Tender Concessions, Part 3
Part 1 | Part 2
A companion to Sensitive Negotiations. Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
A stupid number of years in the making; I promised @xaphrin Obi returning the favor of scar kissing in Sensitive Negotiations way back when she was still working on Talk Too Much, and then promptly got distracted by other things, then promised two chapters of this fic to @fashun-able for the 500 followers raffle, had it grow too big and become its own companion, and then had it get split into three pieces, just in time for this to fit the bill for the prompt “Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap” I picked for the Obiyuki Kiss-a-thon. SO FINALLY, THE MUCH PROMISED SMUT.
Despite all her training-- and all of Yuzuri’s explicit stories-- Shirayuki has to admit: she was not quite ready for the, ah, moment.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” Obi slurs from the pillow as she coughs, his fingers carding soothingly through her hair. “Are you alright?”
The taste that lingers in her mouth is bitter, earthy, and her jaw feels subtly stretched beyond comfort, but besides that, she’s fine. Better than fine with his chest beneath her hands, with the memory of how he had thrown his head back, how he had called out her name--
She squirms, and it does nothing to dull the yawning ache between her legs. Oh no, now she’s more aware of it, that persistent pulse, throbbing with the beat of her heart. No matter how much she tries to live in this moment, to appreciate the patchwork of pale scars and smooth skin beneath her, it’s impossible to forget how he had offered to give it to her if she wanted.
Oh, how she had wanted then, how she still wants now--
Her breath gasps out of her as her back hits the mattress, jarring her thoughts into disarray, but she has no time to collect either before Obi appears above her, mouth canted coyly. His hands cup under her thighs, grip firm but gentle, guiding her knees up to her chest.
“Obi,” she breathes, bracing her hands on his chest, enjoying the rabbit beat of his heart beneath them, “what--?”
“I believe--” his palms smooth up her thighs, rucking up her chemise-- “you said that you should finish what you start.”
His calluses scrape along the soft skin between her legs, creeping up and up, and oh, she never thought she’d like anything like this, something rough where she is smooth, but she shivers at his touch, the scent of her blooming bright in the air. Yuzuri had always said it must be terrible for boys to get hard all the time, that at least girls could hide what they want and when they wanted it, but now—
Now she knows the exact moment he smells her, his teeth flashing behind his lips, smug and yet—hungry. Predatory.
Her toes curl. “Y-yes.”
“And it seems—“ fingers brush over the wet curls between her thighs, stealing her breath, but it’s nothing to the jolt that snaps through her when his thumb parts her folds—“I have some unfinished business with you, Miss.”
She almost manages, you have no idea, but one long finger traces her slit, and her back nearly clears the bed. “Obi!”
Shirayuki clutches at him, gripping his biceps so hard she’s sure he’ll have bruises the size of her fingers when they’re done, but she can hardly care, not when his own slide up the length of her lips so easily she moans.
“Is there something you need?” he asks, almost conversationally, as he dips his finger inside her. She expects resistance, but even in this her body yields to him; it slides in smoothly, right down to the last knuckle. “Fuck.”
She opens her mouth to tease him, to mind him to watch his language, or maybe ask if he planned to kiss her with that mouth, but--
But he curls his finger, and now she can barely do more than breathe, her whole body focused down to that single, throbbing point. “Obi!” she tries again, but there’s no words in her, not when he slips in a second, stretching her until she’s-- she’s filled.
It’s obscene how wet she is, how his fingers drawn out a wet squelch with every pump, her scent growing thicker on the air. She’s flushed just knowing it, knowing that there’s no way to hide how desperate he makes her, how much she wants him. Her cheeks and chest burn even as she raises her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers, and she opens her mouth to-- to apologize, but--
“You’re so ready,” he whines, hips grinding into her thigh. She can feel him, half-hard against her, and her cunt clenches hard, drawing out his moan. He’s filling her, but it’s not enough, not what she needs, not when it’s already so close.
“For you,” she pants, pawing at his arms, his shoulders. “I want you, please.”
Obi’s breath huffs out on a laugh, head shaking. He surges forward between her legs, the thrust of his hips pushing his fingers deeper, drawing her world to a single, aching point and--
“Please.” Shirayuki has never begged for anything, only ever earned it, but oh, she will beg for this. “Obi, please.”
“Yes,” he groans, tilting forward to place a kiss on her chest. “Yes, I’ll give it to you, just...”
