First rule of sneaking: Don't get caught.

With a hiss, the door slid open while I was on my knees, peering under the writing desk. Damn it, I'd stopped listening for his footsteps and the clack of armor that would have warned me he was close by. I jerked backward, but it was far too late to run, even had I been able to.

Second rule of sneaking: Plausible deniability.

"What are you up to?" Shingen magically teleported from the doorway to loom over me. (Ok that's a lie. He walked. Fast. On those long powerful legs).

Triumphantly, I pulled the puzzle out from below the desk and waved it at him. "It bounced under." All afternoon, the burr puzzle had been taunting me from where it sat prominently on the desk, just begging me to take it apart and reassemble it. Was it any wonder that in my boredom, I succumbed to temptation?

Third rule of sneaking: Act like you've done nothing wrong.

"The puzzle was on the desk." Shingen continued to gaze down at me, as I awkwardly rearranged myself so that my butt wasn't in his direct line of sight.

Not going to argue with that one. "This is true."

"While the desk is across the room from the futon." The deceptively mild tone of voice was at odds with the storm clouds in his eyes. Forecast: lecture to follow.

I made a show of looking from the futon to the desk. "Why, yes, I believe it is."

He knelt to my level, and slid his hand under my chin, angled my face to bring us eye to eye. "While you are not currently resting on said futon."

"Hm, no, I'm not. How clever of you to-" He silenced me with one finger to my lips, the touch gentle despite his interruption.

"Clever enough to be aware that the definition of strict bed rest requires being in the bed, and not, on the other side of the room." He carefully scooped me up into his arms, skillfully avoiding disturbing the splint that kept my probably-sprained-really-not-broken-I-was-sure ankle stiff and motionless. "I know you cannot fly, Devil. Therefore, you clearly defied medical orders and walked across the room."

Technically… I did not.

I hopped.

Actually.

Fourth rule of sneaking: Distract, distract, distract!

"You smell nice." I kissed the underside of his jaw. Not even a lie. He smelled like cedar and pine.

Unfortunately, I learned most of my distraction techniques from Shingen himself; therefore, deploying them against him was basically useless.

"I thought I could trust you not to endanger the healing process." He held me tighter against him. "In a few more days, and you'll be up and around, ready to fall out of trees again."

Three days earlier…

"I didn't fall," was the first thing out of my mouth as Yoshimoto helped me limp into the room. It had taken Shingen over a year to stop making unsubstantiated claims about me 'falling' out of trees – just my luck that someone else's clumsiness would put that phrase back into circulation.

While Shingen hurried to take over my weight, Yoshimoto proceeded to tell the story of the accident he'd witnessed: one of Kasugayama's merchants had slipped on the icy walkway, skidded right into, then onto me. By the time the onlookers dug me out from under the well-fed man, the initial snap of agony had settled into throbbing pain.

Noting my gritted teeth, Shingen scooped me into his arms and transferred me to the futon. He settled my foot in his lap – my ankle had swollen to the size of an overripe plum. "You didn't carry her?"

After biting back a yelp of pain when he touched the my bruised foot, I defended Yoshimoto. "He did offer. But the last thing I want is to listen to him complain for the next five years that I got mud all over his best kimono." I also hadn't wanted to be toted through town like a sack of rice.

Yoshimoto held out his arm – revealing the streaks of mud on the delicate fabric. "Unfair! This isn't even my fourth best kimono. If you'd gotten mud on my favorite, I would have complained for ten years." He turned his attention to Shingen. "It's so slippery out there that I was afraid if I forcefully tried to pick her up, I'd fall too and injure her further. In any case, she claims it's just a sprain – but I did send for Toshiie to come take a look at it."

He had? I must have missed that. "That's really not necess- ow!" Shingen had peeled back my sock, and even that mild jostling had sent a wave of pain through me… which pretty much negated any of the 'I-don't-need-a-healer' arguments I might have made.

About an hour later, my brother trundled in, grumbled about a lack of access to any imaging machinery that would have given him a definitive diagnosis, and pronounced it either sprained or broken.

