Eidolon

Warning! (PG18)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

Connections with Karasu

Rei stayed at the table, her hands suddenly shaking around her cup. She had held her own, but Takumi Senior was on a whole different level than his son. His intensity rivalled Karasu’s. What now? Would she be owned by another powerful man, still a pawn, but on a different board? Was it any better, any different. Besides… she loved Karasu.

As much as she had tried to push it away, to morph her tenderness into revenge and hate, she felt it clearer than ever, how she cared deeply for Karasu. She knew he cared for her too; otherwise, he wouldn’t have pushed her away, otherwise he would have taken advantage of her and then kicked her out the minute she became a disadvantage. Would he help her, could he even help her against a high-ranking exec like Takumi? Just as her head was spinning at top speed Karasu joined her in the booth and her mind went blank. Him and his blue cigarette were the only things she could see. Before she knew it, she had tears in her eyes. Karasu’s brow furrowed and he slid closer, pulling her to him and letting her cry on his shoulder, her hands gripping onto him like a life raft.

The world was reduced to the scent of blue cigarette smoke and the solid, unwavering presence beside her. The club’s noise, the lingering ghost of Takumi Senior’s oppressive power, the terrifying future he’d just laid out; it all blurred into a distant hum. The dam inside Rei broke. Tears she’d been holding back since the love hotel, since every day after Karasu’s rejection, since the sheer terror of facing a man who could erase her with a word, spilled over. She didn’t sob; it was a silent, shuddering collapse, her shoulders trembling as she buried her face against the rough wool of Karasu’s suit vest. Her hands, that had been steady enough to negotiate with a titan, now clutched at him like she was drowning.

He didn’t push her away. His arm came around her, pulling her firmly against his side, his grip strong and certain. He was an anchor in her sudden, violent storm. He let her cry, his silence a greater comfort than any hollow reassurance could ever be. When the worst of the tremors had passed, his voice cut through the haze, low and steady, “Tell me everything.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a command from her boss, her mentor, the man who owned the shadows she operated in. But beneath the steel, she heard it; the faint, almost imperceptible tremor of something else. A protectiveness that went beyond business. She took a ragged breath, her voice muffled against his shoulder, “Takumi’s father, Senior,” she choked out, “He was here to threaten us.” Karasu went very still. The arm around her tightened, “Go on.”  The words tumbled out in a rushed, hushed whisper; the assessment, the threat, the cold calculation. The devil’s bargain: become his spy or perish. She left nothing out, not even her own reckless negotiation, her audacious suggestion that had so perversely intrigued the Kuroda patriarch.

“He wants me to report on his son… to him,” she finished, her voice cracking, “He said… he said he knows who you are. That you’ve overreached.” She felt the low growl rumble in Karasu’s chest before she heard it. It was a sound of pure, undiluted fury. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t question. He just let her purge the poison. When she was done, spent and hollow, he was silent for a long moment, his fingers absently tracing a slow, calming circle on her back. “Look at me,” he said, his voice quiet but absolute.

Rei reluctantly lifted her head, her face streaked with mascara and tears. Karasu’s expression was terrifyingly calm, but his eyes were blazing with a cold, murderous fire. “You are not his pawn,” he stated, each word a hammer strike, “You are mine.” The possessiveness in his tone was no longer just a statement; it was a vow, “And no Kuroda exec, no matter how high-ranking, gets to threaten what’s mine and just walk away with it.”

He used his thumb to wipe a tear from her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the anger rolling off him. “He thinks he’s playing a game of espionage,” Karasu continued, a slow, dangerous smirk touching his lips. It was the most frightening expression she had ever seen on him, “But he just walked into my territory and challenged me in my own house. He has no idea what kind of game this really is”, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for her, “We are going to play his game. You will report to him. You will tell him exactly what I order you to tell him. And we are going to use his own arrogance against him.” He cupped her face, forcing her to hold his gaze, to see the absolute certainty there.

“Do you trust me?”

The question was simple. The answer was everything. In that moment, with the scent of him surrounding her and the fire of his vengeance promising to shelter her, there was only one answer. “Yes,” she breathed. “Good,” he said, his smile morphing into something sharper, “Then let’s give Takumi Senior exactly what he wants. A distraction.”

After that Karasu was called away and he ordered her to go rest. Rei nodded, moving to stand on shaky legs and walked up to the apartment’s bathroom. She began removing her tear-stained make-up. The bathroom’s fluorescent light was unforgiving, highlighting the redness around her eyes and the pale, vulnerable skin of her freshly scrubbed face. Rei stared at her reflection, the femme fatale glamour washed away, leaving behind the girl from the streets who cried more in a week than she had in years. Weakness, she cursed herself, gripping the edge of the sink. He needs a weapon, not a weeping girl.