He loses his words, mouth too busy kissing what skin he can find. His hand grips her thigh, looping her leg up over his shoulder, until she’s open for him, wanting, the wet noise of his touch obscene on the air, and--
He stops.
“Obi.” There’s no breath left in her to scold or to beg, but she manages that.
He bends over, mouth curling as he presses it to her knee. “What’s this from?”
Shirayuki blinks, chest still heaving. “Haah?”
“This.” His nose brushes along the same place, eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin of her thigh.
It takes her one long moment to focus, to see the small, silvery scar that stretches just under her kneecap. “I crawled through a bramble patch looking for truffles.”
His eyebrows raise. “Truffles?”
“The boy next door told me that princes ate them.” She lets out a huff, heat blooming across her cheeks. This was not exactly what had come to mind when Yuzuri had told her about pillowtalk. “I thought if I could find some, my grandparents could use them.”
His chest rumbles against her shin. “And did you?”
A laugh bubbles out of her as she shakes her head. “No. And I’m lucky that’s the only souvenir I kept from that excursion.”
Obi grins at that, his hand sliding along her arm, lifting her palm up to him. He barely looks before he presses a kiss there. “And this one?”
His breath puffs hotly against her hand, and it's...intimate, in a different way than it was before. “I grabbed a flask with my bare hand.”
“Miss,” he admonished, moving up to a finger. Hers are slender, small, and she expects a delicate kiss, just a pucker of his lips, but--
“Haah,” she breathes as his lips open, threatening to envelop it whole. “Broken glass,” she offers, hazy, “or a thorn I can’t-- ahh-- remember.”
He smiles around the tip, teeth scraping her skin, and she’s suddenly very aware that his fingers are still inside her, motionless, waiting.
“Obi,” she whines, wriggling her hips.
“Mm?” His brows raise as he gives one, solid suck that she feels straight down to her toes.
“I...” She licks her lips, mouth terribly dry. “I have one on my lip too.”
His mouth leaves her with a pop. “Is that so?”
She nods, emphatic.
“Well,” he drawls, rolling the word obscenely across his tongue. “We can’t ignore that, can we?”
He hovers over her, gaze fixed on her mouth, and her eyes flutter, falling to half mast, waiting--
“Oh!” she yelps, clutching at his shoulders as he flips her up, straddling his lap. His fingers are still in her, impossible to ignore with the way she’s spread wide over him, and he gives one long, languid pump of his wrist. “Obi!”
“I need to get a better look,” he says, too innocent, ducking his head to inspect her mouth. Her lips tingle with anticipation, something that would annoy her if he wasn’t still moving his fingers in her, so slow, stroking just lower than where she needs him.
His breath ghosts over her lips, so close, and she leans in, hoping--
His mouth presses to the corner of hers and is gone just as fast. “Ah, not there. Maybe here?”
Lips barely brush the other corner before he is grinning at her, far too smug. “Or is it--?”
“Here,” she huffs, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him to her mouth.
It’s softer than she expects-- both the bristle against her palms and kiss on her lips. Despite his yelp of surprise, Obi is ready for her, tilting his head to open his mouth against hers, to let his tongue shyly lap at the lip caught between his own.
Shy is not what Shirayuki wants, not right now, not when his fingers still rest within her and she can feel the bare skin of his chest against her belly. She surges against him with a roll of her hips, tongue reaching out to lick at his teeth, and--
“Ah-ah,” he clucks, pulling back, eyes little more than thin golden rings behind the veil of his lashes. “You’re distracting me.”
“Distracting you?” she echoes, breathless, uncomprehending.
“You should always finish what you start.” His teeth flash wickedly as he leans in, pressing his lips against the bone of her cheek, just beneath her eye. “This?”
She blinks away the haze in her mind, trying to remember, but then it comes her her: the endless rocking of the boat, the sharp sting of a blade--
Obi stiffens, pulling away. Even his finger leave her, wrapping around her hip. “Miss? Are you--?”
“It’s nothing,” she says, “just a scratch.”
“Miss...” His gaze fixes to the spot, and she can see the moment he remembers. “Is that...?”
“You should call me by my name, Obi,” she tells him, louder than she needs to. Her fingernails scrape along his scalp. There’s nothing she can't say to Obi, nothing she needs to hide, but-- she doesn’t want to talk about that. Tanbarun. Not now. “You’ve already used it anyway.”
He hesitates, eyes still caught on the silvered line, so faint it’s practically faded. With a shuddering breath, he drags himself away, fixing his gaze on her lips. “Oh?”
