Just a Touch

"I'm home," Yoh's voice echoed through the corridor of Funbari as he shut the front door and slipped his sandals off. Mild exhaustion from his travels, he simply placed his backpack down by the entrance and made his way into his home. He took a left down the hallway and saw that the kitchen light was on. The sound of running water and clanging dishes could be heard.

Anna must have been making dinner.

He walked in and sure enough, he saw her standing by the sink with her back to him, an apron around her waist and her lengthy blond hair pinned up in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. She was skillfully chopping away at an onion, dicing it into a pile of other assorted vegetables and placing it into a bowl. She turned to her right and caught his frame standing at the entrance of the kitchen out of her peripheral. She paused for only a second and hummed to acknowledge his presence.

She turned back to her cooking, "Welcome back. Can you get the pepper? It's on the top shelf."

Immediately, he complied despite his fatigue. In fact, the lethargic feeling he had all but disappeared entirely. He was just glad to be in his wife's company. He stood behind her and reached over her shoulder into the cupboard and retrieved the pepper shaker and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said quietly glancing his way for only a moment.

He smiled, "You're welcome."

He was glad he was home. He had missed her. Badly. He had to travel to Izumo by himself to visit his mother over an urgent unforeseen matter and Anna insisted she stay to take care of the home so he could go and concentrate on whatever specific task he needed to tend to. He knew he had to go for a few days but wasn't prepared exactly for a week. Being so busy and hit with an unexpected week-long visit, he had very little time to phone back home to inform her that he would be staying longer than anticipated. And now that he thought about it, what was she thinking right now? She was rather quiet, aloof. Was she mad? He thought for sure the moment he came walking through the door, either Hana, or she would hit him with a million question.

"Hand me another knife?" she requested again. He quickly walked over to a drawer and retrieved the utensil and placed it in her outreached hand, slightly brushing her palm with his.

She paused, looking down momentarily at the knife, then up at him. As soon as their hands overlapped, he froze staring back into her wide, almost questioning eyes. She slowly took hold, her fingers slowly sliding across the inside of his palm.

"...thank you," she said timidly. She proceeded to chop away at an unsuspecting tomato leaving him to his understandings.

Oh.

Oh.

"I'm going to the bathroom to wash up. I'll be right back." He said already on his way out. She hummed again in response as he made his way down the hallway. He flicked the bathroom light on and closed the door, turning on the faucet water to wash his hands. He grabbed the bar of soap sitting next to the couple's toothbrushes and began to lather them under the warm water.

He took a look at the mirror showing his reflection; to his relief, he was aging nicely, a little stubble producing on his chin, much like his father.

"...twenty-six," he mumbled to himself smiling. It wasn't the golden years of his life, but he could feel the age, both literally and figuratively. Nothing told him that he would make it to this age. He had thrown his future to the wind so long ago. It was a miracle that he was still alive to leave a legacy after literally dying so many times. He fought, bled, and fought some more in order to save a world that hardly knew the fight was going on in the first place. But it was worth it in the end. He was finally able to relax, come home and not feel antsy all the time like he had somewhere to go, to come home to a beautiful house, beautiful wife, and a handsome son.

Well, it was more the other way around when it came to Hana. Every so often, Hana would come home after vigorously training with his friends (well, the way they fought all the time, it was still up in the air if they were actually friends) and challenge him to a duel to see if he had overpowered him finally in the fighting. Yoh would plead with Anna, wanting to stay, listen to music, and eat, but of course, she denied his request, wanting him to stay in peak physical condition, and because Hana was her namesake, she wanted him to become just as powerful as his father as well to continue the family lineage. With a son like him and a wife like her, it never stayed too quiet around the house, which was both fun and nostalgic...and a bit tiresome. But he got used to it as ton going on.

As far as his wife, Anna had become more reserved over the years, not resorting to violence nearly as often as she used to, but that fiery personality had never left. The sheer fact that she could take your life and drag your soul to hell was every reason one would need to keep from incurring her wrath upon you. She still had the obligation of an itako as well and had no intention of wasting time being lackadaisical and without purpose. She still strived for shamanic excellence in everything she did and in her household and made it a fact that she would forever do so.

