Chapter Text
It is a warm, pleasant morning in the heart of spring. The morning star has disappeared back into the great above, the sun has risen, the birds sing their morning songs and the wind blows gently atop the blades of grass that cloak that tiny cottage up in the mountains, an island secluded from the rest of the world in only the best ways possible.
Uta cannot imagine something more heavenly than this. She's tried, but nothing lives up to it.
She awakens in their quaint little house in a pleasingly numb haze as she stares at the ceiling above; faintly fatigued from last night's activities, her senses begin to awaken as the delight of memories coming back to her intoxicates her soul, rousing her from the sleepy paralysis most find themselves in upon the opening of their eyes. The scents of sweat and sex loom abundantly in the house, and she can still taste the wonderful mirth of his lips on hers and the salted delight of his own body. It's quiet – blissfully so, and all she can hear is the slow and peaceful breathing of her partner and the chorus of their winged friends outside. It's warm, but not hot, which is convenient since the sheets of their bedding are haphazardly crumpled and folded in odd configurations – with the only parts of their bodies covered in any conceivable way being their lower halves. And that's nothing to mention the fact they have made no effort to dress. A slick texture still clings to her skin, for her better half had spoiled her absolutely rotten by treating her to a full-body oil massage the night before. It was a prelude to their night of lovemaking. It smelt, and still smells, faintly of sandalwood.
She rolls over, propping herself up with her left arm, to look at the man beside her. Her love. Her husband. The one she didn't know she needed in her life before they met. Yoriichi. He sleeps, serene and sublime, his breaths raising and lowering his exposed torso in a harmonizing cycle. His head mounted on a pillow, his long, unkempt hair pools beneath him and knots wildly, with occasional strands of it diverting from the greater shape. The talismans that typically hang from his ears like beacons of hope and comfort aren't there currently – an admission, perhaps, that what happens between them stays between them – no divination or protection from a deity is needed during the celebrations of their intimacy.
She takes a stray strand of his hair that's darted out from the more uniform whole of his braid and wraps it gently between her fingers, over and over again. His fabulous, vibrant crimson locks. Never ever has she seen someone with such spectacular hair. According to Yoriichi, his own brother had been born with the same red locks, but she doubts his could compare. Even when he sleeps, Uta thinks, he still manages to maintain the serenity and grace of a spirit. He's so ethereal, so unfathomably elegant in every single thing he undertakes, that she can't help but feel that she's constantly finding new ways to fall in love every time she casts her eyes on him. She smiles and lets go of his hair, cups his left cheek with her hand – skin manly and rough yet simultaneously warm and soft with love. She caresses it with her thumb, rubbing it gently in circles with a slow rhythm. His mouth opens slightly and she can just about see his teeth, so neat and white. She can do this all day if he were to permit it. And something tells her that he would get a very visceral level of enjoyment out of this, were he to be conscious.
She leans over and places a single kiss on the flame-patterned birthmark on the left side of his forehead. If she has to pick a favorite thing about his body (aside from the obvious), it would be his mark. It's drenched in mystery, for it is a mark that so perfectly resembles a warm and compassionate flame that it seems ill-advised to chalk it up to anything other than fate. It complements the rest of his face perfectly, and it only further draws out both his inner and outer beauty. Because of this, and many more factors, Uta has always felt safe and assured whenever she has been in his company.
Pushing her luck (not that she's expecting any sort of punishment, mind you), Uta lowers herself some more so their lips are almost touching. She can now smell his breath – it serves to further her desire for him, for it has the subtlest tinge of broccoli sprouts, soup and sake, no doubt a remnant of the wonderful evening dinner they had shared together, one which Yoriichi insisted he'd cook.
Yoriichi's good at cooking, though he would be the first to admit that nothing compares to his beloved's own mastery of ingredients and recipes. She takes pride in that.
Uta closes her eyes and inches forward to steal a kiss. Their lips connect and she moans lightly as she pokes her tongue in his mouth. He tastes even better than last night. She deepens her kiss, her breasts now pressing against his chest which continues its own unconscious rhythms, and she feels her own heartbeat rise whilst she drinks in and relishes in his taste and scent. It's enough to make her giddy and excitable, like she's a younger version of what she already currently is. Admittedly though, every night where she lays with her beloved feels like one to savor and get giddy over.
To deem what is about to happen as being unfortunate is mostly incorrect, but Uta is now going to learn something new about her husband. For Yoriichi's eyes have opened and he gazes eternally into those of his wife – they are red and deep and oh-so-perfect, as if Amaterasu had carved out two sanguine gems from the heart of the sun and sent them down to the world. But not even the majesty of his eyes is enough to not startle her somewhat as she feels a tightening in her chest and she applies her surging shock with a withdrawal from his lips and a light gasp.
"Eek!" Uta yelps, retreating back to her previous position and laying on her back. Soon, she turns her neck to see her Yoriichi, now sitting upright and looking down at her with a contented smile.
