Midwest Otome Obsession. Send Help. Or Warlords.

Speed Friending Dating

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

  –  24 HOURS AGO – 

After placing her order at Lettuce Eat food truck, Katsuko stood by the delivery window next to a guy dressed as Mr. Fantastic.

(He’s in cosplay. And he looks fit. This is a good opportunity to try out my sales pitch for the photoshoot.)

The idea had come to her when she was prepping for ‘Fandom-Con’. What could be cooler than capturing kickass superhero action poses while doing urban parkour? It was the perfect combination of her interests. There had to be others out there who felt the same. A convention was the perfect place to find them.

“Can’t believe our luck in finding vegetarian options here at the con. Pretty great, right? Or should I say … Fantastic?”

The man turned around when she started speaking, head swiveling to see who she was addressing. It was just the two of them at the food truck. He pointed to his chest as if to ask ‘Are you talking to me?’ with a quizzical expression. 

“Oh! Because of my costume for Reed Richards? That’s a good pun!” A joyful smile broke out.

(Well, damn. That face contained the heat of a thousand suns. He should have dressed as Johnny Storm with a 500-killowatt smile like that, not Reed.)

The man continued, “Oh, I’m not vegetarian. But this one had the shortest line of all the food trucks, so my chances of getting back inside for the next panel were statistically better.”

Well, that was disappointing. Regardless, she was undeterred in her mission: Find out if he does parkour.

“Oh, that’s valid. Totally. But I gotta say that costume really is…” she mimed finger guns at him, “...Fantastic! The spandex fits so well; you’re like, really fit, too. What kind of training do you do to stay in shape?”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, she cringed inwardly so hard it felt like a blackhole had opened inside her gut. She wanted to crawl into it and disappear. 

(That is such an obvious pickup line! I should have practiced in front of a mirror. I hate talking to new people.)

She wished her Mockingbird eyemask was large enough to hide her discomfort. 

If the man had noticed it sounded like flirting, he gave no indication. In fact, it appeared as if he was oblivious of the connotation as he replied with an earnest smile, “Thank you! I don’t do much, but I do have an elliptical in my apartment that I use when I’m reading.”

They were interrupted by the window opening next to them, as hands held out take-out boxes. The man accepted one, she took the other.

“Ugh! Mushrooms?!?” came from her, at the same time he groaned, “Carrots? Whyyyy…..?”

The forlorn pout on his face was too cute. The food in his container looked like the stir fry she ordered. And hers? There was no way she would have asked for this many mushrooms.

“I think our meals got mixed up. Here.” 

The change on his face was instant, clouds clearing away to bright sunshine once more. He reacted as if she was doing him a huge favor. “Oh! You really don’t mind trading with me? I can’t thank you enough. You’re so nice!”

She would have argued that they were handed each other’s orders by accident, but he had already started jogging away.

(Shoot, I never got a chance to finish trying out my parkour photoshoot questions.)

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

  –  8 HOURS AGO – 

Would this line ever move? The long queue in the autograph area snaked back and forth. Katsuko had been standing for an hour before being told that she was in the wrong line for her favorite celebrity.

After finding the correct line and being at the very back of it, time stood still. 

The line crept forward inch by inch. 

Another glance at the clock on her phone.

(Aughhhhhh! If this line doesn’t start moving faster, I’ll never get to the Star Wars panel!)

Besides this autograph session, that panel was the one thing that made her sign up for the convention. Why did they have to be back-to-back on the schedule? 

Her feet were falling asleep,; her legs were killing her. 

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

  –  THE SAME 8 HOURS AGO – 

What a find! The vendor room had been crowded and over-stimulating, but at least Mitsunari had found something worth reading at the rare book dealer’s booth. A first edition printing of the schematics of the vehicles in the Star Wars trilogy! Now all he needed was a quiet place to read it.

Every square foot of wall space was occupied by bodies, and there wasn’t one open chair in the food court. After peeking into the large rooms, he found one that was empty. Taking a seat at the front, he began to read. The world around him disappeared as his brain absorbed the technical diagrams. 

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

  –  6 HOURS AGO – 

Katsuko sprinted from the autograph area to the Star Wars panel at the other end of the convention center. Legs on fire, ankles still numb, dreaming of the chair she would finally sit on.

She opened the doors, only to be met with a room full of people. Every seat taken. Even the wall was packed. Exhaustion made it difficult to mask her frustration. 

(No-no-nooo… Could this day get any worse?)

As if on cue, her left calf spasmed with a cramp. A little cry of pain escaped Katsuko, to her chagrin. 

(Why did I ask that question? I jinxed myself.)

Putting her weight on the right leg, Katsuko hobbled forward as she scanned the packed room for any place to sit down, even on the floor.

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

  –  THE SAME 6 HOURS AGO – 

(Oh boy, what a great book! Ahhhh.)

Mitsunari closed the cover and returned to the real world with all the smells and heat of a hundred people crammed around him. His nose wrinkled as Mitsunari noticed the empty room was now filled to the brim.

