.
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Bishamon really liked hugging Kazuma. Whenever she hugged him, his shirt would crinkle as she pressed into his body, and she could feel warm, pliant skin beneath the starched fabric. He smelled like cologne and clean linen and he had the habit of resting his chin against her shoulder.
There were other things too that she liked: how, if he went to bed before her, he would lie curled up on his side, hugging a pillow to his chest and pressing it against his face. There was something sweetly innocent about it, like a child holding his favorite toy, and invariably whenever she would climb into bed and spoon against his back, he would turn and drape his arm over her, cuddling her half-asleep.
In front of the others, he was the consummate professional, never once betraying a hint that they were in a romantic relationship. But increasingly Bishamon noticed how he would touch her when no one was looking: a subtle brush of his forearm against her elbow, a gentle tap of his shoe against the sole of her foot. If it were any other shinki besides Kazuma, she would think those touches were completely accidental. But they weren't, and sometimes she would glance his way and see the trace of a smile on his lips, so subtle that if you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't catch it.
He blushed easily and often; in private he was affectionate but also incredibly shy. She made it a point to never turn him away when he reached out for her. He had spent the last millennia in a lonely celibacy. Making love to him was the least she could do.
(Not that it was some great sacrifice. She enjoyed their lovemaking, the look of utter devotion on his face and the soft sounds he made when he was inside her.)