Eidolon

Warning (PG18)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

“Will you behave now, Kitsu?” Reon asked, his voice a caress that promised retribution.

Rei shivered, but when she looked up, her expression was one of surprising calm and resolve. “Honored Master,” she began, her tone respectful yet unyielding, “if you wish for my submission, I’m prepared to do whatever you demand of me.” She paused, letting the weight of her capitulation hang in the air. Then, she bowed her neck again, a picture of humility, “Though I certainly do not deserve it, I humbly have a plea regarding my boundaries. Other than these two boundaries, I promise not to resist anything you tell me to do.”

Reon’s expression shifted through a rapid cascade of emotions: surprise, annoyance, impressed interest, and finally, a reluctant, burning curiosity. He first scolded her, his voice hardening, “You request generosity from me, considering the severity of your blunder?” He paused, then reached out, his fingers gently caressing her cheek before tilting her face up to his. “Tell me your requests,” he conceded, a dangerous glint in his blue eyes, “Though I make no promise to grant your wishes.”

A flicker of possibility ignited in the depths of her dark eyes. “Thank you Reon,” she whispered. She took a steadying breath, her gaze holding his’ with a pleading intensity, “Firstly, I beg you… not to ask me to participate in any sodomy.” The bluntness of her request hung in the quiet room, stark and unadorned. Her eyes were unwavering, outlining a boundary with the sheer force of her will.

Reon’s grip on her chin tightened, but a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face, “You certainly get straight to the point, don’t you Kitsu?” Rei didn’t deny it, offering a cautious, fragile smile in return. “I’m fond of a clear reconciliation of expectations,” she admitted, “And I’m, as you instructed, using my fear to be careful. Even though I know you could choose to ignore my boundaries, I felt it was only right to inform you of them.”

She was not demanding; she was stating a fact, placing her vulnerability and her trust in his hands, a calculated risk that acknowledged his absolute power even as she tried to carve out a small space of safety within it.

Reon did not look pleased. Her attempt to draw lines and limit him was a flicker of defiance in his world of absolute control, and the prospect cast a harshness over his features. He leaned over her, his presence overwhelming, until the gentle pressure forced her to fall onto her back with a soft thud against the tatami mat. Now, as during the ritual, she lay beneath the cage of his body, his face inches from hers. One hand rested next her face, his fingers close to her ear, while the other caressed her cheek, his thumb grazing the fullness of her lips.

He hummed, a low, contemplative sound, as if solving a complex and frustrating equation. Even in her model’s makeup, the bold orange eyeliner still stark against her skin, even in the absurdly patterned clothes, her innate elegance and allure had been a constant, gnawing presence all evening. The memory of her in the golden lace from the ritual was superimposed over this current version of her.

The idea of being limited in how he could actualize his growing appetite for her was deeply unsatisfying. Yet, to his own surprise, he found himself equally frustrated by a competing desire: he didn’t just want to take her, he wanted her to want him to. He wanted her to ask for it, to crave his possession, not just endure it. This internal conflict threatened to bubble over. A low, guttural growl formed in his throat. Beneath him, Rei’s eyes widened with concern, her lips parting in a sudden exhale.

That expression, a mix of fear and something else, sent a fresh, potent wave of want through him. He pushed his thumb past her lips, into the warm, wet space of her mouth. Rei gasped around the intrusion, her breathing hitching. But to Reon’s intense interest, she didn’t look only afraid or turned on; she looked overwhelmingly confused.

Rei was bewildered, but not by his anger; she could see he wanted to claim her completely, yet he seemed to be warring with himself over whether to force the issue of her requests, or to focus his attention on other lanes for pleasure. What baffled her was the surge of her own desire and the strange, unsettling comfort she felt lying trapped beneath him. Rationally, it made no sense given his sadistic and cruel manipulations. The only explanation her mind could grasp was Reon’s haunting similarity to Karasu. The deep love and boundless, wild attraction she had felt for her first love were being dangerously projected onto this man who shared his eyes, the shape of his face. It turned her on in ways that felt like infidelity towards her purest adoration, and she fought feverishly against tainting it.

She was afraid that the cousins were too similar, and that she would, against her will, enjoy the impending intimacy perversely. The fear that she would not enjoy it, that she would have to suffer through it solely for his pleasure, unsettled her equally. Feelings of betrayal swirled in her consciousness; betrayal towards Karasu’s memory, betrayal towards Takumi’s fierce, complicated claim and, surprisingly, a flash of betrayal towards Reon himself.

It didn’t feel fair to use his likeness, to close her eyes and dream herself away to another time with another man while in his control. The personal details he had shared, his past in Korea, had made him more real and it complicated her resentment, tangling it inextricably with a growing, undeniable attraction.