His ears picked up a tiny sound of distress in front of him, seeing a woman favoring one leg and looking miserable. Oh no! He had to help her.

“Miss? Ma’am?” What was the appropriate thing to say in this situation? He gestured to the limping lady as he stood up, indicating his chair, “You, with the pretty turquoise and brown hair? Please have my seat!”

He was oblivious to the grumbles of the crowd that had been standing for the past hour as this newcomer was given a chair. After seeing that she was comfortably seated, Mitsunari smiled at her and left.

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

  –  1 HOUR AGO – 

“Give it a try? Please?” Hideyoshi had cornered Mitsunari, taken away his new book, and was now begging him.

(Why did he have to grab my book? He better not damage it!)

Mitsunari couldn’t focus fully on what Hideyoshi was asking, as his mind was on his precious rare book. Purple eyes were tracking the hand holding it, which was making erratic gestures. 

“You want me to do something for you and Mai, correct? Yes, of course I’ll help if I can. Now please give me my book. You’re creasing the cover.” 

“...I don’t believe he heard all of your request. Allow me,” Mitsuhide’s smooth voice preemptively cut off Hideyoshi’s frustrated reply.  “Hideyoshi is asking you to attend a speed dating activity to get a girlfriend so the two of you can go on a double date with him and Mai. It starts in one hour. It’s not a simple errand. You’re trying to find a date. Is that what you really want to do?” The sardonic tone suggested it should be the last thing anyone should do to help their friend. 

Mitsunari processed that for a second, gears whirring in his brain. He weighed the concern for his friends and wanting to fulfill their wishes against the impossibility of convincing a woman to go out with him. Yes, he wanted to help, but was he able?

(Surely Mitsuhide was better at flirting than me.)

He looked between his two friends, the concern written on his face, “Me? Why not Mitsuhide? He’s more popular with the ladies.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Mitsuhide closed in, wearing that scimitar smile and pointing a warning finger at Mitsunari, whispering a deadly “NO.”

At the same time, Hideyoshi gave an uncomfortable laugh, looking off to the side, “Yeah, no. Mai would rather it be you, Mitsunari.”

“But I have no ‘game’,” Mitsunari repeated something he had heard one of Mai’s friends say about him.

Hideyoshi sighed, “Yeah, buddy. I get it. It’s a lot to ask. I just wanted to make her happy…”

Guilt gnawed at Mitsunari, shoulders slumping.

“What if I sweetened the deal, hm?” Mitsuhide’s good humor had returned, “A $50 gift card to your favorite bookstore if you get a woman’s number. I’ll bump it up to $100 if you manage to secure a date.”

Hideyoshi, scandalized at the mercenary turn this conversation had taken, spun on his white-haired friend. “What? No! I don’t want to buy his agreement. I wanted him to actually make an honest effort in getting a girl. Mitsuhide, that’s … unconscionable.”

“Oh, but you’re not the one asking him to do it for a wager. I am. So you can keep your intentions pure. And I get to have a fun stake in it.” He turned his gleaming gold gaze on Mitsunari. ”What do you say? You can make an honest go of it for the sake of friendship, and you get books out of it. That’s a deal too good to pass up, Nari.”

(Those are all excellent points…) 

“I’ll do it. When and where?” He was already pulling out his phone to add the event to his schedule. 

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

  –  NOW – 

The room looked exactly like Katsuko expected it to: small tables with a numbered placard and two chairs facing each other. A coordinator directed her to sit at table 17. Waiting for the first round to start, she mentally prepared her speech to make the most of the 5 minute time limit.

Mitsunari almost walked into the wrong room, but noticed the sign said Speed Friending. Close call! Next door was the sign for Speed Dating. Inside he was told to wait along the wall with the men. He looked at his number: 16. The girl sitting at table 16 was wearing a yellow wig. Then he looked to table 17. 

(Oh! It’s the limping woman! I hope she’s feeling better now.)

The first man to sit down at table 17 only wanted to ask about what Katsuko’s ‘type’ was. Whenever she steered the conversation towards her photoshoot goal, he seemed confused, and then was finally sullen by the time he left his chair. She rolled her eyes, thinking it would have been more efficient and less frustrating if she had made a sign announcing her intentions.

Meanwhile, the bubbly personality seated across from Mitsunari was trying way too hard to sell herself. It was two minutes before she took a breath. He grabbed his opportunity to ask for her number. She produced her phone instantly with a high-pitched giggle, exchanging contact info with supernatural speed. Mitsunari was stunned at how easy it was. That gift card was as good as his!

Soon the time limit was called, and the men were told to move to the table to their left.

Katsuko hid her dismay at seeing yet another man sit down, but soon recognized him from the Star Wars panel.

“Thanks again for letting me sit down,” she started at the same time he asked, “How is your leg now?”

She was the first to recover, giving him finger guns and a grateful smile, “Fantastic, now, thanks to you.”

Mitsunari grinned at their simultaneous talking, his mind flitting back to a similar situation at the food trucks. 

