A miracle has occurred and I am updating again!
Special Kudo's to Scarlet Rook and Kitty Lynne for letting me bounce ideas off of them. Scarlet Rook has been kind enough to Beta for me for now—KL may still do so in the future, so if/when that happens the chapters will be updated. For now, I am letting you know as my chapters are going to sound and feel a little different with this change in Beta's. Scarlet is amazing, but KL's additional experience in writing fanfic romance just puts her in a whole different level than Scarlet or I on our own. Soooo frankly some of these chapters may seem a little more… porny than they may have otherwise. Once I'm done I'd like to eventually edit the entire thing so it flows a little better but I'm sure most of you will be fine with it as is.
Much love to Kilataia, Lady Aurora Nocturne, Stormlight, and ThatPageantGirl who haven't given up on this story even though my updates have been few and far between lately. I always love seeing your familiar "faces" and seeing what you have to say! Also, hello to new reader Bridgey!
Chapter 14 is partly done! I am a hospice nurse, so while I am certainly not on the "front lines" right now with Covid, I am trying really hard not to help spread it. My mother lives with my husband and I and luckily has her own space/entry to the house if needed. My husband travels and works on machines that test for Covid so our possibility for infection is higher than I would like. Luckily our area has not been affected as much as the larger cities, but peak infection won't be for another couple of weeks.
I hope the rest of you can stay safe during these crazy times. On with the fic!
Art of Love
Red Courage
Chapter 13
Miaka sighed, nuzzling her face into the hollow of Chichiri's throat in the dim lamplight. He made a mewling sound at her touch, fingers kneading into her hip possessively. Miaka squeaked in return, too tired to manage much else. Her body felt warm, a soft buzz lit her from the inside out, even though every muscle protested even the idea of moving. The light played across Chichiri's chest, emphasizing his lean musculature still damp with sweat.
"Get some sleep, Priestess." Slinging his free arm over his face to block out the offending light, Chichiri tugged Miaka closer, nestling her more firmly against his thigh and the space between his arm and chest. Miaka flushed at the close and blatantly possessive contact, noting Chichiri somehow managed to be both wrapped around her and take over the bed, long legs splayed out across the majority of it. Somehow, this slight bit of hypocrisy didn't surprise Miaka one bit. He'd always managed to be the one nearest her during battle, holding and guarding her while the others ran headlong into the fray.
Miaka felt strangely satisfied knowing she'd managed to tire him out as thoroughly as he had her. However, she was not about to let Chichiri go back to using her title to distance himself from her all the time. She pinched his ribs, just hard enough to get his attention.
He lifted his arm to peer at her from beneath his elbow. "What was that for?"
"My name is Miaka." She said sternly, narrowing her eyes for emphasis.
Chichiri's lone eye softened. "Miaka."
Stretching, Miaka planted a firm kiss along his jaw and settled down with a sigh, closing her eyes. She wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but when she woke the sun was streaming through the white cotton curtains. Chichiri was already awake, but had only moved so far as to prop himself up on an elbow as he watched her.
"Good morning," Miaka grinned and stretched, tugging the sheets up around her chest self-consciously.
Chichiri's pupil dilated, and the hand at her back twitched—as did a part of his anatomy currently resting against her leg. He closed his eye and groaned deeply as his hips shifted into hers firmly only to pull back with a hissed curse followed by, "I want you."
Miaka gaped up at him, her heart pounding at his lurid admission. She'd never dreamed to hear anything so bold from Chichiri of all people. "I want you too," She breathed.
Chichiri caught his breath, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Miaka…We can't…"
"I know it sounds crazy," Miaka looked away demurely for a moment to allow Chichiri to collect himself. She wanted nothing more than to pull her Seishi over top of her again in a repeat of last night. "But I feel so strongly about you, about all of you, that I can't just open myself up like this for one night and then forget about it…About you. I know we can't do this again until we summon Suzaku, but I hope you'll consider the idea of us…" she stumbled over her next words, "building a relationship together."
Miaka squeezed her eyes shut. As close as she felt with Chichiri after last night, broaching the topic of what might happen after the ceremony was terrifying.
There was silence, and Miaka eventually felt compelled to crack an eye to find Chichiri staring down at her seriously. "What about the others?"
"That's just it. If I'm going to be with you this way to summon Suzaku… and then live with all of you as immortals on Mount Taikyoko…I don't think I can give any of you up." She bit her lip. "I know it's selfish of me, but it's the way I feel." She looked down. "Of course, if you aren't comfortable with that I understand. But I thought… The way everyone's been acting since we learned about the ceremony, maybe it's not such a crazy idea after all?"
Chichiri's lips pressed together in thought. The longer he took to respond, the more nervous Miaka became. Finally, he breathed a sigh, reaching out to cup the back of her head and pulling her forward to rest his forehead against hers, and laughed.