“Earlier,” she tells him, enjoying the way his eyes pulse wide with shock. “And I don’t think there’s any need to worry about propriety now. Not when I’ve done...things, and you’ve already offered to make me feel good.”
Obi’s mouth rucks up into a smirk. “Did I now? And here I thought I only said we had unfinished business.”
“You did.” She hesitates, just a moment, before adding, “At Kaninshala.”
His eyebrows raise. “Kaninshala? I don’t remember that.”
“You were drunk at the time.” Her heart flutters in her chest, but there’s no risk left in this, not when the taste of him still lingers on her tongue, and his fingers spread wetness along her side. “But you said that you wanted to make me feel good. That you could make me feel good.”
It’s not often that Obi blushes enough for her to see, but she’s close enough to see his cheeks flare red, matching the tips of his ears. “I-I did not!”
“You did!” she insists.“You even told me you would give me a child--”
Obi lets out a pained bleat, burying his face in her neck. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
She smiles, carding her fingers through his hair. “You thought I might be missing what a marriage might have given me.”
His breath huffs hotly against her neck. “I doubt my intentions were quite so selfless as that, Miss.”
She hums, disapproving. “I thought I told you to call me by my name.”
“I might as well,” he grumbles, “since I already offered to sire your children.”
“I should have insisted earlier,” her mouth curves as she presses it to his neck, “you already told me you could hold me down with just your thighs.”
His head snaps up. “Wha--? You said that!”
She blinks. “No, you did, at Svarbjorn, when I--”
“No, you told me that you--” he huffs out a breath, shaking his head-- “at Lord Hideo’s, when we went cow tipping with his idiot sons. You rode home with me.”
She barely remembers that night, but she does vaguely recall his warmth pressed into her back, the way one of his hands had spread distractingly over her stomach. “I did.”
“And then you grabbed my thighs and asked me if I could hold you down with just them.”
“I did not!” she squeaks, mortified. “I don’t-- I don’t remember that at all!”
“You were drunk at the time,” he admits with a sly cant to his mouth, “but you were very clear. And asked about Master too.”
She covers her face with a groan. “No.”
“Yes,” he tells her gleefully, tugging at her hands. “I must admit, it was very pretty picture you painted.”
There’s something about the way he drops his voice, the way it practically sinks into a purr, that makes her...curious. “Could you?”
He blinks. “Could I what?”
“Hold me down.” She drops her hands to his chest, letting them drag over every ridge of muscle between his collarbone and hip. “With just your thighs.”
His cock twitches hard against her bare thigh. “I, ah...” He licks his lips. “Why don’t we find out?”
She spills back against the bed, thighs clenching as Obi crawls over her, gaze searing as he drags it up her.
“You said you wanted to be sweet to me,” she sighs as his legs pin her, her hands tracing up and over the cords of his thighs, “are you going to be?”
“Did I now?” he hums, hands circling her arms, running up to her wrists. “I don’t quite recall...”
“At Kichirou’s,” she gasps as his mouth presses at her neck, sending sparks racing down to her toes. “When you-- haah-- offered to make me feel good.”
“Mm,” he hums, mouth canting slyly against her skin. “I meant I wanted to taste how sweet you are.”
Her brow furrows. “Taste how--? Oh.”
Yuzuri had told her about that once, how a man might put his mouth on a woman there. Then it has seemed just as improbable as someone putting a cock in their mouth, but now--
But now her mouth is still bitter with him, and the thought of him between her legs, doing to her cunt what he is doing to her breast--
“You would...?” She doesn’t know how to ask, how to say that she wants to feel his stubble on her thighs and his tongue at her slit. Despite all the one-sided conversations on the subject, Yuzuri had never quite touched upon anything more than theory.
“Mm.” His hum goes right through her with the way his mouth is wrapped around her nipple. “I think about that quite a bit.”
It should be easy to turn this into something, to insinuate that she might like to experience all-- all that, but all she manages is, “O-oh?”
He chuckles against her breast, self-deprecating, and gives her a sly look. “It always seemed too much to hope that you might want...” He hesitates, humor leeching from his face. “I thought...serving you might at least be a more likely fantasy.”
“Obi.” She sinks her hands into his hair, pulling him back to look him in the eye. “I have never thought of you as anything less than my friend.”
His eyes shine, even as his mouth quirks. “Even in the beginning?”
Shirayuki blinks, remembering the scrawny young messenger who popped out of every bush and dropped from every rooftop; who asked her if it would not be easier if Zen wasn’t a prince-- “Well, maybe an annoyance, at first.”
