Eidolon

Warning (PG18)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

The next morning, Reon woke from a surprisingly deep and unbroken slumber. This in itself was an anomaly; he was a man who typically surfaced several times a night, his mind too sharp, his instincts too honed for true rest, and he always woke fully with the first hint of dawn. But as he blinked his eyes open and glanced at the wall of windows framing the Norwegian mountains, the sun was already high. It had to be at least nine.

The space beside him was empty. He reached out, and the sheets were cold. But on the pillow lay a single ruby hair, a tiny, intimate flag left behind. From down the hall, the scent of coffee, grilled fish, and the unmistakable, savory aroma of seaweed soup drifted to him.

He rose and dressed in a comfortable yukata, an unfamiliar flutter stirring in his chest. The prospect of seeing Kitsu, most probably setting out rice, soup, and side dishes for their breakfast, sent a jolt of anticipation through him. He hoped she wasn’t wearing those patterned horrors from the mall. More fervently, he hoped she was wearing nothing at all. He stretched, his muscles pleasantly sore from the angry katas and the intense, restrained and ultimately explosive passion of the night before. As he walked languidly down the hall, his steps slowed even further when he spotted her.

Rei was indeed plating an array of small, colorful dishes, clearly Korean-inspired banchan, beside bowls of steaming rice and miso soup. She was humming softly, a picture of domestic tranquility, wearing the white, embroidered linen shirt she had gifted him. It was unbuttoned low, and from what he could tell, she wore nothing else beneath it, the hem stopping tantalizingly at the middle of her thighs. Her hair was piled up in a messy knot secured by a single chopstick, still damp from a recent shower. Looking utterly at ease, as if she had always belonged in his kitchen, a blend of cute kitten and diligent wife.

When she heard him approach and turned, a slight blush colored her cheeks followed by a shy smile. The vision sent a domineering urge through him, a desire to hurry over and pin her to the floor right there. The only thing stopping him was her next expression; her smile turned cheeky as her eyes openly studied the lines of his torso beneath the thin yukata.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said, her voice laced with a confident heat that her charming blush directly contradicted, “Thank you for a very memorable night.” Her words and her body created a juxtaposition that was both adorable and deeply mischievous, stopping Reon short.

He paused, his gaze sweeping from her bare legs under his new shirt to her makeup-free face, which was, if possible, even prettier than he remembered. She was a paradoxical puzzle he was no longer sure he wanted to solve.

He caught himself feeling irresolute, a low chuckle escaping him at the sheer unfamiliarity of the scene and his own uncharacteristic wavering. Luckily for his pride, Rei had no baseline for the ‘usual’ him, the man who charged and never hesitated.

“Good morning Kitsu,” he bid her, finally closing the distance between them in two long, deliberate strides, ” – and thank you for last night”, he added, his tone a blend of seriousness and teasing. His hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb stroking her cheek before tracing the full curve of her bottom lip, a spark of intense attraction flaring at the memory. “Even though your little modeling stunt proved you have a long way to go as a good Oni concubine…”, he leaned closer, his voice dropping, “…in regard to a concubine’s other, arguably more essential, duties… you are a natural. I have no complaints.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Rei gasped softly, leaning into his strong frame and placing her palms flat on his chest, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his yukata to feel the warm skin and defined muscle beneath. Reon paused, savoring the sensation of her daring caress, then continued, his voice growing huskier. “Although,” he murmured against her hair, “the fact you fell asleep on me in the hot spring, dormant as a rock, forcing me to carry you all the way back… was not very becoming of a concubine.”

Rei blushed a deeper shade of pink, looking up at him through her lashes, her lips parted. Her hand continued its slow, distracting exploration of his chest. “That,” she whispered, her tone teasing but her eyes dead serious, “was really your fault… for making me come so hard I basically passed out.” An astonished, deeply entertained laugh burst from Reon. He leaned down until his lips were a mere millimeter from hers, his blue eyes dark with promise. “You have a sharp tongue, Kitsu,” he purred, “I find I very much want to taste it.” His gaze held hers, a clear declaration, “I’m done adhering to your requests.”