Miaka swallowed, unsure what was so funny and a little insulted. "Well you don't need to laugh at me about it. A simple, 'no thank you' would have been fine!" She sniffed.
Chichiri's laughter continued even as he rolled Miaka onto her back, his hand still cradling the back of her head. He finally managed to gain control of himself again as he hovered over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress in a most unseemly manner. "I told you before that this wasn't just about duty for me, and I meant it." His gaze bored into hers with a sudden intensity. "I would have been happy to keep the memory of last night with me for the rest of my life. If you are willing to have me, I would be honored to love you for as long as you want me."
Without waiting for a response, Chichiri kissed her, his fingers tightening in her hair when she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him the rest of the way down.
The two of them kissed languidly until a distant bang sounded, causing Miaka to break away from Chichiri with a distracted mewl. A chuckle from Chichiri made her blush as the echo of voices drifted upstairs.
"Tasuki and Hotohori are up, no da. They've been back for a while now. Maybe they're making breakfast?"
"Oh." Miaka bit her lip, turning to check the time and seeing that it was well past breakfast time. Her stomach gave a heavy gurgle in protest at this latest mistreatment and Chichiri gave her a gentle nudge as he rolled out of bed and made his way towards the bathroom.
"Let's get cleaned up." Chichiri smiled. "We need to get you fed."
After returning to her own room to get cleaned up and dressed, Miaka enthusiastically followed the delectable smell of sizzling eggs and bacon as she made her way to the kitchen. The idea of facing the others after what she'd done with Chichiri the night before had her slightly nervous. Would they look at her differently now? She certainly felt different—somehow relaxed and energized all at once, and she wondered if it would show.
Miaka sighed, adjusting her top and smoothing her skirt nervously as she neared the kitchen. Chichiri had gotten a little excited last night and left a love bite between her neck and shoulder. The collar of her shirt covered it nicely for now, but tonight when she and Hotohori performed the next step in the ritual, he would be sure to see it. Hotohori was not known for his overtly jealous nature, but Miaka had to wonder if such blatant evidence of her having been with another man would be an issue.
A heavy drawn out groan of pain sounded as Miaka rounded the corner, revealing Tasuki perched on a barstool at the breakfast bar. The bandit sprawled forward, head pillowed on one arm with the other clamped over his face, forehead pressed against the cool stone countertop. Hotohori slid a glass of a sickly green brew of some sort across the counter with the attitude of a long-suffering bartender.
"Tasuki, what happened? Are you sick?" Miaka asked, concern lacing her voice.
"Mmmiaka." Tasuki murmured, lifting his head just enough to peek blearily at her beneath his elbow before closing it in defeat. "Mern'in."
Nudging the glass closer, Hotohori narrowed his eyes and commanded firmly, "Drink."
Shooting her second Seishi a questioning look, Miaka laid a comforting hand on Tasuki's back, feeling his aura reach out to her and his body relax at even the small amount of contact.
Hotohori immediately rounded the counter to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Good morning." His voice softened considerably, his energy passing over her, and Tasuki by proximity, in comforting waves. "You must be hungry," he added, nudging the glass closer to Tasuki yet again.
Predictably, Miaka's stomach growled and Hotohori grinned affectionately. "If you make sure Tasuki drinks that, I'll finish making breakfast."
Miaka perked up and nodded at the mention of food. Seating herself on the bar stool next to him, she rubbed Tasuki's back comfortingly as the bandit emitted a low steady moan of pain. After a moment or so, Tasuki managed to prop himself up enough to squint at the concoction Hotohori had placed in front of him. "Wassat?"
"Hangover cure," Hotohori said simply, turning his attention back to the stove where a pan of bacon and eggs was frying next to a pot of boiling rice. "Trust me, you'll feel better."
Tasuki eyed the glass distrustfully. "I dunno. You're the one who got me into this mess."
Hotohori raised an eyebrow, pointing the spatula in Tasuki's direction matter-of-factly. "It's not my fault you overdid it on deceptively fruity concoctions at that bar. I tried to warn you."
Tasuki huffed, finally downing the brew in an impressively short time. Miaka held back a gag, reminding herself to never drink so much she required the help of something so disgusting. Managing to keep it down, Tasuki shoved the glass away from himself and returned to his hunched over position, gratefully leaning into Miaka's touch. "You could have tried harder." He whined.
"You challenged me to a drinking contest," Hotohori scoffed, plating the finished foods and setting them aside until the rest were finished.
"I said a manly drinking contest. Not this girly fruity shit that doesn't even taste like alcohol." Tasuki groused. "You tricked me."
"What on earth did the two of you get up to last night?" Miaka gawked, trying to imagine the bandit and the former Emperor engaged in a drinking contest of any sort.
