cold? Are their fingers smooth? Or calloused. Makima's words floated back to him on a memory he thought had been long forgotten.

His eyes studied Mari's fingers as they slipped off his to lace through them before curling around his hand to grip it. Her fingers were long but not as long as his. They were tapered, thin in comparison to his thick, square fingers. The tips of her long nails were square. The fingertips ever so slightly calloused. The palm smooth. Her hands were warm now; unlike earlier when they cold because she had them in the frigid tap water.

Denji turned her hand over to look at her ring finger since it was her left hand holding his. There was no ring.

"Was that man from this morning your husband?" he asked her.

"No. Not mine," she answered truthfully without offering further details.

He did not want to know more anyway. It was none of his business. Besides, who was he to judge her anyway? His goals in life had been overly simplistic, self-serving, shallow, and downright lecherous. He had not been too picky about who they were accomplished with either.

So far he had achieved the top two on his list of his salacious goals. Denji had groped Power's padded bosom three times. A thank you for saving her cat Meowy. She had counted down each fondle, giggling and making fun of him the entire time. She could not have possibly cared less about what was supposed to be an important event in his pathetic life.

He even got to feel up Miss Makima at her bidding which had been a heart stopping shock to him. Naturally she had quickly followed it up with a promise of sex if he killed the Gun Devil. Of course that was a promise she never intended to make good on.

He had received his first kiss from Himeno. Two kisses actually. One he would rather not remember though.

Despite those disasters, Denji still looked forward to losing his virginity. However, he did not want that experience to feel as hollow and disappointing. Makima had told him sex was much better with someone you genuinely love.

Oh, the irony. She was neither genuine, nor did she ever love him - or care about him in the slightest. Despite her betrayal, even when he realized she had been lying to him and manipulating him, he never stopped loving her.

Tilting his chin downward, he nuzzled into Mari's silky curls. He could care about this woman, but could she care about him? Did it even matter anymore really? Makima never loved him, but he still loved her even though he murdered her himself.

"Denji, look, if you think I'm a bad person, I understand," she sighed, sitting up to turn and look at him. Her eyes only held his briefly before she looked down, pretending to be interested in something on his t-shirt. She stalled by smoothing her fingers over the wrinkles she had put there earlier.

Why did she give a damn what he thought? No one ever cared what he thought about anything. This woman is very different from any other he had met so far.

He placed his hand over hers to stop her nervous movements. His eyes focused on her face, waiting for her to look at his face again. When her eyes finally reconnected with his, he smiled.

"I don't think you're a bad person," he said, squeezing her hand. "It's not wrong to want to be loved...to do anything to get that love. I understand."

Denji pressed the palm of his other hand to her cheek. Her skin was free of make up and velvety smooth as he glided the backs of his fingers across her cheek.

"Everyone wants to love and be loved in return," she agreed, placing her fingers on his cheek at the edge of his hairline. "We all want to be touched. Experience the affection of another."

Mari carefully pushed her fingers through his chaotic blond hair. Although he had washed it, he had not bothered to comb it. Using her fingers, she worked through some of the tangles almost petting him. She bit her lower lip as his intense brown eyes bore right into hers. Warmth flooded her insides, heating her from the inside out.

Mari doubted this young man had seen much affection in his lifetime. Presently, he is a teenager living by himself. There was a deadness in his eyes that gave her the impression he had been alone for a very, very long time before moving here. He had a pervasive sadness hiding under a veneer of indifference and a lack of social grace.

To be denied the simple pleasure of human affection could be devastating turning a person cold and bitter, full of hate. But he was still friendly, a little bit flirty. He craved the closeness of another.

There was something inside of him that frightened her. She learned from his actions this morning he is strong and capable of violence. He had broken a stranger's finger, and almost his arm, without much provocation.

He was still a bit wild having been left to his own devices to survive. A feral child with a desperate yearning for human connection. When she looked deeper into his eyes, she could see his ravaging need, the gnawing hunger. He was indeed starving.