But even as time passed, she had become such a beauty, even more so than when she was younger. Her hair was down by her ankles now if not tied up, in thick blond locks. She quietly stepped about their home with more of a motherly presence, cleaning and gardening, tending to a task that would be overlooked by an untrained eye. And to Yoh, it had become quite provocative, an aura that followed her around like a ghost. He could remember how she would talk when they were in their youth, how she wanted to become a better housewife, caretaker, and mentor. He knew without a doubt that she had succeeded in doing just that. She was so graceful with her curvaceous frame, the way her hips sashayed when she walked, that arousing smile she would seldom give him every now and then.

And the culprit that made him pause at the kitchen doorway upon his entrance to Funbari and completely forget about his lethargic temperament was Anna's simple, humble household attire.

She had abandoned her usual dress grab and had put on his sweatpants and a sleeveless t-shirt.

There was just something about her wearing the clothes that turned him on. The pants gave more definition to her figure, something he sorely missed when she wore her more casual dresses, and the t-shirt stopped just above her waistline, exposing her belly button and the two small dimples along the small of her back.

She must have been gardening earlier.

She usually put on his clothes when doing outside labor and grabbed some of his travel-worn garments instead, much to his viewing pleasure.

He was privileged, very privileged.

And it was moments like now that spoke to him the most when it came to her. They weren't the type of couple to hug, kiss, and cuddle in the open. Doing so even in private was a rarity, but there were indicators that would sometimes pop up that would alert either her or him that the other needed some type of attention, small silent whispers of yearning. And it was quite apparent in Anna the moment he walked in the kitchen. She was a lot quieter and observant of him than usual. And when he handed her the butter knife, how she slowly took it out of his hand as she stared into his eyes…

…he would have been a failure of a husband if he didn't pick up on those signals.

He shut the water off and went to dry his hands on the hanging towel.

He wasn't too worried about not being able to silently hear out his wife though. He had encountered this thing before, and when he was younger, he would have been severely punished for not "manning up" and taking on his role as her companion. But he was more seasoned now, and quite confident in noticing her feelings. They had lived together for years, married and responsible adults.

He was ready. And willing.

He made his way into the kitchen again, silently eyeing her. She still had her back to him, now washing off and drying her hands after placing all her ingredients into a boiling pot on the stove.

"You just missed Hana," she spoke, noticing his presence. "He ran off somewhere with the Third and Amidamaru, said something about training together."

The shaman chuckled under his breath, "That's Hana, always going places training, and with his fiancée no less."

"At least he wants to train," she said sarcastically. "He doesn't get that enthusiasm from you."

He chuckled, "I suppose so."

He came up behind her, this time, hands grabbing her by the waist.

She noticed immediately, glancing towards their physical connection, and then looked up at him, his long black hair brushing across her cheek as she turned. Their eyes locked, almost audible, like two small magnets slapping together.

He smiled sweetly at her.

"…hey," she breathed, eyelashes fluttering heavily.

"Hey…" he answered just as minutely.

Their attraction was silent and sudden. In one moment, she had turned to face him and in the next, he overlapped his lips with hers, no longer full of pre-mature, childish apprehension, no uncertainty. They knew what they wanted.

They wanted each other.

She slowly slipped her hands into his lush hair and tilted her head gently to the side to enjoy the full extent of his passionate kisses, as he easily lifted her off the ground and sat her atop the kitchen table, reaching around and undoing her ponytail. Her skin sprouted goosebumps as he left her mouth to her cheek, to her ear, where he began to playfully nibble on her lobe. Her lips trembled as she struggled to keep in her exhilaration, but ultimately failed when he kissed her again, his tongue asking for entry. She happily complied, grabbing a hold of his shirt and pulling him as she dropped back onto the tabletop. He chased after her as she nestled onto her back, almost pushing the nearby chair over, but they hardly paid it any mind. He backed away only for a moment to look into her eyes. Her cheeks pink and her breaths were heavy, equivalent to his.

She looked angelic. Her hair flowed off the sides in uneven hemps and her legs nudged his thighs as they dangled off the edge.