"We went to a bar to pass the time." Hotohori explained matter-of-factly as he passed Miaka and Tasuki each a plate. "There are several within walking distance. I thought it would be an opportunity to get to know each other again, since we never really got the chance after our return to Konan before the failed summoning." His eyes were soft as Miaka immediately dug into her food, nudging Tasuki gently into starting on his own.
"If you don't eat it, I will," She threatened.
Taking a tentative bite, Tasuki grunted his approval, shifting to guard his plate with a shoulder, just in case Miaka followed through on her threat. Hotohori's pleased expression sent a warm feeling of happiness through Miaka. Seeing him alive and happy was better than anything she could have imagined.
"Did you guys have a good time?" Miaka prodded, horribly curious at how Hotohori seemed completely unaffected from a night of drinking and Tasuki was the one who'd been incapacitated. She would've bet money that it would have been the other way around.
"This doesn't look like fun to you?" Tasuki teased, glancing over at Hotohori and earning a snicker in response.
Miaka eyed Tasuki reproachfully. "Well, I don't know if I'd call having a hangover fun."
The bandit chuckled softly as he sat up straighter, his eyes brighter already. "It's been a long time since I've lost a drinking contest." His amber gaze slid to Hotohori as he finished up with the stove. "I'm no lightweight, and I assumed His Highness over there wouldn't have had much experience."
Hotohori snorted softly. "You assumed too much." He shot Miaka a slightly wicked grin. "Remember, I've had a whole other life here. I'm not the sheltered Emperor I once was."
Tasuki frowned. "Well you can be sure I won't make the same mistake twice! Back in Konan we never really got to speak on equal terms after I realized you were the Emperor. Especially with the way things shook out after Hokkan."
"That is true, my friend," Hotohori nodded, delicately eating his own meal. "But now, we of the Suzaku Seven will have all the time in the world to get to know one another." His voice lowered a fraction as he cast a glance at Miaka. "As friends and more."
Miaka smiled back softly as she continued to run her hand over Tasuki's back comfortingly, glad for Hotohori's reassurance and support. Tasuki closed his eyes, leaning into her touch with a sound that almost sounded like a purr.
"Good morning, no da!" Chichiri's voice startled the three of them as the monk bustled into the room. His chi was depleted enough he'd managed to sneak up on them without notice, a fact which made Miaka blush with the memory of exactly how that had happened.
Miaka and the other two Seishi returned the cheerful greeting. Chichiri's ran an affectionate hand over Miaka's hair as he hopped onto the bar stool next to her. Hotohori wordlessly handed Chichiri the last plate of food he'd prepared. The monk's mouth opened in surprise, but he chirped a grateful "Thanks, your Highness," and gleefully set about demolishing the plates contents in a fashion that managed to horrify Miaka and also make her sort of proud. She thought she'd been the only one able to eat that fast.
"Worked up an appetite, did ya?" Tasuki said wryly.
"Daaaaa," was Chichiri's only response as he finished off the last of his food. When he was done, he set his utensils down with an appreciative sigh. "Thank you, Your Highness. When did you learn to cook?"
Hotohori looked pleased, the bridge of his nose coloring slightly. "If you must know, I've spent a fair amount of time leading a sheltered life both in this life as well. Other people have always done everything for me. Once I left home I found it cathartic and empowering to learn do things for myself."
"Well you do a very good job." Miaka patted Tasuki's back a couple of times before she pulled her hand away from Tasuki's back. The bandit whined at the loss of contact but was looking much better now that Hotohori's hangover cure had had some time to work. Miaka jumped to her feet and began collecting the used dishes and utensils. "I've been meaning to do the very same thing," she admitted.
Hotohori's face lit up as he stood to help her. "Perhaps I can teach you! After a lifetime of having other people wait on me, I've found great satisfaction out of using my new skills to care for other people."
"Well you can use those skills anytime as far as I'm concerned." Tasuki patted his stomach in contentment. "I know I'll appreciate it!"
"That's because all you know how to cook is traveling rations." Chichiri's innocent comment stunned Tasuki into silence for a moment, but then the bandit broke out into a hearty guffaw.
"Well you ain't wrong, Chiri! You ain't wrong."
Miaka smiled as she listened to the two traveling companions bicker back and forth. Hotohori listened with interest as well, an amused smirk tweaking his full lips in a perpetual smile as he dried and put away the items as she finished washing them. Being together like this just seemed so natural, somehow, she wondered how she'd managed these past five years without them. The time between when she last saw them and now almost seemed like a dream.
"Did you really drink Tasuki under the table?" Miaka couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice. The idea just seemed so ludicrous; she almost didn't believe it.