The finger guns and the word ‘Fantastic’ triggered enough similarities for him, while his solar-flare smile was unforgettable to Katsuko. They both leaned forward inquisitively, their movement mirror images.

“Were you dressed as Mr. Fantastic yesterday?” she asked – almost nearly at the same time as Mitsunari exclaimed, “You were the one cosplaying Mockingbird!”

They both chuckled at talking over each other again. 

Katsuko asked, “Are you into parkour?”

“...What?” Came his reply with polite confusion.

She explained the sport, hopeful when recognition dawned on his face. Turns out a friend of his, Sasuke, did that. And why yes, he would consider trying it some time. In costume, even. And take photos. He simply kept nodding and agreeing to every suggestion. So cute.

Keeping her cool, she pulled out her phone, “Great. Let’s schedule something. I’ll get your email address.” 

Mtisunari’s eyes widened. Wait – were they setting up a date? Had he fulfilled both Hideyoshi’s and Mitsuhide’s requirements without even meaning to? “I never thought the Speed Dating event would be this easy,” he hummed cheerfully.

“Speed Dating? No, this is Speed Friending,” she replied absently, opening her calendar app.

He shook his head gently, “Ah, that event is next door. The sign on this room definitely said Dating.”

Katsu: *breaks the fourth wall, looking at the camera with deadpan disappointment*

—----------------------------------- —-----------------------------------

Are you well? I miss seeing your smile. Something inside me hurts when I think I will never see your smile again. That the smile is brighter when you look at Kenshin. If he ever makes your smile fade, please come back to Azuchi and I will-

The letter had been abandoned at that point. Mitsunari gave up, realizing whether the words were on the page or locked in his head, they were only words. Because whatever emotions prompted this letter still had the power to cloud his mind, cramp his stomach, and stab at his heart. What was the use of writing them down?

It would have ended there. But Mitsunari was interrupted and in his absentminded way, he forgot all about that wayward piece of paper.

It should have ended there.

Then a new threat coming from the Mori clan, the resurrection of Motonari, and a message delivered by the ninja Sasuke invited the Oda forces to a summit, to a camp in neutral territory, to meet with the Uesugi-Takeda forces for a strategic discussion. Of course, as Nobunaga’s rising strategist, Mitsunari’s presence was necessary.

And because in his haste to gather his notebooks, references and papers, Mitsunari accidentally swept the forgotten letter into his pile, it did not end there.

Even then, disaster might have been avoided if the letter had stayed hidden amongst the scattered diagrams of formations, or if anyone else had been the one to notice the letter. Anyone but the one person who absolutely should not have found it.

Anyone but Kenshin….

There had been an internal battle within himself when Kenshin had allowed – no, not ‘allowed,’ for that suggested that she would have agreed if he had even hinted that he wanted to leave her behind at Kasugayama. He’d asked her to come from the start and bathed in her smile when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered, “I know how much it cost you to ask that. Thank you.”

He knew she thought he had conquered his easily roused jealousy, allowed the embers to fade on his fear of loss.  It wasn’t true, but he’d allowed her praise to settle around him like a warm cloak.

He’d pretended.

Pretended it didn’t hurt to see her bow to Nobunaga and call him ‘Ani,’ to be swung into a spinning hug with Masamune, to see her clasp hands and smile with affection toward Mitsunari. Still, he had tried to push past his jealousy when he’d seen how happily Marie was to be with her “Azuchi family.”

But he couldn’t push away that still simmering fire, a fire that had been banked by her daily affection but not extinguished completely.

Thus, when he and Mitsunari sat down to exchange strategic theories, Kenshin’s neat journals lined up against the young man’s explosion of papers, Kenshin had already been primed. Primed by his previous dislike of the man who everyone else described as human sunshine.

Hmph. As if that was something to be aspired to.

The genius, yes, Kenshin could see it. Also, he saw the waste. Why was such a mind bestowed on this clumsy, smiley, boy?

As if to immediately give example to Kenshin’s internal critique, Mitsunari clunked a large rock on top of his pile when the wind ruffled the papers, threatening to scatter them to all corners of the camp. “Oops!”

“How do you find anything?” Even if he hadn’t had Kanetsugu to help organize his days, Kenshin would have kept his papers and reports in order. This chaos was not acceptable.

Of course, all Mitsunari did was smile. “It doesn’t matter. I know where everything is.” To demonstrate, he shut his eyes, touched the stack of papers, thumbed part way down, and retrieved a diagram of the formation that they’d planned to discuss. “Here. See?”

He saw…

He saw more than Mitsunari realized. Underneath the page Mitsunari had retrieved had been a piece of paper with the name ‘Marie.’

Yes, he saw.

Kenshin slapped his hand on top of the papers and under Mitsunari’s confused gaze, he dove into them until he pulled out the errant letter.

Read it.

He wants to steal her away from me.