His lips split into a grin. “That’s fair.”
“But after that,” she presses, emphatic, “I never thought of you as my servant. I thought that we were...that you thought we might be...”
His hand tangles in hers, settling over her heart. “You've always been my best friend, always. I just thought that I...” His lips press together. “Sometimes I wondered if I was just seeing what I wanted to see. You know, a dog that thinks its the same as its--”
“No.” She strokes his cheek, his stubble rough against her palm, breath catching as he leans into the touch. “No.”
His breath pulses roughly between them, once, twice, before his hand raises, covering her own.
“I mean what I said before,” he murmurs, nuzzling her thumb. “I love you, Shirayuki.”
Her breath stills in her chest. “Obi...”
The words are right there, right on the tip of her tongue, but...but this is not her moment. She’d welcomed him home once, years ago now, and his answer had only been to lift her off her feet, to show her what his heart could not convey in words. She’d been content with that, carrying the memory close to her heart, like how some people wore lockets, but then he’d done what he’d never done before--
He found his words. For her.
As easy as these have come for him today, she knows that each one is hard-won, a battle she’s not seen-- or at least, one she can’t remember.
Her thumb rubs at the dark circle beneath his eye, faded since they’ve come to Rodatrad. She can wait to tell him.
“I’ve thought about that a lot, you know.” His eyes slit open, so dark behind the curtain of his eyelashes. “How I wanted to make you feel good. How I would show you.” His voice drops into a purr, “That I’d like to taste you.”
“Oh!” she gasps, heat flaring as bright on her cheeks as it does between her legs. “I...I...”
“Yes?” he hums curiously, hand dropping to cup her breast, rolling its peak between two of his enticingly long fingers.
“If that’s what you would like,” she says, miraculously steady as she meets his eyes, “then far be it from me to deny you.”
His breath catches in his chest, still against her skin. “Miss--”
“Shirayuki,” she tells him, and presses a hand to the top of his head.
The amber of his eyes turns molten, scorching. “Shirayuki.”
With no more goading than that, his mouth traces a scalding path down her body, licking and nipping at every inch of skin until he finally sits in the vee of her legs, gaze fixed to where she lays open for him. His breath huffs warmly against her, sending shivers up her spine, and she squirms.
“Obi, I think-- haah--” She loses the rest of her thought at his mouth closes over her, tongue sliding up her slit. Her hips jerk, and if she wasn’t about to die from embarrassment, the way his chuckle rumbles against her would be enough to send her over.
His arm settles across her waist, a heavy band, and then his tongue laps at her again, parting her folds, and-- “Oh,” she sighs, back arching as she squirms against the sheets. “That’s good.”
He pulls back with a hum, grinning. “It gets better.”
She means to-- to ask him what he means, to maybe even tease, but his fingers replace where his tongue hand been and his mouth latches hard on to the aching bud between her legs and, well-- she’s only human.
Pleasure overtakes her, as sudden and relentless as the undertow, dragging her under. She’s panting hard when she surfaces, throat raw, knuckles blanched bone-white where she grips his hair.
“Oh,” she breathes, “oh, I didn’t mean to...”
Words refuse to come to her. Obi rests his chin on her belly, grin pulling wide. “I don’t mind. I have to say, the enthusiasm’s...enjoyable.”
Shirayuki nods, loosening her grip, blood tingling as it ekes back into her fingers. She pats his head absently, bristle pleasantly tickling her palms. “I love you.”
Well, there goes that good intention.
He stills under her hand, eyes wide. “M...”
His breath leaves him on a rasp, and he surges up her, mouth open and devouring as it meets hers. Ages ago, it seems, she had been afraid of kisses like this, staring out the iced windows of an inn room, wondering if the snows would free her. But now she catches him, just as eager, knees squeezing his hips as he writhes into her, the soft cotton of his pants caught between her toes.
Obi pulls away, but only to tear at her chemise, yanking it up the rest of her body and throwing it to the floor, somewhere beyond the horizon of the mattress. She cannot bring herself to care, not when she is bent of ridding him of his pants, using both fingers and toes to work it down over his hips, down along the lean line of his calves.
He’s hard against her when she’s done, the length of his cock grinding sweetly into her. “Do you...?”
She cannot possibly miss what he is asking, not when his eyes are so desperate. “Yes,” she gasps, curling into him, “yes.”
All of her theoretical experience has braced her for this part to be unpleasant, maybe even painful, but as his cock slips through her folds, the tip gently pushing into her, there’s nothing but the slow slide of him in her, filling her until she gasps.