"Not quite." Hotohori glanced at her slyly. "Tasuki is used to drinking sake or beer. He'd never had a cocktail before. He didn't believe me when I warned him after his second Peach of My Heart that it was a lot stronger than what he was used to." He imitated the bandits distinctive Kansai accent, "Nothing that tastes like candy can be stronger than straight sake!"
Miaka stifled a giggle at the image. "And you didn't bother to correct him?"
"Nope." The wicked gleam was back in his eye again. "He was impressed when I downed a double because it smelled so strong." He shook his head.
"So you're just letting him think you won?" Miaka tsked. "Rude."
Hotohori raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one recovering from a blistering hangover, so in all fairness, I think I did win." There was silence for a moment before he added in a low voice, "I also let him think I beat him at arm wrestling."
Miaka shook her head. "Boys."
Since it was a workday, Miaka called in, citing a stomach bug that she 'just couldn't risk spreading to her coworkers or students' at the library. Mitsukake promised to write her a note ensuring she would have off the rest of the week as per Taitsukun's instructions.
Tamahome and the others agreed to stay away for the most part for the first few days as Miaka and the first three Seishi in line for the ritual became acclimated with one another. Surprisingly, this was Tamahome's idea—he worried having too many Seishi around would be overwhelming for Miaka. Miaka couldn't help but be thankful for the suggestion. This way, Miaka could focus on Hotohori and their part in the ritual without her mind wandering.
Not that she really expected it to be a problem. Hotohori frequently demonstrated he had a way of capturing Miaka's attention and hanging onto it. Though he'd toned it down in the presence of her other Seishi, his tendency to shower her with various small demonstrations of his affection throughout the day remained evident. A press of his fingers at the small of her back as he moved past her, or the weight of his heated gaze from across the room. All of it set Miaka's insides aflame, even as Hotohori and she continued to interact with Chichiri and Tasuki as though nothing was amiss.
Chichiri reminded her gently at one point that even though she'd showered this morning she still had to partake in a purifying bath before each ritual. Miaka did as he asked, but made a mental note to remember to just take her purifying bath in the morning after she woke up—her skin would dry out horribly if she bathed twice a day all week!
She was sure the monk and bandit could sense the unspoken tension between herself and Hotohori though. Chichiri in particular seemed to keep finding reasons to leave them alone together or otherwise force interactions or even remove Tasuki from the room as well. Miaka realized, quite suddenly, that this wasn't the first time the monk had done this. In fact, he'd actually made a habit of pushing her towards Hotohori (even though she was openly with Tamahome) every so often when they were back in Konan.
Miaka would have to ask him about that, someday. Had he simply been trying to help the two of them confront their unresolved feelings for one another? Before they'd left for Hokkan, Miaka had outright told Hotohori she wasn't in love with him—"I like you, but I'm not in love with you."
At the time, Miaka had thought she'd been telling the absolute truth, but now she wondered if Chichiri had known something she hadn't. Had she been lying to herself, even then?
As natural as being with all three of her Seishi felt, Miaka was grateful when Chichiri and Tasuki made their exit with Tetsuya that afternoon. They'd been in Tokyo long enough they probably would have been alright on their own, but knowing her friend would be keeping an eye on the two of them was comforting. Especially after learning about Tasuki's mistake with the tasty cocktails the night before.
Miaka felt a stab of sadness that her brother wasn't going along as she waved goodbye to Tetsuya and her Seishi. Hotohori waved as well, standing close enough behind her Miaka could feel his body heat at her back. As she closed the door, Miaka thought on the fact Keisuke still hadn't responded to any of her calls. She sighed, maybe by the end of the week he would come to his senses and make up with her and the others.
Almost before the door was shut, Hotohori closed the small gap of space between them to wrap his arms around her. Immediately, his aura followed suit, clinging to her like a second skin.
"I thought they'd never leave." He complained, raining down kisses on her neck.
"Hotohori!" Miaka protested his sudden amorous advances with a laugh, trying unsuccessfully to wrest herself from his grip. They hadn't even had dinner yet!
"Miaka!" Hotohori teased her, the sound muffled against her skin as he continued to kiss her playfully. Her hands rested atop his, no longer trying to pry herself free.
Miaka planted a kiss on the only part of him she could reach—his forearm. "Isn't it a bit early for that?" She joked.
The kisses increased in frequency and intensity, tickling her mercilessly as he spoke in earnest, each word punctuated by kisses. "I have waited far too long to love you for us to wait a moment longer." By the time he finished speaking, the kisses devolved from light pecks into heated, open-mouthed demands for more. The arms around her tightened, holding her flush against Hotohori's heated form. In case she'd missed his meaning, Hotohori pressed his hips against her rear, allowing her to feel the evidence of his need through his dress slacks. His chi brushed against hers sensually, causing her to shiver in reaction as her own aura throbbed.