It took a moment for Mitsunari to recognize what Kenshin had in his hands. A moment for him to understand that this time, he had not known exactly where everything was. His blush… the shame, followed immediately after. “I thought I burned that. I only needed… I never planned for anyone… anyone at all… to ever see it.” The explanation was jumbled, stammering, honest.

Kenshin wasn’t listening. Could hear nothing beyond the roaring of a fire that swept through him as he read a letter meant for nobody. “We will spar.”

Mitsunari looked down at the letter that was now crumpled in Kenshin’s white knuckled fist. “Of course, that is your right, Lord Kenshin.”

“Until death.” And he would kill the boy. Kill him and any other who got in the way.

“I understand.” Mitsunari placed his hand on the grip of his sword, taking a deep breath.

“You understand, then, that I will kill you.” Daily, Kenshin threatened to kill his vassals, his ninja, his friends, and that Yoshimoto. This was not the same type of threat. This was a promise. The beast inside him roared for blood. The fear of loss blocked every other sound.

Amethyst eyes finally met his own. “You can try.”

His blood lust combined with battle lust. In recent years, there was only one person Kenshin had failed to best in battle. Mitsunari. They’d fought before, Kenshin and this boy. A battle that had lasted longer than expected. Neither had won. The fight had been stopped by his ninja, who had claimed, in his odd Sasuke dialect, that he could tell the fight would end in a draw.

We’ll see about that now.

In grim agreement, they marched to a flower decked meadow far enough away from the camp to attract attention. A meadow more known for peace, not battle. A flower filled meadow suitable for a grave. Kenshin’s internal vow – only one of us will return.

Underneath the roar of the dragon in his soul, he wondered if this had been Mitsunari’s plan after all? To lure him out, then finish him off in private. Was even now a team of archers or riflemen hiding beyond that cluster of trees? Just as that cheerful exterior masked the most complex strategic mind Kenshin had ever encountered, did that sunshine also hide a streak of hate? Behind the smile was there someone planning to murder for love?

You shall not have her.

They bowed to each other deeply, then ritual satisfied, there came the sinister whistle as two swords unsheathed. Kenshin struck out first, though Himetsuru Ichimonji was immediately greeted by Mitsunari’s nameless weapon. Their gazes met over the crossed swords.

For a moment, neither was able to push forward, as the strikes had equal strength, powered by equal determination.

Then finally, Mitsunari whirled away, his weapon already primed to meet the next attack.

As with that past battle, this match began slowly, increasing in intensity as the strategist anticipated his every move. Strike met strike, tempered steel met its counterpart in a deadly dance.

The sun reached its zenith then slowly reversed toward the horizon.

Something is different this time. The moves were no longer academic. Yes, Mitsunari anticipated Kenshin’s every movement, his sword in place almost before Kenshin’s, his body ducking and spinning away from every potential hit, but this time there was more strength and skill behind the moves.

He’s been practicing.

No matter. Kenshin was different too. He had someone he could not, would not lose.

Neither warrior faltered, even as it neared sunset and lanterns began glowing from the distant camp.

They fought on. Grimly. No words had been spoken since they began. The only sounds were the clang of swords and the grunts of effort. Kenshin smelled the sweat rising from both of them, a scent mixing with the scent of summer grasses. The taste of blood in his mouth as he bit his own cheek in determination. He felt the heaviness of Himetsuru Ichimonji in his hand, a comforting, familiar weight.

Panting breaths… his… the boy’s. His own heart drumming in his ears.

Then a scream. “Kenshin!” Marie rushed out into the flower-covered field.

“Stay back!” He turned his face to her. It was only a fraction of inattention to the fight. But it was enough.

Mitsunari saw the opportunity and swung his sword—

Only at the last moment did he alter the trajectory and step back, adopting a defensive position, waiting until Kenshin was ready to resume.

He could have killed me.

With a scowl, Kenshin paused. “You had an opening. Why didn’t you take it?”

“She will be sad.” MItsunari’s voice was a hushed whisper, and Kenshin had had to strain to hear him.

Kenshin looked over at Marie, her face a mixture of confusion and worry. “If you weren’t going to kill me, why bother to fight?”

“I did not want to die.” Mitsunari stated it as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Seeing that their fight had paused, Marie strode between them, holding her arms out as if to become a physical barrier. “What happened? Why were you fighting?”

He pulled her to his side, slinging his arm around her.  Mine. “Sparring. It was a good day for a fight.” The look he gave Mitsunari dared him to correct that statement. When no contradiction appeared, he added. “We’re done now. I’ll kill you tomorrow. Go!”

Mitsunari bowed. Kenshin wasn’t sure if it was an apology or a thank you. Or… with this strange boy, it could have been acknowledgement of a good fight. Then he turned and walked away, his smile dimming as he left Marie by Kenshin’s side.  

As Kenshin and Marie ambled back to camp, she rested her head on his shoulder. “That didn’t look like a sparring match.”

He contemplated the truth, then decided that his love for Marie aside, Mitsunari did not pose a threat to him. Kenshin realized he ought to have known that all along. “It was a misunderstanding. Now we have sorted things out.”