"Wow. How did I ever get along without your vast medical knowledge?" I sighed. "Tosh, it's a sprain. If it were broken, I'd be in a lot more pain."

He ignored me and splinted my ankle. "Stay in bed and keep your foot elevated for a week. If the swelling is gone by then, it was a sprain, and you can slowly resume activity. If not, it'll likely take another six weeks to heal." He gave Shingen a significant look. "Make sure she avoids all activity."

All activity? All?

The fifth rule of sneaking: If caught by the smartest, sneakiest warlord in the castle, apologize and accept your punishment…

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I won't do it again." I attempted meek contrition.

"Of course, you'll do it again. I owe most of my grey hairs to your exploits." He set me down on the futon, then put my splinted ankle up on the pillow block.

"You don't have any gr-." He ducked his head toward me and flipped over a lock of hair. "Huh. So, you do."

"I thought I left the desk closer to the futon." He shrugged out of his armor, moving easily from warrior to naked to casual kimono.

Wait… let's rewind to the naked…

"You did. The maid moved it when she came in to clean, and I didn't notice until after she was gone." Aside from the puzzle, there was a stack of reports that I had been reading and organizing for him.

"You could have asked a page to bring it back." He grabbed the kettle and hung it over the firepit. "I arranged a gift for you, and you repay me by disobeying doctor's orders."

"Is your gift related to what's under your kimono?" Normally I wouldn't have been that brazen - three days of doing nothing but reading had gone right to my mouth.

He simply grinned at that. A moment later, the door slid open again and two pages carried in a square wooden tub. They were followed by several maids lugging kettles of steaming water.

Ok. Yes. Bath. Awesome gift. "I love you."

He settled next to me and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "I take it that my daredevil Goddess approves this tribute to her magnificent splendor?"

Magnificent splendor was a bit over the top, especially since I probably still had some mud from the other day on me – but this was Shingen, and his 'magnificent splendor' was anyone else's 'kinda cool' (or Yukimura's 'dummy'). "I completely approve." The anticipation of a bath made me feel even grubbier than before. Somehow, I managed to sit patiently until the tub was filled and the servants filed out, whispering and giggling amongst themselves.

Shingen was unwilling to risk further injury to my ankle or damage to the splint, so he helped me undress – and by 'helped' I mean, 'made sure that the removal of clothing included the maximum amount of ambient touching.' Then he carried me to the tub and had me dip my hand in to test the temperature. "What do you think. Too hot? Too cold?"

"I'm far less fussy than Goldilocks, therefore… just right." I sighed happily as he lowered me into the tub, then sighed in the bliss of hot water. Though the tub wasn't very deep, the maids had filled it high enough so that I was semi-submerged, and it was close enough to the firepit to keep me toasty warm.

The winter sun was already setting, darkening the room around the edges. Shingen lit a lantern, and the reflected glow of its flame flickered across the surface of the bath water. Only the giant splint on my ankle ruined the utter romance of the setting.

"Who is Goldilocks?" Shingen helped me prop my injured foot over the side, moving the desk again so that I'd have something to rest it on. Then he poured a small amount of oil into the water – ah ha, that was where that scent of cedar and pine had come from.

"Oh. Another fairy tale." I reached for the sponge that arrived with the tub, but Shingen grabbed it first.

"Let me. Your only task is to relax and enjoy." He dipped the sponge in the water. "If you want, you could tell me the story of this Goldilocks."

I was certainly deft enough to manage a bath on my own, even with the heavy splint on my leg, but the feeling of the soft sponge and warm water gently brushing across my cheeks and forehead felt too good for me to bother with a protest. "Alright. Once upon a time, there was a naughty little girl named Goldilocks."

That was as far as I got before Shingen interrupted. He never has been able to listen to a story without adding his own spin to it.

"How naughty? Would Goldilocks enjoy something like this?" He swiped the sponge across my breasts – just once, but even that featherlight touch sent shivers through me.