"Denji," she whispered, stroking her fingers down his cheek to skim them along his jaw.

Her eyes lowered to his lips. Her thumb traced his lower lip. His jaw dropped, opening his mouth a little. She could clearly see his pointed teeth reminiscent of a shark's teeth. How strange and terrifying. She slipped her thumb over his bottom lip, the pad grazing those scary looking teeth. The edges did not cut her.

...recognize the bite of a lover so the next time you will know it's them. More of Makima's words haunted him.

Denji looked into Mari's almost colorless eyes as enclosed her thumb with his lips. He slowly, and ever so gently, permitted his teeth to sink into her finger. When her mouth opened, a little squeak escaping her, he relaxed his jaw, lessening the pressure. He did not want to hurt her. He just wanted her to remember his bite. The pad of her thumb lifted from his tongue before she withdrew the digit.

Mari's hand massaged his chest. Though thin, he was well built. She felt something odd in the center of his chest over his heart. Curiosity made her brazen, prompting her to lift his t-shirt. She gaped at the piece of string with a triangular shaped piece of metal on the end. It looked like the pull cord to a power tool.

"What is this?" she asked, running her fingers along the short length of cord.

"Don't," he snapped forcefully, laying his hand over hers and squeezing it to keep her from pulling the cord. When her eyes, wide with fright, met his, he said in a low voice,"Please don't pull it. I don't want to hurt you."

He dragged her hand away from the pull string. The last thing he would want to do is accidentally kill her.

"What..." The word was thick and garbled. She gulped loud enough for both of them to hear. Her eyes lowered from his to the cord sticking out of his chest. "What is that?"

There was no reason he shouldn't tell her who he really is - what he really is.

"I'm Chainsaw Man. I had a pet devil that became part of my body when I died. He saved me," he said, noting the color draining out of her face.

"Who? What? A pet what? You d-died? I-I d-don't understand," she stammered, sitting up straight. She braced her elbows on her knees, leaning over to hold her head between her hands.

"I'm what they call a hybrid. A devil fused with my body," he explained, wondering if she was going to faint. At least she was already sitting down. "He was my best friend. I died and, and, and, and he saved me...by becoming part of me. I can transform and use his powers to kill devils who want to hurt people."

"A devil? A devil!" Mari exclaimed, hopping up from the couch when he leaned toward her. "A devil was your best friend?"

Rather than retreating across the living room and cowering in fear or grabbing something to serve as a makeshift weapon, she stared down at him. Her eyebrows met to form one squiggly unibrow across her forehead. Appearing more confused than angry, she struggled to muddle her way through the shock fogging her brain to understand.

"A devil," she repeated as if talking to herself. She reached over the counter to grab the bottle of wine foregoing the glass as she guzzled it down. "A hybrid. A half devil. He has a pull cord in his chest." She tipped up the bottle again to empty it. "Chainsaw. Chainsaw man. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Mari? Are you okay?" Denji asked tentatively, standing up from the couch.

"Am I okay?" Her eyes, unfocused and glassy latched onto his face. She shrugged with one sharp movement of her shoulders upward, then giggled maniacally. "I'm fine. I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be fine? You, you, you, you're a devil. What's not perfectly normal about that?"

"I'm not a devil," he corrected her gently, edging toward the door. "Or a fiend. I'm still human. For the most part."

She unleashed another demented cackle, plopping down on one of the backless stools at the counter.

"For the most part," she mimicked but without mocking him.

"I think I'll just go now," he said, pointing toward the door.

Suddenly her clouded eyes cleared. She lunged toward him, blocking his escape route by extending her arms and spreading her legs in a wide stance.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not going to drop a psychological bomb like that then run out on me," she said, pressing her palm flat against his chest. Her fingers flexed, pressing into his chest to lift her palm away from the string.

"It's okay to touch it. Just don't pull it."