“Mmm.” Marie side-eyed him, the single syllable and her skeptical expression conveying the extent of the belief she had in his explanation, but that she chose not to press him further. As they entered the camp, she took his hand, leading him past the warriors enjoying their evening meal, and to the tent they shared.

“Here. Maybe these will help.” Katsuko gave her a bundle of hand towels.

Sute did her best to wipe the worst of the excess off her hair and face. But there weren’t enough towels in Kasugayama to dry the rest of her. She put on her most pathetic expression, the one Chiyome had described as ‘kicked dog.’ “Do you have anything to eat? Sweets?” Shingen always kept a stock of desserts hidden somewhere.

“Oh sure. Of course.” Katsuko retrieved a basket of sweet buns and Sute happily dug in. The buns were no longer warm, but having something in her belly was a comfort of sorts.

Shingen frowned at the rapidly emptying basket. “Devil, I was saving these.”

Quickly, Sute stuffed the last bun into her mouth, even though she hadn’t finished chewing the last one.

“She’s wet and hungry.” Katsuko cuddled up next to Shingen at his desk, then opened the packet of reports that Sute had just delivered.

“She’s conning you.” Shingen raised the stakes on the ‘kicked dog’ face by sending Sute a somewhat fatherly ‘behave’ glare. She’d noticed him doing that more often these days. “You know as well as I do that Sute is well paid. And… I was saving those.”

“She is right here. I missed my last meal because I was chasing Ryuchi’s courier all over the province.” It was a dance that all three were doing. Shingen might put on the paternal act now, but it hadn’t even been two years since he had taken Sute to bed. Sometimes. For that matter, Katsuko was more than aware of Sute’s capabilities – the two of them sometimes worked together to steal information from people too stupid to be cautious.

Katsuko grinned as she poked Shingen’s ribs. “If you want pastry that much, I’ll get you some before the teahouse closes.”

“At which point, you would be the one soaking wet.” He returned that casual affection by tugging on his lover’s ponytail.

“Then you can have fun drying me off… completely.” She winked at him.

“Deal.” He kissed her ear. Either he had forgotten that Sute was still standing right there, or he didn’t care. She imagined that even if she were to ‘accidentally’ loosen her clothes, neither would notice her.

The buns settled at the pit of her stomach like rocks. It wasn’t that Sute missed sleeping with Shingen. Their encounters had only been a convenient way to satisfy some pressing needs. Nor was she jealous of Katsuko. Gods, she liked Katsuko and was happy for the two of them. It was clear that Shingen, in spite of his new fatherly attitude to her, seemed younger, healthier, and Sute was glad for that.

It was just…

Why don’t they invite me to join their fun?

Being nestled between Katsuko’s soft skin and Shingen’s powerful thighs would be an experience she could slip into her memory and take out to warm her on these cold wet days.

Instead, she’d have to be content stealing Shingen’s dessert. Sute wet her finger and stuck it back in the basket, trying to grab even the smallest remaining crumb.

Finally, Shingen turned his attention to the courier packet that Sute had gone to the trouble to retrieve. He frowned at the report, then tilted it so Katsuko could read it too. Casually, she braced herself on his shoulder to do so.

Knowing that the couple was likely to talk dull strategy for the rest of the day, Sute took advantage of their distraction to hunt for more sweets. Maybe there was something interesting in that cannister on the shelf? She made her way back there to explore it more closely.

“It’s just tea.” Without turning around, Katsuko had apparently figured out her intent. Sute opened the cannister anyway, since Katsuko was perfectly capable of lying to her.

Though not in this case. Tea.

Her sweet tooth still unsatisfied, Sute turned back to the pair at the desk. Katsuko leaned casually against Shingen, his hand was in the small of her back, slowly massaging tiny circles. He said something to her, something Sute could not hear, and Katusko leaned into his touch.

The hot look the two exchanged could have dried Sute’s clothes if she’d been any closer to them. If she hadn’t been in the room, they would probably already be naked. No longer able to stand being invisible, she planted herself in front of the desk. “What next?”

“Nothing for now. I’m expecting a few more reports from Suruga. I would prefer to have additional details before I send you out again.” Shingen picked up a sealed packet from the corner of the desk. “Take this back to Chiyome.”

She tucked the packet in her clothes, bowed to them, then scampered back up into the ceiling. Below her, she heard Katsuko say, in an amused voice, “Why doesn’t anyone use a door here?”

Shingen’s reply wasn’t loud enough for Sute to make out, she could only hear the low rumbling tone that had always reminded her of sweetened pastry. Low, rich, heavy on the tongue. Not that he ever used that tone with her anymore.

Oh well. Sute wasn’t one to dwell on old times. Besides...

She took three steps into the maze of ducts and corridors that crossed through the ceilings of Kasugayama before halting. She stood still for a count of twenty, waiting for Shingen and Katsuko to feel confident she was on her way. Then she crept back to the ceiling tile, the one she had left a crack open for this very purpose. If anyone caught her, she would simply tell them that she had forgotten her sandals and had turned back for them.