She didn’t hear him approach. There was a shift in the light behind her and she didn’t need to turn to know it was him. His presence filled the doorway, a silent, watchful storm. She could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, tracing the line of her spine where the dress dipped low. They stayed in the harsh, buzzing silence, until she caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, a framed silhouette. Slowly, she turned. Karasu leaned against the frame, a blue cigarette smoldering between his fingers. He looked perfect in his vest, sleeves rolled up. His piercing blue eyes were not on the towel with the remains of her ruined makeup, but on her face, stripped bare, pale and achingly pure.

His sharp eyes were darker than usual, a turbulent sea of conflict and something hotter, something primal. They swept over her; the innocent, tear-stained face, so unguarded, juxtaposed violently with the woman’s body poured into black lace, fishnet, and the promise of the garters he knew were there. Rei froze, her breath catching. She expected an assessment, a lesson on composure. Instead, his gaze was warm. It was a look she’d rarely seen, a quiet, deep tenderness that made her stomach flutter. Despite all her new-found confidence, all the power she’d learned to wield over men, no one could unravel her and make her blush like him. A hot flush crept up her neck to her cheeks. She shifted closer and lifted her face to him, the tile cold beneath her bare feet.

“I…”, she started, her voice barely a whisper. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him, her dark eyes shimmering. “Karasu…”, her voice was softer than she intended. She took another step toward him, her feet silent on the tile, “Thank you for… out there. For not just… look I know I’m a complication and I know…,” she gestured between them, at her puffy eyes and his impeccable calm, “…this isn’t simple.” She swallowed, her courage faltering for a second before she found it again, “But I’ll be worth it. I’ll be the best asset you’ve ever had. I’ll be everything you need me to be.” She took yet another step, now close enough to smell the familiar scent of his smoke and cologne, a combination that felt more like home than the apartment ever had. She took a shaky breath, the words she’d locked away threatening to spill out. There was no calculated move here, no game. Just a raw, terrifying truth,“And… I love you.”

The words hung in the air, simple and devastating. Karasu didn’t move. The cigarette burned down, a curl of smoke rising, the only movement in the still room. The storm in his eyes raged; a war between the ruthless Spider who owned the night and the man who remembered what it was to want something for himself. Love was a liability. Love was a leash. Love got people killed. He didn’t speak, just looked at her, standing there in the stark light. A paradox. The gorgeous, deadly creature in a dress of black silk, a weapon he had helped forge. And the girl with the freshly scrubbed, innocent face, offering him her heart with quivering hands.

He had built his entire existence on being untouchable, on having no weaknesses. And she, standing before him in a confession of lace and honesty, was the greatest vulnerability he had ever faced. His jaw was clenched tight. He should push her away, should give her the hard truth about the world they lived in. He should extinguish this dangerous flame before it consumed them both. But as he looked at her, the defiance in her spine, the hope in her eyes, the devastating contrast of purity and sin she embodied; all his carefully constructed walls crumbled into dust.

With a low, guttural sound that was half growl, half surrender, he closed the remaining distance between them. He brought a hand up, not to grab her, not to pull her, he simply cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking away the lingering dampness from a tear she’d missed. He pulled her to him, his fingers tangling in her ruby hair, his other arm banding around her waist, crushing her against the hard lines of his body. The forgotten cigarette fell to the floor, extinguished by a drop of water.

“Rei,” he said, her name a low, rough sigh on his lips. It wasn’t an agreement. It wasn’t a rejection. It was an acknowledgment. “Everything I need? That’s exactly the issue Rei. You already are,” he growled against her temple, his voice raw with a truth he could no longer deny. He leaned in, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he would kiss her. Instead, he pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. They stood like that, breathing the same air, the electric hum of the light the only sound. And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t like the wild passion she’d provoked before. This was something else entirely; a claiming, yes, but also a surrender. It was hungry and desperate confession of everything he’d refused to say. It was an answer to her confession, a seal on a pact written not in shadows, but in fire. When he finally broke away, both of them were breathless. He held her, eyes closed, his breathing ragged. “Baka,” he whispered, the Japanese word for fool sounding like an endearment, “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

But for the first time, the words held no threat, no distance. Only a terrifying, exhilarating heat. He had drawn a line, and she had vaulted over it. And now, there was no going back. For either of them. It was the closest to I love you she would ever get from him. And for Rei, in that moment, with his thumb gently stroking her cheek, it was everything. It was a tenderness she hadn’t known he possessed, an openness he showed no one else. It was, she realized, his own way of claiming her. Not with ownership, but with a quiet, devastating reverence that sealed her heart to his completely. The worship in his touch, the raw admission in his quiet words, shattered the last of Rei’s defenses. The space between them, charged for so long with games and worry, now hummed with a different, more potent energy. A simple, undeniable need.