"Um. Selfish, impolite, didn't listen to her parents." And yes, likely naughty enough to want more of that sponge action. Who wouldn't? "One day, instead of going to school like a good little girl-"

"Mm, I seem to recall you telling me that you used to do the same thing." He lightly pinched my nipple – enough to send a little zing all the way through me.

Yes. Yes, I had said that. Memory like an elephant, this one.

"Anyway." I pulled the story back on track. "She went to play in the woods."

"Ah ha. We're in the woods again. Did she encounter that wolf?" He lathered up the sponge and slowly ran it along my arm, finishing the trek by lightly massaging my hand from palm to fingertips. He repeated the actions on my other arm, helping me release some of the tension my forced inactivity had built.

"No, she-"

"Pity. I liked that wolf." He cupped his hands, dipped them in the water, and rinsed my shoulders. The warm water poured over me, sliding down my chest. Shingen skimmed along one of the water trails with his finger, then brushed a droplet off my breast.

I liked that wolf too. "Goldilocks found a cottage in the woods and after peeking into the windows, she opened the door and walked right in."

"Hm, have you considered the possibility that rather than being a badly-behaved little girl-" Shingen leaned close and whispered in my ear, "that Goldilocks might have been a spy?"

Hm. That… actually made sense. "As it happened, the cottage was owned by three bears. Big Bear. Middle Bear. Wee Bear."

"Presuming that as this is another children's fable, they weren't in a bear menage." That sponge dipped into the water again, lathered up, then traveled slow circles around my breasts. After this bath, I was likely to have the cleanest boobs in Japan.

"Hardly. Or… 'bear-ly'?" I shrieked when he flicked water at my face. "The bears had made hot porridge for breakfast, then gone out for a walk while it cooled."

"I wonder why they didn't just… blow… on it." He leaned forward and sent a light stream of air sweeping across my nipples.

"Because there wouldn't be a story. Or, an interrogation, which is what this is starting to feel like." Two sentences. Just let me get through two sentences.

"Lean forward." I did so and felt water sluicing down my spine. Then again, that brush of the sponge across my neck and shoulders, while the woodsy scent of the oil permeated my senses. If this spymaster thing didn't work out for Shingen, he might consider opening a spa. Spamaster. "Were this an interrogation, you'd be well aware of it."

Good point. In the past, I'd been subject to interrogations by both Shingen and Mitsuhide, and neither occasion had been this pleasant. The latter had left me with a migraine that lasted hours (in all fairness, pretty sure Mitsuhide would say the same). "Anyway. Miz Goldilocks sees the food, goes to the table, sits in Big Bear's seat, and samples his porridge."

"You were correct. She's rather naughty." He massaged my neck and shoulders, then I felt his lips and tongue against the nape of my neck as he nibbled on the increasingly tender flesh. "I'm sure you would never do anything like that. Or anything that would deserve this." He nipped at my ear.

Oh, I like to think I would deserve this. "Goldilocks thought Big Bear's porridge was too hot. Then she tried Middle Bear's porridge and thought it was too cold. But Wee Bear's porridge was just right. So, she ate it all up."

"One could say that it was the bear's fault for leaving their food out. Some things are just… too much of a temptation, Devil." He reached forward to cup my breasts, his thumbs dancing over the tips until they hardened under his touch.

I took a deep breath… and then another, then managed to continue. "One might also point out that they couldn't have expected a naughty little girl to walk right into their home."

"I don't know why not. There seems to have been a plethora of naughty little girls running wild in those woods." He dropped the sponge (accidentally?). It splashed between my legs. After rolling up his sleeve, he dunked his arm in, swirling water everywhere as he rooted around for the errant sponge.

"Having eaten her fill, Goldilocks went into the next room, where the bears' chairs were all lined up. Ahm. That… was not the sponge." He caught my eye, and held my gaze, his expression intent and wicked as he pulled the sponge up through my legs. "Goldilocks sat in Big Bear's chair, but it was too high. So, she tried Middle Bear's chair, but it was too low. Wee Bear's chair was just right, but as soon as she sat down, it broke underneath her."

