Chapter Text
It's all hazy.
Everything goes so fast. She doesn't clearly recall how they got here in the first place. It's all snipits of images. Kiki and Mitsuhide had finally gotten married.
They're at the after wedding party... She laughs at something Obi says.
He's been drinking. Too much.
She's on her fourth glass, she knows she shouldn't have.
But she did anyway. They push too far. Their thin emotional barriers peel and burn as the space closes between them.
She remembers the way he smells, warm smoky pine. She just wants to bury her face in that smell and never come up.
She laughs, her hand comes to rest on his beating heart. His hands slide lower on her hip than usual. Something's burning. Crackling under their skin.
She can feel him. His want. His eyes glaze over and lean into her.
She needs to remember - remember something... something? Why has she never kissed him before? Why? She can't remember.
Her mind is cloudy. Her body is taut, senses alight with desire.
Her body wants so strongly it leaves her breathless.
The moment their lips touch she's gone. She can't-can't... stop.
They both lose to the heat. To the sheer force of this hidden desire and somehow end up in her room. Clothes are pulled, ripped. She's more drunk than him... or maybe it's the other way around.
Consent is slurred. She moans softly as his body slides against hers. Hard and smooth perfection, her legs wrap around his trim waist and she doesn't know...
Doesn't know or perhaps she doesn't care, how loudly she screams when he touches her
She can remember how good it feels. The slide of bare skin. His calloused hands slipping up her curves, down her legs, between her soft thighs. The sounds he makes - the utterly incredible feel of his mouth everywhere and beyond.
His finger hook inside her and she's in pieces, writhing and bowing against his hand.
His voice scrapes her insides deliciously.
And she's a molten pile of liquid passion. She can't breath, her fingers slip into his hair and pull a growl right out of him.
He gasps when she moves to slide against him. Her entrance hot and clenching for him, her voice raw, face flushing pink, she's soft and breathless and aching, legs spread for him.
The moment he slides into her the world fades to just them.
She knows, given this sort of emotional freedom ever again, she'd do it over and over until either of them breaks.
Shirayuki lives that night.