"Good morning, my love," he announces as he organizes his hair so as much of it as possible directly clings behind his back, "did you sleep well?"
Uta nods, "Uh-huh. Yoriichi, darling... have you been awake this whole time? Pretending to be asleep?"
Of course, she had expected him to arise from his slumber, what with the way she had peppered his face and body with her affection. Something was bound to give. But the silent nature of his nocturnal suspension suggests an expertly hidden waking. No drowsy grumbling or stirring, no slow ascent from the depths of the dreaming. And he hid it so well.
"Perhaps." And then he smirks, but he's full of playfulness and absolutely void of malicious intent. It's these times when he shows a more childlike side of himself that seldom exists outside of the bedroom that Uta feels grateful. She likes to be kept on her toes, and it's a sign of the fundamental comfort Yoriichi has cultivated in expressing himself in an increasingly earnest nature to her. It's a trust that can't be broken, and will not be broken.
She smiles, and sits upright with him. Neither of them takes any care in covering themselves (for they have been together like this for so long now, what is the point?).
"I enjoyed last night, thank you." Uta coos, playing with her own hair teasingly.
"The pleasure's mine, my love."
And Uta's heart burns with a painful adoration that she can't safeguard herself against, as evidenced by her cheeks turning a light shade of red. She draws closer to Yoriichi, he takes her in his arms and she sits atop his lap, playing with his glorious red mane once more as they exchange more pleasantries.
"Have you considered being a professional masseuse, my love? That was excellent. It really ironed out all the stresses in my body!"
"Unfortunately, there's only one person in this world who I'd be willing to treat so. But thank you."
Some of his locks gnarl around her hand; she flicks them free and continues on another trail. Yoriichi rubs her back gently.
"Next time, though, I have to be the one who does it to you. I want you to feel good, you know? It would only be right to return the favor."
Yoriichi is silent, for a moment. "I... I would like that very much, my darling. I'm sure you would do an excellent job as well."
Uta then reminisces on times gone by, and smiles once again. "To be honest, I think last night was even better than that night back last winter. Remember? You had that burning fever, I embraced you and tended to your needs. And as if by magic, it cured you!"
"Yes, I remember that fondly as well," his arms begin to wander downwards, "my wonderful wife has the solutions to all of my problems, doesn't she?"
Uta’s cheeks redden further and she giggles. "I'm not omnipotent, Yoriichi. Nor am I perfect. But I try my best."
"You are to me."
And then Uta notices a satisfied smirk on his face as his hand has wandered to grip her bottom, firmly but gently. She smiles back at him and moves closer to her beloved, hooking her left arm around his back and using her right to caress his cheek again. She knows what this is a signal for and she's all for it.
It speaks to an unyielding want, an ever-burgeoning desire. Ever since their relationship had evolved into something beyond just hugs and kisses, the mutual desire for each other's bodies had only grown. Not a day goes by anymore where some form of physical intimacy plays out. Not necessarily anything sexual, let alone intercourse, but an evening that hadn't concluded with some sort of warm embrace would feel incomplete, even if all it were to amount to was holding each other in their sleep. And Uta is pleased with that, she couldn't imagine a scenario where they physically drifted apart. They are in love with each other's bodies as much as they were with their hearts and souls. Attuned perfectly together, it has no appropriate comparison. It is merely something beautiful.
And Uta can feel the wanton need heating up inside of her. And she knows that Yoriichi must feel this too. For she can read every facet of his emotional experience in ways other people could only guess at. That's why they're so compatible. Yoriichi doesn't need to tell her he's happy for her to know that he's happy. She just knows.
"You're not hungry, are you?" Uta asks, her tone implying that she already knows the answer but asks it anyway for formalities', or perhaps playfulness', sake.
"Ah, not at this moment. Are you... ?"
"I'm not hungry, either. So breakfast can wait a little bit, then?"
Yoriichi gives a toothy smile and nods. "That's exactly what I was thinking."
"In the meantime," Uta puts on her best seductive voice and lightly scratches his cheek with her fingernail, leaning in so her breasts press up against his chest once more, "want to continue from where we left off last night? Because something tells me that we're not quite done yet."
"Why, I'd love nothing more."
His grip on her bottom intensifies subtly as they reach in together for a deep and longing kiss. Their lips connect and they probe each other with their tongues as Uta can sense the blood has already rushed to his length and it stands upright in anticipation and excitement. After a few more luxurious moments of relishing in each other's moistness, they withdraw from the kiss and stare each other in the eyes. She lifts herself up slightly and lowers onto him, sinking down with an exuberant passion as an indescribable pleasure overcomes her loins and hips.
"My turn this time, okay?" Uta asks, but she knows Yoriichi won't mind. He's open to anything. Within reason of course.
"Take all the time you need, darling."
And then the fun and joy begin anew. Over and over.
In their own little corner of paradise.