But no one had caught her yet – the only other person who regularly used these passages was Sasuke, and she knew him well enough to know he would not question her.

Carefully, silently, she lowered herself to her hands and knees to peer into the room. They were… talking.

Shingen had a map open on his desk, and Katsuko was listening to strategy as if it were the most exciting thing she’d heard in her life.

Were they only going to talk?

Had she sacrificed her shoes for this?

But then Katsuko put her hand on the map, possibly to make a point, maybe just to rest it, and Shingen brushed his fingers along her wrist. She smiled and him, and though Sute could not see his face from her perch, she could imagine. She could remember. His eyelids would lower a fraction while his eyes would darken with smokey interest.

Sute watched as Katsuko took her other hand and stroked his face. Their heads moved closer as he leaned in… the sigh of a kiss.

She slapped her hand over her mouth – had she been the one to make that sound? Quickly, she pulled her mask over her face, more as a reminder to stay quiet, than as a disguise.

Good, they hadn’t heard her.

Their embrace grew more intense; Shingen freed Katsuko’s hair from the leather wrap, and it dropped like a river, flowing over her shoulders and down her back. Sute’s fingers itched to wind themselves in that brown silk, even as she imagined Shingen’s mouth on her own breast.

As if he had read Sute’s mind, Shingen eased Katsuko’s kimono off her shoulder, and lowered his head to –

Sute thumbed her nipple, pinching it, allowing the rough fabric of her kimono to increase the friction. Shingen had never been as forceful with her as she wanted, but up here, surrounded by the symphony of Katsuko’s moans and Shingen’s deep breathing, Sute could arrange things just so.

In the room below, clothing was flung to the floor, and Shingen suddenly turned Katsuko around, balancing her on his desk so he could enter her from behind.

Yesssss.

Sute crept to the other side of the tile, thrilled to be able to see both their faces. She slipped her hand underneath the hakama she chose to wear for ease of movement. It was still wet from rain, but the material clinging to her pussy owed less to the weather and more to the unwitting show Shingen and Katsuko were providing.

Had they only invited her to take part, it would have made up for any discomfort. As it was, Sute had to make do on her own, stroking herself in a rhythm matching theirs.

If they had invited her, this would have been the moment that she slid down Katsuko’s belly, past her hips, deeper, lower, to get a taste of her, a taste of the juices that were pooling in response, around, Shingen’s cock.

Maybe Katsuko would gasp in surprise at the extra sensation, her voice one thrilled, long, ohhh…

And if Sute was lucky, very lucky, Shingen would ask her, “do you want some attention too, Angel?” He might pull her back up, and suck her breasts – yes, his teeth would tug on her nipple -while Sute would be free to capture Katsuko’s mouth with her own and –

Shingen scooped his hands under Katsuko’s ass and carried her out of sight, and only the sounds of their bodies hitting the futon mattress gave her a clue where they’d gone to.

Fuck.

She could still hear them, but their groans and murmured words of love were for each other. The slap of skin on skin did not include her.

Deprived of the view, Sute’s fantasy evaporated, leaving her empty, wanting…

She finished herself off, but the swift, weak orgasm left her unsatisfied, lonely. This was not the way things were supposed to end.

Rearranging her clothing, Sute got to her feet, just as she heard the two lovers cry out and then be silent. They were probably already snuggled up, wrapped in each other’s arms, drifting into sleep.

Now, Sute just wanted to be away, away from the closeness she was not part of. Her shoes could stay where they were for now. She’d get them later… after she paid a certain visit.

When dropping in on another ninja, the element of surprise is difficult to pull off. In fact, Sasuke didn’t even look up from his papers - weird symbols and diagrams – when Sute flipped herself out of the ceiling and landed gracefully in front of him. He simply gestured to the tea kettle that dangled over the irori. “There’s more than enough water in there for tea.”

He continued to make rapid calculations, aided by an abacus. Whatever he was doing was far beyond her understanding. But that was fine. There were other things that he could do that she understood perfectly well.

Uninterested in tea, she came up behind him to blow cool air on his neck. No apparent response. Fine. She wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him a light squeeze before letting one hand drift downward.

Ink splattered on the paper.

At last, she had his attention. He raised his head from his work, looked over his shoulder at her. “Ah. I understand now. This is a booty call.”

Half the time she had no idea what he was saying, and this was one of those times. “Is that a good thing?”

He pushed his glasses further up his nose. “I have, in fact, occasionally wondered whether afternoon delight is considered delightful due to the positioning of the sun.”

“It’s raining. Are we going to fuck or not?” If she didn’t shut him up, Sasuke was likely to talk forever. Later, when they were done, and cuddling (Sute liked the post sex cuddle… maybe more than she would admit out loud), she would be happy to listen to the sound of his voice. But right now, she wanted only his body to talk.