"Ho-hotohori!" Her breath hitched when his tongue became involved, his breath stealing over the skin at her neck in hot waves in between. Unable to help herself, Miaka twisted in his arms so she was facing Hotohori, his open-mouthed kisses questing across her throat and jaw as he sought her lips.
Miaka melted against him when their lips finally met, the force of his kisses tilting her head back against the arm he still wrapped about her shoulders. She looped her arms around him, clinging to the fabric at his back desperately.
The arm at her middle snaked downward, grasping her hip to pull her against him like the night of the concert. His eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as he sucked in a shaky breath, parting her thighs with his knee to haul her even closer.
In this near straddling position, his reaction to her was more than clear. His erection strained against her lower belly, the hand at her hip kneading her flesh against him rhythmically in a slow progression to her buttocks. With visible effort, he pulled back to murmur, "Please, Miaka. I fear I cannot hold back much longer." His energy surrounded them in a humming storm of emotion as he waited for her reply.
Moved by his passion and eagerness, Miaka nodded her assent and leaned forward to kiss him again. Hotohori moaned, the hand around her shoulders sliding down to join the first in grasping her buttocks firmly. He lingered there for a moment before hoisting one leg up and around his waist at the knee, followed shortly by the other as he lifted her with surprising ease.
Miaka yelped, her arms flying to wrap around his neck as she found herself eye level with Hotohori. He grinned, kissing her again as he made his way to the master bedroom, navigating the stairs without issue despite her added weight.
Entering the huge suite, Hotohori carried her directly to the plush bed covered in luxurious crimson silks. A quick glance around assured Miaka he'd already lit the required incense and candles. Miaka's brief musings of when he'd even had the time to do so were quickly brushed away as Hotohori laid her gently amidst the pillows and comforter. Without releasing her or pausing in his kisses, he crawled atop her to nestle himself firmly against her heat, which Miaka noted with embarassment was a match for his.
They undulated against one another for long moments, Hotohori enjoying the ply of Miaka's flesh beneath his fingers as he pulled the hem of her skirt up to reveal her modest pink underwear.
Miaka flushed in embarassment. If she'd known he planned to jump her the moment the others left, she'd have worn something nicer, but he didn't seem to care. In fact, his fingers skimmed right beneath the hemline to her center where he brushed tentatively against her. Miaka sucked in a breath as she felt herself responding, growing steadily wetter beneath his ministrations.
After some time, Hotohori pulled back to balance over her on his elbows. Gently brushing Miaka's bangs out of her eyes with his free hand, he stared lovingly into the sea of green. One thumb traced her lips as he murmured, "This is how I always envisioned us, on our wedding night."
Miaka felt her heart twinge. She could feel his sorrow at having lost her to Tamahome, his regret that their love had never really had a chance. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Golden eyes softened and the finger at her lips paused, pulling down slightly on her lower lip. "Don't be sorry. You've only ever followed your heart. I can only express my profound gratitude that its path has led you back to me." His voice lowered an octave as he glanced down at where their hips pressed together. "And my bed."
"Hotohori!" Miaka gasped, her eyes wide. She was surprised by his admission, but not at all upset. It gave an extra weight to the fact that he had always held back for her sake.
A smile graced his lips as his gaze traveled slowly up her body before focusing again on her face. "I have been an Emperor and a famous musician, but above all, I am a simple man, Miaka. A man whose only want and desire has been to love you." He stroked the side of her face with his knuckles, pressing his forehead to hers intimately.
Overcome with emotion, Miaka breathed, "Then love me."
The strength seemed to go out of Hotohori's arms as he fell upon her, his hot breath grazed her lips as he whispered, "I intend to."
His words caused the delightful heat that had been centered in her abdomen throughout her body, suddenly, everywhere they touched felt overly warm, her clothes constricting.
His hips undulated against hers, the tell-tale bulge pressing wantonly against her still covered center. She wanted to feel him. She wanted his smooth skin pressed to hers with the weight of him holding her down.
Miaka panted, impatiently shucking her top and tugging at the hem of Hotohori's shirt and then the buttons of his slacks. His pants couldn't come off fast enough, sticking stubbornly around his knees and ankles. Hotohori's underwear had managed to come off at the same time and now his manhood pressed to Miaka's thigh, separated from her only by the flirty scalloped edge of her skirt that had managed to fall back down. Hotohori whimpered, his hand skimming up her leg to push the offending fabric out of the way so he could press against Miaka skin to skin.
Miaka gasped at the sudden heat of him, arching as Hotohori removed her bra to leave butterfly kisses along her chest. He paused curiously at the place where Chichiri had marked her, but said nothing, instead allowing his tongue to dart out every so often and drawing tiny mewls from his priestess as he descended along her body. After one or two fumbles, he managed to unzip her skirt and tugged it down, bringing her panties with it.
