Eidolon

Reon neared the end of his kata with a sharp stance, his chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths, and the final, sharp kiai echoed in the hall before fading into the stone. Without pausing to rest, he started toward her, his breathing already slowing from a labored pant to a calmer rhythm as he walked, rapidly morphing into deep, controlled draws.

The rigid tension in his frame remained despite the cool-down. His quick eyes, which had tracked her entrance, now burned with a different kind of focus. Her frame in the kimono, her face a canvas of warring emotions, was a provocation. The memory of her naked beneath him, the taste of her, and the confounding allure of her honesty collided within him.

Rei turned to face him, her expression a mixture of trepidation and unwavering determination. She gave a single, respectful nod and quickly poured a cup of the cold tea, her eyes flickering up to take in the sight of his sweat-slicked, tattooed chest under his open top. She climbed to her feet and held the cup out to him.

He stopped directly before her, his gaze sweeping over the image she presented: swallowed by one of his own dark red kimonos, the fabric pooling around her frame, the neckline gaping to offer a tantalizing view of her cleavage. The offered tea was a quaint, almost domestic gesture in the midst of their charged dynamic. He took the cup and downed the cold liquid in one fast, efficient gulp, his eyes then flicking to the folded red gi on the table beside her.

“You brought more new clothes?” he asked, his tone lightly mocking, a hint of suspicion about a potential repeat of her earlier patterned outfits evident in his expression. “I did,” she confirmed, her hands fidgeting slightly within the oversized sleeves of her kimono, “But it’s not from the modeling brand. It’s from a sports store.” 

Taking a steadying breath, she met his gaze with earnest curiosity, “I was actually hoping… to train with you again.” She motioned toward the gi and straightened with determination, wanting him to see her genuine interest. “I know I’m nowhere near your level,” she continued quickly, “or… Takumi’s.” The name made Reon’s jaw tighten at the unwelcome reminder. She saw the subtle tension in him at the comparison, the mention of her primary master hanging in the air between them, “But I would still like to learn. I actually love training martial arts, and… well you’re hands down the best fighter I’ve ever met.”

Her admission, so simple and sincere, temporarily entranced him. He remembered their sparring during the ritual, her intuition, the surprising strength in her slender frame, the way she absorbed a lesson even through pain and humiliation. She wasn’t at all proficient by the standards of a high-level Oni enforcer. But for her context, a corporate muse, a concubine, her level and innate fighting intuition were, he had to admit, truly impressive. The prospect of honing that innate talent, of having her as a dedicated student, presented another intriguing form of control, one that appealed to the martial master within him as much as the man.

A predatory smile spread across Reon’s face as he watched her. He saw the spark in her eyes, not just fear or submission, but a genuine passion for the art itself. The realization that his greatest love, martial arts, might also be one of hers felt like another thread binding her to him, tightening the knot of his growing fixation.

“I would love to school you, Kitsu,” he said, his voice a low purr. The phrasing was deliberately ambiguous, laden with the promise of both physical discipline and carnal knowledge. Rei’s heart skipped a beat, a frantic flutter of anticipation and alarm. Yet, a brilliant, eager smile broke through her trepidation. She began to untie the obi of the kimono, ready to change into the gi.

Reon’s gaze intensified, heating the air between them. “A warning would be customary… before undressing before a man,” he chided, though his tone was thick with invitation, not reproach. Rei paused, the dark red silk pooling around her hips. She was unsure of the protocol, but she felt no fear, only a rising heat of her own. Meeting his scorching gaze, she felt her own desire override her caution. 

“Then be warned,” she declared, her voice bold and clear, “I’m going to remove the kimono and dress in the gi.” With that, she let the garment fall, revealing her body in its entirety. She had chosen not to wear the damp G-string, preferring nakedness to its clammy discomfort, though under Reon’s appraising stare, she was growing rapidly wet.

She moved to reach for the red gi, but Reon was faster. In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance, his hands gripping her waist and lifting her effortlessly against him. The movement was so organic, that she wrapped her legs around his hips and her fingers interlaced behind his neck without a single conscious thought. Her lips drifted dangerously close to his, the pull undeniable.

At the last second, she caught herself, her own imposed boundary a sharp, internal check. She pulled back just a fraction, her breath mingling with his. Their eyes locked, and she went searching for Karasu, but found something different. Reon’s irises were a fractured, crystalline blue, more complex and mesmerizing than she remembered. In that moment, they were all she could see, a deep, involuntary exhale escaping her as she fell into their depths.

He moved, pressing her back against the cold, unyielding surface of a stone pillar. The shock of the cold stone against her bare skin was a stark contrast to the heat of his body. She could feel him, hard and growing rapidly beneath the rough fabric of his gi, pressing insistently against her. The thin barrier of cloth was a tantalizing promise of the intimacy she had requested, that he had avoided and she now found herself craving more than ever.

He backed her harder against the cool, immense stone pillar, his body pressing her into the unyielding surface. One hand hooked under her left thigh, hiking it up to wrap her legs around his hip, while the other found her neck, his thumb stroking her bottom lip with a gentleness that belied the intensity in his eyes.

Her arousal was apparent, a slick heat against him. He had seen it, how she had almost kissed him as he moved to pin her. The desire to seize her mouth, to conquer that bastion of her resistance, was a physical ache. But he was a man of his word. Tonight he would not break her two restrictions, only take what she freely gave.

His cock grew painfully at the thought, straining against the rough fabric of his gi. The idea of training vanished, replaced by the far more compelling sport of her body. “Do you still want me to fuck you, Kitsu?” he growled, the words rough against her ear. Rei’s answer was a soft, surrendering sigh.

One of the hands she had laced behind his neck glided down, over the damp, hard planes of his chest, down the defined ridges of his abdomen. Her touch was a brand. “I want that,” she whispered, her voice husky with a need that mirrored his own, “more than anything right now, Reon.”