"A week, huh...?" she asked, tracing his exposed collar bone with her finger, drinking his presence in. "I didn't know you would be gone for so long."

A grin graced his lips, "Maybe, we should get cell phones. I wanted to call you."

She nodded, "Agreed..."

He leaned down and kissed her again, and he could feel her moan rise from inside her chest and out her mouth. It was like a current that seemed to connect whenever their lips met, and he felt it travel down the length of his spine to his toes. Feeling her under him was electrifying.

Her hands exploring him like a cat does a new scratching post.

The aroma she always seemed to carry with her, something primal, something with a hint of spice, and uniquely hers.

Her hips began to grind the space between his legs, and knowing he never wore cumbersome clothing, she could feel his manhood on her pelvis. Growing. Wanting. Pulsing.

He couldn't take this anymore. He needed to make sure there were no interruptions.

He suddenly scooped her up from the table and cradled her bride-style, a look of surprise on her face.

"You mind if we relocate?" he asked her almost rhetorically making his way out into the hallway and towards their bedroom upstairs.

As soon as he got up the steps and into the privacy of their room, he sat her down and waited till she gained her footing, then he seized her again, pinning her to the wall leaning his weight along her back, un-tying and stripping her of her kitchen apron. Both his hands strayed in opposite directions. One traveled down her back, past the elastic waistline of her sweatpants and her panties and graced the shelf of her butt. The other crawled up her stomach and underneath her t-shirt. He pushed past her bra tracing her ample breast with his palm.

He smiled as he squeezed both respected areas and grazed her neck with his teeth. Her body reacting to the pressure. Her back arching against him and he could hear the slight crack of her fingernails grinding faint lines into the wall.

"H-ah—sh-shit…"

She braced herself, trying to keep her legs from buckling under the warm intoxicating sensation of his hands exploring her body.

Every time.

Every damn time, with just a touch of his hand, he was able to wisp away every coherent thought that even remotely resembled logic from her mind. But it was moments like this that she didn't want to think. She didn't want to be logical. She just wanted to be appreciated, to be loved, to be loved on, and oh how he did all of those things effortlessly. She could be the most honest when he and she were alone. She was a woman indeed, his wife. She had needs and she had requirements. When he was gone, she thirsted for him, and when he returned, she wanted to drink him in, for him to only have eyes for her, to only concentrate on her. Words failed her when she tried to voice her desires regularly, but he somehow always knew what she was thinking, what she wanted. It was a silent intimate form of communication they had developed.

And she loved him for it.

In one motion, she turned to face him and grabbed hold of his shirt, tugging it on the seams, silently asking for him to remove it. He took it from the bottom and lifted it above his head making her sigh inwardly. She didn't really expound on her own desires, but she was quite fond of gazing at Yoh's body. Due to the years of training, he had gained definition in his chest, shoulders, arms, and stomach. He still retained his slim figure, but there wasn't an ounce of excess fat on him. The sight made her take in a shaky breath.

"You...haven't been slacking off in your training, have you?" she mumbled, barely audible if not for Yoh's intent listening. The playful comment made him smirk and he kissed her neck electrifying the sensitive area.

"No, I would never..."

The next set of motions were a volley of ravenous excitement and lustful appetite. Her hands meticulously outlined his belt buckle as he quickly stripped her of her shirt, then her pants, and then her bra, her panties not too far behind from the unveiling of her porcelain frame. He had managed to catch the edge of the white silk by the hem with his finger and cast them aside by the time their foreplay brought them to their futon. She was successful in relieving him of his jeans and boxers as well, much to her satisfaction. It was physically apparent that he wanted her. Fervidly. This side of him, she enjoyed without a doubt. No matter how lax he could appear on the outside in the midst of family and friends, in the heat of the moment, there was nothing the two of them could hide from one another.

Angling his head, he passionately kissed her again, and she did nothing to fight the sensations it invoked. She couldn't even if she wanted to. They were explosive and all-consuming, and she gave herself over to him. The stroking of his tongue, the warmth of his lips, even the placement of his hands when they moved to her hips as he drew her up against him made the kisses intensely sensual and caused dark and tantalizing moans of arousal to emit from deep within her lower body as the space between her legs grew moist with want for her husband.