The sudden coolness of the air brought Miaka back from the edge and she clamped her legs shut in sudden embarrassment.
Velvet hands circled her ankles, slowly stroking upwards along the backs of her calves. Upon reaching her knees, Hotohori kissed each one in succession, his hands continuing their journey up Miaka's pale thighs. He went so slowly and gently, Miaka hardly noticed as her legs eased open under his skill-full ministrations.
Hotohori placed hot open-mouthed kisses starting just above her knees, first the left and then the right, inching all the while towards her center. By the time he reached her, she was already shaking, her hands fisted in the bedsheets. When his tongue laved her outer lips teasingly, she reached down in an attempt to push him away. "You don't have to." Something about having the former Emperor of Konan do this for her seemed wrong.
Reaching out, Hotohori grasped Miaka's hands, their fingers intertwining as he buried them in the mass of pillows surrounding them both. Breathlessly he whispered, "I want to," the words barely audible as he buried his face in her. His tongue circled her nub until Miaka's hips began to swivel in response. Then, as he would deepen a regular kiss, he tilted his head to slant his mouth over her, his tongue thrusting inside with every pass of his lips.
"Ah!" Miaka twitched beneath him, her breath hitching with each stroke. Hotohori squeezed her hands, holding them firmly to the bed as her hips bucked and her head began to thrash from side to side. Hotohori shifted, allowing his tongue to venture further, exploring Miaka curiously, trying to determine what she liked best.
Miaka squeezed his hands tightly, her back bowing as he suckled tenderly at her swollen flesh, devouring her like a man who'd been dying of thirst. Miaka breathed deeply in an attempt to control herself as her legs began to twitch. She could feel something building, her body was incredibly hot, and Hotohori was making her feel as though she might float away if she let him continue. It was too much. He had to stop! With some effort, she freed her hands, blindly reaching for her lover.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly in an attempt to pull him away, pull him back up her body. At first, Hotohori fought her, his hands cradling her buttocks to hold her to him more firmly, bearing down with an intensity that caused her vision to gray out and her insides to tremble. She pulled harder and Hotohori raised his head with a disappointed sound, half-lidded golden eyes peered up at her with want and Miaka had half a mind to let him finish.
Instead, she shifted her grip, running her hands through his silky locks in an effort to guide him upwards. Slowly, her Seishi crawled up her body, never taking his eyes off hers. Mouth slightly parted, Miaka took the moment to catch her breath, relishing the feel of his overheated skin brushing hers until he covered her completely, his aura a comforting blanket over the both of them.
Shyly, Miaka let her hands traverse the expanse of Hotohori's broad shoulders, stroking delicately down his back to rest timidly at his waist. Swallowing, her hand crept down, only to lurch away guiltily as Hotohori's body jerked.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No." Hotohori pressed his lips together, a smile threatening to break free. "That tickles."
"Oh. Sorry!"
Hotohori did smile then, grasping Miaka's errant hand and lifting it to his lips in a kiss. "No harm done. Let me help you?"
Miaka nodded, her cheeks red. How embarrassing! She'd wanted to do something for Hotohori like he and Chichiri had done for her… but she'd messed it up!
Gently, Hotohori guided her hand down to his stomach rather than his waist, and then downwards to where his manhood rested gently against her abdomen. Miaka touched it lightly at first, amazed at the velvety texture and the way Hotohori's breathing hitched. Hotohori guided her fingers from the tip to the base, murmuring loving assurances as he wrapped her hand around himself to demonstrate grip and speed.
Miaka's eyes widened at the feel of Hotohori in her hand. His length was heavy, and her fingers could not reach the whole way around. She hadn't had the courage to touch Chichiri the way she was touching Hotohori, were they all like that? Thankfully there hadn't been any pain the first time, like she'd always heard there would be, but the idea that it might hurt swirled through her mind.
Experimentally, Miaka tightened her grip and Hotohori sighed, his hips soon beginning a rhythmic motion into her hand. A feeling of feminine power swept over her as Hotohori released her hand to plant his elbows on either side of her shoulders, trusting her to continue alone. Emboldened, Miaka held her grip steady and slowly moved back and forth, her confidence further stoked by Hotohori's heavy breath against her ear.
Miaka hadn't thought it possible, but as she worked, Horohori's hardness seemed to swell, making it more difficult to move her hand easily. Memories of getting "indian burns" on her arms as a child made her slow, unsure of how to solve the problem. A sudden wetness on her lower abdomen startled her, and using her other hand she realized that the tip of him was leaking some sort of fluid, similar to she herself had produced earlier. Unsure of herself, Miaka paused in her stroking to run her thumb over the tip.