"She shouldn't have eaten all that porridge." He rubbed the sponge across that sensitive flesh between my thighs and my brain temporarily shut down. "Go on. What did she do next?" Another caress. "I'm waiting."

I glared at him to let him know I knew exactly what he was doing. "All that food made her sleepy, so she went upstairs into the bears' bedroom-"

"One bedroom? Perhaps it was a bear menage after all." To my disappointment and relief, he stopped teasing me. Instead, he took hold of my non-injured foot, washed it thoroughly, then massaged my toes.

Not wanting to get sidetracked into the mechanics of ursine sexual practices, I continued the story. "She lay down on Big Bear's bed, but it was too hard. Then she tried Middle Bear's bed, but it was too soft."

"Highly unlikely anything here would be too soft." He took my hand and guided it along the length of him – I had to agree, no one would ever call that soft.

"Then she found Wee Bear's bed, and it was … just right." I took the opportunity to fondle his own just-rightness and smiled to myself when his eyes darkened. Serves you right. "Perfect, in fact. She lay down and went to sleep." I leaned back and closed my eyes, not out of sleepiness. I was awake – but simply too caught up in the sensations of the water, the sharp woodsy scents, and him.

Always him.

"Was that the end? Or do the bears come home, take her prisoner, and force her to live out her life in a bear menage?" He tickled the bottom of my good foot, startling me out of my haze. When I opened my eyes, I saw him holding out that familiar blanket-towel.

"You still use that?" I accepted his hand, as he helped me up and over the edge of the tub.

"Too many lovely memories to ever give it up." He cocooned me in the blanket, pulled me close, his heat warming me through the fabric.

Hm, true enough. "The bears did come home, in fact. Angry that she ate their food and broke their furniture, when they found Goldilocks asleep in Wee Bear's bed… they ate her."

"I was right. Bear menage." He carried me back to the futon. "I imagine they all lived happily ever after – sampling each other's porridge."

"No punishment for breaking and entering, stealing their food, and destroying their furniture?" I propped myself up on my elbows, ignoring that the movement had caused the towel to slip down.

Shingen finished the job gravity started and pulled the towel aside. "One person's punishment is another's reward." He pressed his mouth to my stomach. "Would you consider what happened to Goldilocks punishment?" He slid further down my body. "Or… reward?"

I couldn't possibly manage to respond to that verbally, especially when he moved further down, between my thighs, his tongue and mouth hot against me. Any answer I might have had turned into a swift intake of breath.

"I'll translate that as reward," he whispered, and the warmth of his breath tickled my skin. Then he licked long and slow across me, and I arched into his mouth. "What do you think. Was that too slow?"

Without waiting for my response, he increased the pace – short, sharp flicks vibrating through my core. I grabbed the sheet, trying to find a grip, the angle, but I couldn't with my foot wrapped awkwardly in the splint. "Or, too fast?"

Wishing I could find balance with my swollen ankle, I thrashed around until Shingen comprehended my predicament. He took hold of my hips with both hands, holding me still, before pushing his mouth on me once more.

I gasped and jerked against him, but his grip was firm. Solid.

Just right.

The 'too fast' and the 'too slow' combined, pace alternating as he swirled his tongue, finding pockets of nerve endings, lips kissing and sucking. My body reacted instinctively, with an unsatisfied urge to writhe at his touch. His strong hands kept me securely in place, refusing to permit any movement at all. My ankle would have thanked him, but the rest of me sank below the surface of that exquisite torture, riding the wave of sensation.

Too slow… too fast… I felt the pressure building taller, then receding, as he would pause…

…allowing the wave to shrink…

… before again building it up, forcing each swell to build taller than the last, all the while holding me firmly – I had no choice but to breathe into it-

Rising…

Falling…

Then at last, he pushed me to the heights - the wave crested and finally broke, and I exploded calling his name, crashing onto the shore…

As the final wave receded, he pulled me into his arms, cradling me softly against him.

Then, he rested his head in the crook of my neck. "Just right?"

"Yes." I took his hands, curling into him. "Just right."

The sixth rule of sneaking: Ignore first rule.