And not a second later, as if he could audibly hear her internal cry to fulfill her sexual desire, he spread himself above her, then thrust into. Her bright almond eyes grew wide and her breath stifled in her throat. He held her intense gaze as he plunged deeper into her, setting a solemn and concaving pace causing her hips to tremble.

Ah—I-I came.

She did. She came so hard, her ears were ringing. Damn, it was like she was a horny teenager in the throws of youth. She knew in her heart, in her mind, that she wanted him, but it was like her body spoke a similar but altogether different language. Her skin bristled at the sound of his voice and she could feel her underwear moisten when their hands touched in the kitchen. No matter how much she tried to be calm, no matter what.

He had her wrapped around his finger.

Boldly, he pushed her knee back towards her chest, changing the angle of his palpitation and heightening the friction, and the pleasure intensified, quickening her pulse. It was immense. Almost overwhelming, revitalizing her senses. She bit her lips and closed her eyes, her world spinning as she tried to find security by grabbing hold of the bedsheets. But it wasn't enough. She could feel herself climbing, climbing toward...

"Anna."

Gasping for a sustaining breath, she opened her eyes and looked into his face.

"I missed you."

Whimpering a moan of satisfaction, she wrapped her arms around him and couldn't stop herself from burying her face into the hollow of his neck and dug her fingernails into his back. Their climax was simultaneous and miraculous.

She had missed him as well. So much.

"You know something Anna, I think if we ask the Third, she could get us one of those smartphones from the Patch-"

"Don't impose on other people," she frowned but refrained from getting too upset. She was tracing small circles on his bare chest, drinking in the privacy they had, knowing the natural need of her growing household would soon require her presence. Sooner or later, she would have to go back to her duties, and so did Yoh.

But not right now.

Not now...

"We'll just go and get ourselves some cell phones sometime this week."

"You think Hana would want one?"

"Might as well get one for him. He's going to have to have a way to keep in contact with the others."

"Alright..."

The room was refilled with silence once again. Yoh silently stroked her hair and stared blankly up at the ceiling while she scooted closer towards him under the sheets and let out a sigh of relief and tranquility.

"You must be tired," said looking into his glassy eyes. "You should rest."

Inadvertently, her eyes slowly traced the outline of his frame under the covers and suddenly noticed the growth amidst his lower region that apparently hadn't yet dissipated.

"Heh, not so tired anymore, I guess" he chuckled. She looked back at him with a small smile.

"Wanna go again?" she rolled over on top of him enjoying the sudden overwhelming abrasive feeling of skin contact again, her breasts sitting firmly on his chest as she lowered her head down to kiss him, her tongue dancing with his.

"This time," she said playfully. "I'll-"

"ANNA-SAMA!"

That was definitely the Third's voice coming from downstairs.

"Um, there's an overflowing pot down here on the stove. Is this intentional?"

All the sexual wind flew straight out the window.

"Damn you, Yoh."

"Wait, what did I-"

"You made me forget about dinner. I was in the middle of making it."

He laughed as she rose from the covers, "I'm sorry. I was caught up in the moment, you wearing my clothes n' all. You know I like that look on you."

He watched as she reclaimed his sweatpants from across the room and slid them back. No panties.

He didn't question it.

She turned back towards him as she went to the closet and found one of his plain white long-sleeve t-shirts and slipped it over her head, "Rest, I'm coming back and we're picking up where we left off."

The edge of his lips curled mischievously, "...yes ma'am."

For a moment, they just watched each other from across the room until she decided she had seen enough of him until she made it back to the bed. Back to him. And she made her way to the bedroom door, slid it open, and quietly shut it behind her.

He could hear her footsteps as she descended the stairs and greeted and reprimanded both Hana and his tenacious fiancee for something, whatever it was, it was inaudible to him from behind closed doors. He fell back onto the pillows and closed his eyes, his hand tracing where Anna once was beside him.

It was still warm; he could still feel her next to him like she was still there.

He smiled.

She had him wrapped around her finger.

And he welcomed it...