“Now that,” he breathes, pressing kisses to to column of her neck, “is good.”
She threads her fingers through his hair, gently scraping her nails down his scalp, enjoying the way he stops to groan against her skin. “Does it get better?”
He jerks back, the worry in his eyes fading as he catches her smile. “Yes,” he says, rolling his hips into hers, laughing as she throws back her head and moans, “it does.”
His pace is torturous, both too slow and not enough, barely filling her before he pulls away, leaving her empty, aching, clawing at him for more--
It doesn’t take long, not for either of them.
He moves just right, hips grinding against hers in a way that had her seeing stars, and then his cock slides all the way in, to a place where her worlds whites out at the edges. With little more that a squirm of his hips she’s falling again, harder this time, every part of her so hot she’d be afraid she might scald him, if she had any room for any more thoughts that yes and more and don’t stop.
Her ears are still ringing as she comes down, but she catches Obi just in time, his back stiffening under her fingers as he lets out a noise that sounds more like a wounded animal than a man. His cock pulses as he spills over, a detail both obvious in hindsight and yet somehow shocking in the moment, but she’s so sensitive that it feels good, better than good, and she holds on to him, coaxing him over with mindless sweet nothings.
Boneless, he collapses into her, the weight of his body oddly comforting against hers. She strokes his back absently, tracing patterns in the sweat that slicks it until he laughs, rolling off beside her.
Ohh, it should not feel so good when his cock leaves her. It only makes her want to start again.
“You know,” he sighs, smile spread wide and warm as he twines her fingers in his, “that’s not when you’re supposed to say it.”
She blinks. “Say what?”
He’s flushed already, dewy and pink, but it settles deeper now. “I...you know. When you...ah...”
It still takes her a full moment of watching him squirm to realize, “You mean when I said I love you?”
“Yes,” he sighs, relived. “That.”
Shirayuki can only stare. “Why not? You made me feel very good, and I love you. It seemed like the perfect time to say it.”
His eyes widen. “You make a fair point, M--” he catches himself-- “Shirayuki. But also...”
She hums, inquisitive.
“Well,” he coughs, “I can’t really tell anyone this story. Ever.”
Her brows raise. “Oh, and somehow when you said it to me is a much safer story?”
He has the decency to blush at that one. “Well, it was, you know, before.”
“Hm,” she grunts, “by a few seconds, maybe.”
“By enough,” he insists, pulling her against him. “But I suppose we’ll just have to keep it to ourselves anyway. A mystery.”
She grins, settling her head against his chest. “You do love to have secrets.”
She can feel his grin as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I do.”
“But...” Her smile turns wicked, hidden against his chest. “Yuzuri hates them.”
He groans. “Oh no, Yuzuri.”
“Are you going to come to bed?”
Akihito frowns at his wife’s reflection in the window, but turns to her anyway. “This is cheating, I hope you know.”
“Me?” Masami flutters her eyelashes, just as she had the night they met. His lords always talk of women losing their beauty as they age, but every year has only made her more beautiful, more herself-- and she knows it. “I merely sent a congratulatory gift.”
“To Sir Obi’s room,” he grouses, slipping between the covers.
She slides across silk to lay her head on his chest. “It’s where we both know she will be.”
“Still.” He frowns, not to be moved. Between the two of them, he is the one with an acute sense of fairness. “Still.”
“Oh, and threatening a daughter was somehow a fair play?” she inquires archly.
“I did not threaten a daughter! I only--” he casts about for the right words-- “informed Lady Shirayuki that she existed. And would make a good match for Sir Obi, should none other provide itself.”
“I’m sure Chisato will be pleased to hear you were making such plans in her absence,” his wife observes wryly, “perhaps we might mention it in our next letter.”
He grimaces. “That won’t be necessary. And there’s no need to be sour over it, in any case. You could have used the same ploy. She’s your daughter as much as mine.”
She favors him with a cool look. “Oh, do you think so?”
He coughs, aware of the ice creaking beneath his feet. “What was it that you wanted, then? A greenhouse?”
“Ah!” Masami crows, levering herself up to meet his eyes. “So you admit I won?”
“We cannot know until morning.” Their plans had too often been spoiled by the stubbornness of Lady Shirayuki and her guard to be too certain of any one move working. “But...” he sighs, “where would we even put such a thing?”
She curls against his chest, a satisfied smile unfurling against his skin. “I know just the spot.”