Her action elicited a gasp from Hotohori, a sound Miaka enjoyed so much she repeated the action. Slowly, she swept her finger over the head, the natural lubricant causing the skin to become slick against her fingers. As gently as possible, Miaka continued her ministrations in an attempt to cover the skin of his shaft. The moment her fingers circled beneath the head, Hotohori's entire body shuddered, pressing himself, and her hand, firmly between their bodies and his head into her neck.
Panting against the sensitive skin of her throat, Hotohori swallowed, obviously trying to regain control of himself. The organ Miaka still clasped in her hand pulsed with heat, and she felt a strange sense of pride that she'd been able to bring him to such a state.
After a moment, Hotohori's breathing returned to normal and he deftly removed Miaka's hand from his manhood. "If you keep that up, we're going to ruin the ceremony."
"Oh." Miaka blushed. "Sorry."
"Don't be." His eyes bore into hers meaningfully. "There will be another time."
The love and lust conveyed in his gaze, combined with his words, made Miaka's mouth go dry and her insides melt. All she could offer in response was a simple nod. She hadn't allowed herself to give much thought to what happened after the ceremony was complete, but the thought of being able to explore more with her Seishi after tonight gave her peace. Miaka wanted more than anything to please her Seishi and the idea of trying to fit everything into one night was daunting.
Hotohori kissed her again. Initially, Miaka cringed, remembering where his mouth had just been. After a moment his tongue was caressing her own so thoroughly, she forgot all about it. Undaunted, Hotohori lowered his body to rest against hers so his hands could run through her hair. He pressed her into the covers, broad chest flattening her breasts as his languid movements stoked the building fire within them both. His weight held her down in a way that might've felt restrictive if it hadn't felt so sinfully good.
Tentatively, Miaka raised a knee to cradle Hotohori's hips as he canted them against her center. Miaka's other leg twined around the back of his knee, holding him in place as they moved together in heated bliss.
Reaching between them, Hotohori brushed her center with long fingers as his member strained against her lower abdomen. Miaka gasped as his fingers circled her, pressing inside her wetness briefly before directing the head of his manhood to rest against her entrance.
"Are you ready?" He whispered. His voice was steady but Miaka could feel the fine tremors of anticipation as he quivered against her.
Miaka nodded.
Hotohori's gaze met hers as he moved forward, his hardness slowly entering her tight passage. Miaka bit her lip at the sensation and pressure, the heat between them causing her to break out in a sweat. Only halfway in and trembling, Hotohori gasped, "I love you."
Writhing against him in her need to have him closer, Miaka panted, "I love you, too."
Leaning down to kiss her again, Hotohori shifted, lifting both of Miaka's legs to rest her ankles on his shoulders with an intense look in his eyes. For a moment, Miaka thought he was going to try to go down on her again but instead Hotohori tilted his hips forward, finally sliding the rest of the way inside her with a throaty yell.
Miaka yelped, her back bowing with the sensation, her chi throbbing against Hotohori's. It didn't exactly hurt, more like a pressure she couldn't quite describe. She wasn't sure what was different. Was Hotohori that much larger than Chichiri or had they done something wrong? Chichiri had made sure she came two or three times before he'd entered her, whereas Miaka had stopped Hotohori beforehand in her eagerness. Maybe she wasn't quite relaxed enough?
Above and within her, Hotohori shook as he panted, gritting his teeth in an effort not to end things too soon and spoil the ceremony. Miaka panted as well, her muscles relaxing as moments passed and she gave an experimental roll of her hips.
Hotohori rolled his hips languidly in response, one hand snaking around her thigh to cup her face lovingly as their energies finally merged. Hotohori let out a long, low groan as the heat between them rose, their aura's pulsing together with the beat of their hearts.
Eye's half lidded in pleasure, Hotohori's hand left her cheek to trace Chichiri's love bite. The gentle rolls soon increased in urgency, becoming choppy and wild as he leaned over her, his hands gripping her hips tightly to direct their movements.
Miaka dug her fists into the sheets by her head and wailed at the intensity of this new angle as she came apart beneath her lover. "Hotohori!" Her entire being throbbed, inner muscles embracing Hotohori as he continued his forceful thrusts. Hotohori's powerful movements were slowly but surely scooting her up the bed and she loved it. The idea she could cause a man who was normal so composed to completely lose control like this was thrilling.
Hotohori's pace faltered as he fought through Miaka's orgasm, pressing himself closer and returning to the slower rolling pace from before. Lowering Miaka's legs to his waist, he searched out Miaka's clit with nimble fingers. Miaka gasped when he brushed her oversensitive nub and arched against him to come again helplessly when he applied pressure. Hotohori watched with heavy lidded eyes, riding out her second orgasm with deep and gentle thrusts.