Her palm flattened back against his chest as if testing that out. She chewed her lower lip, keeping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"So is that his heart beating inside of you?" Mari inquired taking a hesitant step toward him.

"He became my heart when I died so I could live," Denji said, placing his hand over hers.

When her eyes raised to his they were watery and bloodshot, full of questions. Questions to which he did not know the answers.

"I don't really understand it myself. But I'm still human. I eat and sleep and shit just like any other man. I go to high school. I want to find a girlfriend. I want to...I want to..."

Mari watched his Adam's apple bob up and down convulsively as he swallowed several times.

"Denji."

She spoke in a rush of air as if she had been holding her breath. Not removing her hand from his chest, she closed the gap between them until her breasts grazed his upper abdomen when she inhaled. Placing her hand on the back of his neck, she pushed up on her tiptoes while pulling his head down to be nose to nose with him.

"Show me you're still human," she challenged him.

"How?" He placed his hands on her generous hips feeling the coarse fabric of the denim beneath his fingers.

"Kiss me."

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He was practically panting at the mere invitation for a kiss. His first and second kiss had been a bit emotionally scarring the first having Makima as a witness and the second involving vomit filling his mouth. Perhaps the third time truly would be the charm. And this time he was being asked to make the first move.

Denji slid his hands around her waist to interlock his fingers at the small of her back. Tilting his head to the right slightly, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, hoping for the best. He missed his target ever so slightly catching the corner of her mouth. Undaunted, he lifted his mouth and re-centered, fitting his mouth to hers this time with her lower lip positioned between his. Close enough.

Mari could feel his heart thumping against her palm. She cupped his jaw with her other hand, parting her lips slightly as she guided him into the kiss.

Every muscle in his abdomen clenched. Nausea welled inside of him when the tip of her tongue touched his lower lip. He might be the one to puke this time. Pushing aside the trauma of the past, he responded by open his mouth to permit her tongue entry.

When her tongue brushed across his, he could taste the wine but it was different this time. It was somehow sweeter and did not burn. His fingers gripped her hips, slipping under the edge of her shirt. Her skin was unexpectedly warm against his thumbs and forefingers. He moaned sucking on her tongue, getting a stronger taste of the wine.

Mari withdrew her tongue, slowly sinking down onto the soles of her feet which pulled her lips away from his. She pressed her forehead against his chin, closing her eyes. The kiss had left her dizzy and breathless. And she wasn't the only one. His heart still galloped like a runaway wild horse.

"You're heart still feels human. You still feel human. Unless there's a lust devil who can make me fall under its spell," she said in a breathy voice.

"I haven't found one of those kind of devils yet," he returned seriously, making her chuckle. The Control Devil was the closest devil he had encountered to something like that.

"You're very sweet, Denji." She slid her hand away from his chest and around to his back to hug him.

"So are you," he said, returning the sentiment and the hug.

"But you should be going for tonight," Mari advised, dropping her arms from around his shoulders and backing away from him.

"Oh, oh, o-o-k-kay," he stuttered uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

"However," she began, seizing his shirt for the third time in one night. Smiling up at him, she continued, "I do expect you back here tomorrow night with your books and ready to learn."

"And eat?" he ventured expectantly.

"And eat," she confirmed. She gave him a quick peck on his lips risking the temptation of taking him into her arms and giving him another kiss, longer and deeper this time. "Good night, Denji."

"Good night, Mari."

She held her breath while watching him walk away from her. If she had held onto him much longer, she wouldn't have allowed him to leave at all. She was not content to keep him here in her arms; she wanted to take him by the hand and lead him to her bedroom.

A warm sensation blossomed in her heart when she noted him turning the lock before walking out and closing the door behind himself. Who would've thought a man-devil hybrid could be so sweet and have the desire to protect humans?

Her fingers traced her lips that tingled all over again when she recalled their kiss. He wanted to be loved. Plain and simple. And she wanted to love him.