Reon became fascinated by the conflicted, analytical look in her eyes, even with his thumb resting on her tongue. He slowly withdrew the digit, tracing a wet, possessive line down her throat. “Tell me your second request,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble, “while I’m still curious enough to entertain it.”

Rei swallowed, her throat working against the path his thumb had taken. She opened her mouth to speak, but in a single, swift motion, Reon grabbed the hem of her tiger-print crop top and pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. Revealed, her upper body was naked; in her hunt for comfort, she had forgone a bra.

A wave of disorientation washed over her, but she mastered it with breathtaking speed. As Reon’s hands immediately began to trace the curves of her breasts, his touch covetous, she forced her voice to remain steady. “Secondly,” she began, her breath hitching only slightly, “I would humbly request that we don’t kiss. Not on the mouth.”

Reon’s roaming hands stilled. He looked up, genuine amazement etched on his face. In his world, kissing was often a triviality; a prelude, a test, a habitual gesture. For her to place it in the same category as sodomy, to deny him this seemingly simple intimacy after all the other liberties he could take, seemed disproportionate. “Why?” he asked, his interest fully captured. He moved his face closer, his lips hovering inches from hers, their breath mingling in the small, charged space.

Rei fought against the magnetic pull of his proximity. Her breath grew ragged, a deep blush spreading across her chest and neck. She met his intense gaze with determined honesty, “Because kissing is emotional. It’s a window to the soul… a meeting of souls.” She hesitated, the name catching in her throat, “But you look so… so much like him. I’m afraid that if we kiss, I would imagine I was with him, which wouldn’t be fair to you.” 

Her frustration and confusion broke through her composure, “and I’m afraid your kiss would make me forget how he kissed. That it would change my memory of him, morphing his kisses into yours.” Reon’s expression shifted through a complex cocktail of emotions: intellectual interest, personal annoyance and a thrill at the sheer novelty of her reasoning. “So,” he clarified, his voice a whisper against her lips, “you do not wish to kiss me because you’re afraid it will ruin your nostalgia for your old lover? You want to keep that memory sacred?”

A sudden, grateful smile touched Rei’s lips. “I wasn’t sure how to explain it, but yes, something like that”, she admitted, then composed herself, her gaze softening with a surprising sincerity, “And it’s also… I truly don’t feel it would be respectful towards you, to think of someone else while… while we are so close.”

She glanced away, gathering her courage before looking back, her dark eyes holding his, “If I’m your concubine too, and you are my master as well as Takumi… then I want to get to know you – for you. And that…”, she admitted, the name a haunt between them, “…will take more time because of Kara… because of your cousin.”

Reon was impressed. Her continued honesty in the face of his absolute power was a rare and intoxicating commodity. He understood her reasoning, even if he found it profoundly naive. “You are thoroughly overthinking things, Kitsu,” he stated, his voice a low murmur as he gazed down at her, “I’m not inclined to help you maintain memories of past lovers. Besides, though we may share a superficial resemblance, I’m not my cousin. A kiss would be the most direct way for you to determine that. After all, I agree that a kiss, when done properly, is a spiritual act.”

A confident smile touched his lips as he focused on her perfectly shaped mouth. He began to lower himself, intent on claiming the intimacy she had so boldly denied him. Rei exhaled in alarm. In a purely instinctual, unthinking reflex, she turned her head, and his lips met only the soft skin of her cheek.

He stilled, frozen in shock. In his entire life, through his years as a sought-after model, through his ascent in the Iron Oni, no one had ever dodged a kiss from him. The rejection was a biting sting, far more potent than any physical blow. Rei realized what she had done a second too late. “I—I’m sorry, Reon” she mumbled, her voice tight with panic, “I didn’t mean to disobey, it was a reflex…”

Reon stood up in one tight controlled motion. He turned away from her, his back rigid as he collected himself, condensing the flash of vivid anger and bruised ego into a cold, calculated plan. When he turned back to face her, his expression was impersonal, a mask of critical calm. Rei watched the transformation, her palms growing clammy, watching the warmth and curiosity vanish, replaced by the detached focus of a master. She quickly got to her knees, bowing low in apology, but offering no further excuses. The smooth, flawless line of her naked spine was a silent plea and a testament to her submission.

“Follow me,” he commanded, his voice devoid of all emotion. He turned and walked towards his private quarters. Rei hurried to her feet and followed diligently, maintaining a formal three-step distance. She slowed as they entered his bedroom: a fusion of Western comfort and traditional Japanese aesthetic. A magnificent wooden bedframe, a marvel of joinery and craft, stood in the center. An entire wall was a window framing a breathtaking view of the mountain valley, while the soft, diffused light from numerous rice paper lamps cast a gentle glow from the ceiling.