“Yes?” He made it sound like a question. “I’m at the precipice of figuring out something crucial and until I do, I won’t be able to give you all my attention. May I have five minutes to finish this equation?”

“I don’t know what a minute is.” She plopped down on his futon to watch him make quick markings with his brush, his fingers pausing to move the beads on the abacus. His brush and clacks combined with the patter of rain on the roof should have been soothing, but Sute only lasted a few breaths of stillness before she jumped up and prowled the room.

Bored…

Bored…

Squirrel!

“Kunai!” Sute amused herself with Sasuke’s pet for a while, tossing nuts for the squirrel to chase around the room before that also got boring.

Sasuke was still face first in his project.

I should have visited Yoshimoto instead.

Eager to hurry him along, she stripped off her still damp clothing, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stand naked in front of him. She’d kept her movements sharp and brisk, not to entice but to remind. I’m here. Aren’t you hungry for me? Making sure to keep within his line of sight, she walked over to a kimono rack and tossed her wet clothing over it. When she turned back around, Sasuke was watching. “I’m wet from the rain.”

She could see his throat constrict when he swallowed, then coughed. After clearing his throat, he said, “My apologies. I did not mean to objectify you.”

“If that means getting you inside me faster, you can objectify me all you want.” Keeping her eyes on his face, she strode over to him and took the brush out of his now slack fingers. “I want to objectify you too.”

“That… seems like it’s only fair.”

“Good.” She paused, leaving her hands a breath away from his body. “What does objectify mean? Am I doing it right?”

“As always with subjective constructs, it’s open to interpretation, but for the sake of brevity, one could say… mmmmf.” She’d slapped her hand over his mouth. He mumbled a “yes” into her palm.

“You talk too much.” She tugged at his hakama, yanking it roughly past his hips, revealing he was already erect underneath the fundoshi. She untucked that final barrier of fabric, as he watched her, now finally silent. Maybe she’d scared him speechless. That was ok. She didn’t need words and sometimes Sasuke’s just bounced around in her head like tiny tamari balls. Good thing he was very skilled at the non-talking stuff too.

Already, he was wrapping his hands in her damp hair as he deftly removed the leather wrap that was entangled in there, easily smoothing away that snarls caused by a long day in the wet (and to be honest, she didn’t remember if she’d combed it this morning.).

This was … nice.

No. This was too intimate. Like a mother brushing through a child’s hair. She’d not known hers at all, but when she was in the orphan home, one of the older girls used to brush out her hair and braid it in a neat queue. It had been the best part of the day, having her hair brushed.

But now, she didn’t want him to be gentle. She wanted release, so she pulled the rest of his clothes off, leaving him standing in only his glasses. Experience had taught her to wait until they were safely in bed to remove those.

Now that all the barriers between them were gone, she sprang at him and he caught her automatically, lifting her until her legs were around his waist. “It’s about time.” She dragged his face to her and claimed his mouth, biting his lip in her eagerness to-

“Sasuke, I – Oh. What? Uh.” Yukimura was half frozen in the entry, having slid the door open without knocking. In his surprise, he looked like a garden statue, motionless, dropped jaw, eyes bugged out. “Sorry! Sorry! I’ll come back later! I mean. Tomorrow! I’ll come back tomorrow!”

Ooooh.

Sute had always wanted a taste of Yukimura, but their paths rarely crossed, and when they did, she’d been too busy to give him a go. “You don’t have to leave. I don’t mind if you want to watch.”

With Sasuke’s body pressed so close to hers, she could feel his pulse speed up at her suggestion. Interesting. She wondered if Sasuke too had sometimes watched people from a perch in the ceiling.

There was no response from Yukimura. It was as if the two men were stuck in an endless pause, both thrilled and scared of her suggestion.

Adding a little weight to scale, Sute pressed herself closer to Sasuke, then turned to wink at Yukimura. “Or…” She added a pause to let him start imagining. “Join us.”

She liked that idea. Oh, how she did. Snuggling up against one person was lovely, but two. Two would be perfection.

Neither man moved, but she could feel Sasuke trembling beneath her.

I have to do everything around here.

She climbed off Sasuke and walked toward Yukimura, putting a purposeful sway in her step. When she halted in front of him, she reached over and ruffled his hair. The whole time… his eyes were on Sasuke, not hers.

“Sute.” Sasuke’s voice was shaky, but there was a tone of warning in it. “Don’t objectify Yuki.”

“Huh?”

Ha! Yukimura didn’t understand what Sasuke said either. It wasn’t just Sute who got confused.

“Yuki, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Sasuke hadn’t made any effort to cover himself, but she thought that was because he had forgotten he was naked.

She made an obvious show of putting her hands behind her back. “See! I’m not objectifying!”

“Geez.” Yukimura now raked his own hand through his hair until it almost stood on end. “I. Don’t. Not. Want to.”

“Oh! Good! Come on!” Not one to waste time, Sute grabbed his hand and flung him toward the futon. Surprised, off balance, he stumbled and fell into Sasuke.