"Hotohori…" Miaka pleaded weakly, releasing the sheets with a whimper. Her energy field was wide open, pulsating rhythmically as she panted for breath. "Please."
Hotohori paused, still seated deeply within her. Miaka could feel his hardness filling her, and the incredible build-up of energy that flowed around him, teasing her senses. Releasing her hips, Hotohori leaned down until he could slide his arms beneath her back to hold her tightly. The action tilted her breasts towards his lips and he greedily closed his lips over a nipple as he began to rock powerfully, pressing her into the mattress with abandon.
Miaka's hands shot up to grip his hair tightly, reveling in his worship of her breasts with lips, teeth, and tongue. Her legs half-heartedly wrapped around his waist as he rolled against her in heated passion, her feet slipping down his rear every now and then from her near state of exhaustion. Her tight grip seemed to spur him on, earning her several thrusts that rattled the headboard against the wall. Before Miaka knew it she was clenching around Hotohori for the third time that night, her eyes and mouth wide open in ecstasy as he finally spilled himself within her.
His hips stuttered and jerked with his release, the collected chi entering Miaka in a warm rush as he collapsed atop her in a panting heap. Miaka slowly lowered her cramping legs, trembling with overuse. Still inside her, Hotohori buried his face against her chest, lips still sealed around a breast as he breathed in and out slowly. He stared up at her through thick lashes, his expression heavy and sated.
Miaka stared back, stroking his hair thoughtfully, almost reverently. She hadn't expected her gentlest Seishi to be so aggressive in bed. Now he was entirely spent, his body shaking with small tremors as he recovered in her arms.
It was a long time before either of them had the strength to move, and then it was only to roll out of the wet spot to settle in for a nap. Hotohori disengaged from her reluctantly, rolling them so that he was flush against her back beneath the blankets. Miaka sighed contentedly as he wrapped an arm around her middle with his nose deep in her hair.
The two of them dozed on and off until Miaka found herself blinking and wondering if it was evening or morning. The light coming through the window was such that it could have been either. "What time is it?" She asked blearily.
Leaning over her to peer at the clock, Hotohori took the opportunity to press a chaste kiss to her mouth before rising and disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom and Miaka stretched, wincing at the way her muscles protested the movement. Hotohori had really done a number on her.
Moments later, Hotohori appeared at the side of the bed and lifted her without a word. He carried her easily into the bathroom and seated her at the side of a tub large enough to be counted as a small pool.
"It's not too hot is it?" He asked.
Gingerly, Miaka tested the water and shook her head as she began to ease herself in. "It's perfect."
"Good." He smiled gently, waiting until she was settled before clambering in after her. Carefully, he nudged her over until he was seated behind her and she was rested with her back against his chest. "Now relax."
Miaka's entire body flushed immediately, despite all they had done earlier. There was just something extra intimate about bathing with someone. Nevertheless, the hot water felt heavenly, easing the tightness in her muscles. Hotohori cradled her between his legs, heaving a sigh of contentment as he tilted his head back against the edge of the tub.
The bath was long and relaxing, the two of them reveling in the soothing heat of the water and each other's company in silence. When they were finished, Hotohori donned a pair of satin pajama pants, offering Miaka what appeared to be the matching pajama top only to tuck her back into bed and disappear again. He returned shortly with a plate stacked high with different foods, much to Miaka's delight.
Somehow, Hotohori managed to slow her down long enough to feed her several choice pieces of fruit without losing a finger. Luckily, he found her chomping on one of his fingers to be endearing. Proclaiming that he should know better, he ate his own fill and set the empty plate aside.
"Thank you." Miaka beamed as she settled back against the assortment of pillows behind her. His thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze her. "You're amazing."
"You are more than welcome." Hotohori chuckled, snuggling closer to her as the last vestiges of light vanished through the window.
To Be Continued…
AN: I would like to take this moment to ask all of you who are not essential employees to please stay home and read fanfic if you can. I know it's not possible for everyone, but please take social distancing/quarantine seriously. I have had two family members (one is my brother in law, who is 38 and should know better, the other is his 16 year old daughter) blatantly disregard one or both of these thinking they were only putting themselves at risk. They were shocked to hear that no, it's not just you, it's anyone you or the people you meet might come in contact with—his girlfriends child, her friends, her friends parents, his mom/her grandma, or me and my husband—who might pay the price for not doing so. I am not typically a yeller, but I screamed like a banshee at my brother in law for his selfish and dangerous behavior while living in MY house. (He was stuck here for 3 weeks. Imagine someone who thinks they're as crafty as Nakago but with the impulsiveness of Tasuki, and then make them willfully ignorant) You can be asymptomatic and pass this shit for up to 14 days before showing symptoms. For the sake of those whom you love, Please Be Safe.