When his lips found hers again, it was slow. A question and an answer all at once. His kiss was deep, tasting of everything essentially Karasu. Rei disappeared into it, her hands coming up to clutch his shoulders, not to pull, but to anchor herself in the dizzying current of sensation. He broke the kiss, his breath warm on her face. His pupils blown wide, but eyes searched hers, watching, waiting for the slightest flicker of hesitation. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that vibrated through her. “Don’t you dare,” she breathed back, her own voice unsteady. A smile touched his lips. That was all the permission he needed, and all the permission he would ask for.

He didn’t sweep her into his arms. Instead, he took her hand, his fingers lacing through hers with a new sweetness that made her heart stutter and led her from the harsh light of the bathroom into the shadowed intimacy of his bedroom. The room was bathed in low light, clean lines, the scent of sandalwood and old cigarette buds surrounding them. He turned her to face him, his hands going to the intricate fastening at the back of her dress. His fingers as swift and sure as with a cigarette or a data chip. His unwavering precision made her love him more. The silk whispered apart, and the dress pooled at her feet, leaving her in just the fishnet stockings, garters, and a delicate lace slip. He didn’t immediately touch her. He just looked, his gaze a physical caress that burned hotter than any touch. He drank her in; the soft strength of her body, the curve of her hip, her generous bosom, the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. It was a look of pure, unvarnished want, but it was layered with something deeper.

“You are beyond beautiful,” he said, the words stark and honest, devoid of his usual calculated charm. Then his hands were on her and any thought of gentleness vanished, replaced by a consuming intensity. He was not a gentleman, he was a man who took what he wanted, and he wanted her with a ferocity that stole her breath. He backed her toward the bed, his mouth finding hers again, more insistent now. His hands roamed, mapping every curve and plane through the thin lace, learning her with a ruthless, focused attention.

When they tumbled onto the cool sheets, it was a tangle of limbs and strong hands. He peeled away the last of her clothing, and then his own, with an efficiency that spoke of long-pent desire. Skin met skin. Rei gasped at the feel of him; all hard muscles and smooth nakedness, the faint ridges of old scars, the shocking heat of him pressed against her.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue interweaving with hers, and then his mouth began to wander. Down her throat, across her collarbone, lower. He worshipped her with his lips and tongue, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps and moans from her that were swallowed by the quiet room. His hands were everywhere, coaxing, demanding, pulling sensations from her she didn’t know she could feel. He was utterly focused on her, his eyes constantly flicking up to her face, watching her reactions, learning what made her breath catch, what made her fingers clutch at the sheets. He was a master, and her pleasure was his new, most fascinating puzzle to solve.

“Karasu…” she moaned, her head thrashing on the pillow, lost in a rising tide of feeling. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough with his own need. Her eyes, heavy-lidded with pleasure, fluttered open to meet his. The connection was electric, more intimate than anything they were doing with their bodies. In that gaze, she saw the the controlled chaos, the dangerous edge, but she also saw the veneration. He was claiming her, but he was honoring her. He was ensuring that her first time with him was not just taken, but given, and shared completely.

When he finally entered her, it was with a slow, controlled push that made her cry out, a sound he swallowed with a kiss. A moment of acute, breathtaking force, and he stilled, his entire body rigid above her, his face a mask of strained control. “Are you alright?” he gritted out, the words thick. She nodded, unable to speak, her nails digging into his shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. It was an answer, an acceptance, a demand. That broke the last of his control. The rhythm he set was not gentle. It was primal, a driving need that matched the frantic beating of her heart. But through it all, his eyes never left hers. He watched her, studied the play of pleasure and wonder on her face, and adjusted his movements to wring every last shuddering gasp from her.

He was not a gentle lover, but he was a generous one. He was making sure that her first, real night belonged to him, and him alone, in every devastating, glorious way. All she knew in those moments was the feel of him, the sight of his blue eyes locked on hers, and the building, shattering wave of her own release.