Then he seized her mouth, not with the bruising force she expected, but with astonishing gentleness. His lips were soft as clouds, moving over hers with a veneration that stole her breath away. As a silent, patient request for entry, his tongue grazed the seam of her lips. Rei opened for him, with an exhale that he swallowed, her own response a mirror of his explorative softness; a slow, deep tasting that was more intimate than any frantic coupling. It was a kiss that felt less like a conquest and more like a conversation, a profound understanding passing between them in the quiet of the sunlit kitchen.

They kissed for a long time, a slow, concentrated discovery that defied the frantic energy of the night before. There was no rush, no increase in tempo, only a gradual deepening of pressure and an intense sense of discovery. They broke apart only when the need for air became imperative, their foreheads resting together for a fleeting moment before their lips found each other again, as if drawn by an invisible thread. The air around them grew thick, charged not just with lust, but with the instinctive interchange between them.

Reon’s mind, a space that was always calculating, always plotting several moves ahead, went utterly and completely blank. It was a void of pure sensation, an experience so foreign he couldn’t recall the last time it had happened. Rei lost herself in the taste of him; clean, sharp, uniquely Reon.

A wave of relief washed over her; his kisses were nothing like Karasu’s. But with that relief came a new confusion. If they weren’t Karasu’s, then what were they? The more they kissed, the less she understood the specific alchemy of his contact, but the more her entire being craved it, a deep, cellular hunger she had no name for.

Reon was the one to pull away first. He held her at arm’s length, his hands firm on her biceps, his piercing eyes searching her face as if she had just landed from the moon. She looked back, curious and unguarded, her hands still absently stroking the bare skin of his chest where his yukata had fallen open.

An overwhelming sense of comfort settled over her. All the tension and fear that had coiled within her since arriving at the shrine had simply vanished. Rationally, she knew he was still a dangerous man with absolute power over her, but in that moment, she found she didn’t mind. Instead, a spark of keen interest ignited; a desire to see what he would do next, and a thrilling anticipation of how it would make her feel.

Reon saw this new, unshakable trust and willingness in her eyes, and it disarmed him all over again, throwing his own intentions into a tailspin. What did he want, beyond the immediate, visceral need to kiss her again, to lay her down on the tatami and lose himself in her? He suppressed the urge, the practical need for sustenance and the delicious aroma of the food breaking through his haze.

“The food looks ravishing,” he hummed, his voice rough. He moved to sit at the low table, pulling her down with him by the hand still on her arm. She didn’t resist. Instead, she seamlessly settled onto a cushion pressed close beside him, their legs touching. She reached across the table to pull her own bowl of soup and rice in front of her from the opposite side of the table, then turned and offered him a sweet, uncomplicated smile.

Reon began to eat, the flavors of the expertly prepared meal bursting on his tongue, but his mind was reeling, a chaotic whirlwind upended by the woman sitting sweetly beside him. The silence that settled between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the soft clink of porcelain and the subtle sounds of eating.

The breakfast was exquisite; the miso soup rich and savory, the grilled fish flaky and perfectly seasoned, the array of banchan a symphony of textures and flavors that spoke of Rei’s skill and care. Reon ate with genuine appreciation, but his primary focus was on the woman beside him.

Between bites, his gaze traced the graceful line of her profile, the delicate curve of her neck. A lusty impulse stirred within him. He reached out, his fingers hooking into the collar of the linen shirt and gently tugged it partially off one shoulder. Her pale skin was marked with the faint, distinct purpling of his bite marks from the night before. A sharp tug of satisfaction and renewed want rushed through him.

Rei allowed the gesture, her smile deepening into something knowing and suggestive. “You bite too hard,” she mumbled, her blush returning as she focused on her rice bowl. “Though I liked…”, she peeked up at him cautiously, her blush deepening, “…but… next time, maybe you could bite down a little less firmly?”

The words, her shy admission, sent a quake straight to his core, and he grew hard instantly. All his complex deliberations, the unwelcome envy of Kumi, the impending reality of his arrival around lunch, the novel, terrifying tenderness he felt simply sitting beside her, were incinerated in the heat of that single want.