Should she close the door now? For herself, Sute didn’t much care who might walk by and witness them, but… Yukimura and Sasuke might be more fun if they weren’t worried about additional visitors. She slid it shut, then turned to see Yukimura and Sasuke sitting side by side on the futon. Yukimura fidgeted with the corner of his clothes, while Sasuke politely kept his hands to himself. She noticed that his body was angled slightly toward Yukimura, even as he refused to look at anything but the floor.

“Yukimura, you have too many clothes on.” She faked a pout, pursing her lips like a courtesan. “I could help you.”

He sputtered a few nonsense syllables, then Sasuke looked at her and opened his mouth to speak.

Sute interrupted before he could get a word out. “Did I objectify again?”

“There’s a colloquial expression where I am from. Patience is a virtue.” His strange speech seemed even stranger coming from a man wearing nothing but a pair of glasses.

Yukimura rolled his eyes and looked at Sute. ‘Can you believe this guy’ was written all over his face. He and Sute had united against Sasuke’s big words, and finally she felt let in to both sides of the triangle.

United enough that when Yukimura fumbled with his clothing, it was both Sute and Sasuke who helped him – Sute pulled his sash open while Sasuke briefly squeezed Yukimura’s hand before tugging the kimono off his shoulder.

As always, his face gave away nothing. But his breathing, Sute knew, even without thinking about it, that this was something Sasuke had imagined happening… and when Yukimura’s breath sped up in response –

This time Sute did not feel lonely. She’d been part of this, she’d helped them along. When they looked back on this moment, she would be in the memory of it too.

That certainty led her to join them on the mattress, cuddling up to Sasuke to kiss his mouth, then immediately to Yukimura to kiss him too, as if she were transferring Sasuke’s kiss in the process.

I kiss you. I kiss him.

Back to Sasuke, who this time responded with light pressure. Again, she took his kiss to Yukimura, delivering it as a courier.

I kiss you. I kiss him.

Until finally… Sasuke and Yukimura bypassed her and came together in a kiss that ramped up from curious to urgent before Sute could blink.

She sat back like a proud parent watching a baby warlord take his first sparring match, until Sasuke, ever the polite Sasuke, yanked her into the tangle of limbs, and Yukimura’s mouth found her breast –

Now, yes now, that his control had broken, Sute found the force of Yukimura’s urgency exactly matched her needs. “Yes. Bite. Please. Harder.”

Teeth and tongue nearly made her leap off the futon, as the sharp, sweet sensation raced through her.

No more watching –

Outside, thunder rolled, and rain pounded against the walls, rattling the building, muffling sound.

Inside, Sute lost herself in this storm, mouths, hands, sweat, the sticky salty taste –

The driving rain mixed with Yukimura’s guttural moans and Sasuke’s praise of Gods whose names she had not heard of – her own voice urging them not to stop –

It was Yukimura who filled her – rough thrusts, his thickness stretching her just to the point of discomfort, but it was a good discomfort and she ground herself into him, digging her fingers into his shoulders, feeling his muscles contract under her touch. She angled her hips to take him deeper, her body rushing her onward, straining for release.

Barely, she was aware that Sasuke’s arms were wrapped around Yukimura from behind, his mouth clamped on the other man’s neck.

I want…

I want…

And then no more wanting as she came with a scream moments before Yukimura erupted inside of her.

For a moment, she couldn’t move and lay there, melting into a boneless puddle.

After the sparks behind her eyelids faded, and Yukimura had rolled off her, she saw that Sasuke was still waiting for satisfaction. “Fair is fair, ninja.” Her voice sounded rusty, raw, from her screams.

She crawled across Yukimura, intending to take Sasuke in her mouth, but Yukimura got there first, stroking his friend far more hesitantly than he had fucked her.

So, with her chin resting on Yukimura’s chest, she again became the watcher, but this time it was ok. She was still with them. Still here. And when Sasuke’s cum finally spurted onto Yukimura’s hand, Sute felt like she was just as responsible.

Warm, comfortable, she half dozed, drifting in and out of childhood memories, while Yukimura and Sasuke continued kissing lazily. As a little girl, she’d shared a bed with three other orphans, kept warm in winter like a pile of kittens. This felt the same. Warm. Together. Once again safely snuggled, protected from the weather, even as rain pattered steadily against the wall.

She curled up between them, her head using Yukimura’s arm as a pillow, then Sasuke reached between her legs, his skilled fingers gently teasing her, slow waves that crested into another orgasm, one that sent her drifting into sleep.

Time passed.

Possibly they all slept.

As the room turned from rain dimmed to night’s darkness, Yukimura stirred and mumbled something about needing to leave. He didn’t make any effort to move, and Sute took the moment to pull both men closer. “We could do this again sometime.”

Sasuke’s answer was in his rapid heartbeat and held breath, until Yukimura said, “Uh. Yeah. Again. That would be. Ok. Or. Good even.”

“I concur.” Sasuke’s voice was a whisper over her shoulder.

Sute couldn’t wait for the next rainy day.

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.