Archive of Our Own

It was a cold day in the tail end of winter, and Sanchoumou was sweating bullets.

Normally Himetsuru wouldn’t have noticed, on account of not particularly caring about Sanchoumou’s perspiration rates — or anyone’s, for that matter — but it had been a full half-hour since Sanchoumou returned from the Tactical Enhancement Training battlegrounds and the rest of her unit had cooled down by now. Yet Sanchoumou had been sitting out on the engawa for long enough that her hair was thoroughly disheveled from the wind, and still she looked like she had just come back from the most taxing sortie of her life.

Clearly Nikkou thought so too, as she hadn’t stopped hovering around Sanchoumou since they’d gotten back. “Okashira. I truly believe nothing good will come out of trying to endure this,” she said, with newfound urgency in her tone. “Please, for the sake of the nest, ask the saniwa—”

Sanchoumou’s voice was audibly strained. “The little bird is busy enough with the training as it is. I mustn’t disturb them.”

“But… your well-being…”

After a moment’s breath Sanchoumou stood, the pair of sparrows that had perched atop her shoulders taking flight, twittering farewells. “Maybe later, when they take a break,” she conceded, though Himetsuru could hear the lie in her voice. Besides, no matter how convincing she sounded, Himetsuru knew her: she was the same Sanchoumou who hid injuries beneath her coat to let the tantous in the repair room first. Most likely the saniwa wouldn’t hear a thing about whatever was going on with her. “I’ll get some rest in our room, if that will reassure you.”

Nikkou’s frown only deepened. Himetsuru was always telling her she’d develop permanent wrinkles no saniwa could hope to repair if she kept scowling like that. “But…” Here she lowered her voice, and Himetsuru had to strain to hear her. “Are you sure? If this goes on…”

Sanchoumou patted Nikkou’s arm. “If this goes on, you are at liberty to inform the little bird of my condition. But allow me an hour, at least.”

“…As you will.”

Himetsuru waited for Sanchoumou to finish hobbling off towards the rooms before pushing the sliding door open. “What’s up with her this time?”

Nikkou jolted, dropped the bundle of damp towels in her arms, slipped on one, and caught herself on the door before she would have fallen. This meant the door would probably never slide closed properly again, by virtue of the crushed and splintered wood under Nikkou’s grip, but as Himetsuru would later tell an incensed Hasebe, this was surely preferable to a Nikkou-shaped crater in the engawa. “Hime!”

“Will you ever stop calling me that?”

“How much did you—” Nikkou coughed, cleared her throat, began gathering the towels up and folding them once more as if this would hide the trembling in her hands. “Ahem. How long have you been there? Before that, what are you even doing there? Are you not assigned to any units today?”

Himetsuru yawned. “Got the day off. Well? What’s with her?”

Nikkou kept her gaze fixed on the towels. “With who?”

“Good grief. Who do you think, Gocchin? Seriously, what’s with Sanchoumou?” She rarely spoke that name aloud, but she had zero qualms using it if Nikkou was going to be deliberately difficult.

Nikkou’s usually-composed expression splintered like her wooden victim. “I… do not know what you mean. Okashira is perfectly well.”

“Riiight. And you’re being perfectly convincing.” Himetsuru stretched, crawled out from under the kotatsu, and stood up to stretch some more. Lazing about in a warm room while everyone else worked themselves to the bone in this freezing cold was all well and good, but she was still a sword, and if she didn’t get moving soon she’d start rusting. “Fine, then. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go find out.”

As expected, Nikkou dropped the towels again and lunged for Himetsuru. She probably would have caught her in that death grip of hers too, and broken her spine while she was at it, if Himetsuru hadn’t anticipated as much and danced out of the way, though unfortunately Nikkou’s hand snagged on the edge of her tracksuit instead. “Wait — wait, Hime,” Nikkou gasped, this time sounding so truly alarmed that it gave Himetsuru guilty pause. “Y… You shouldn’t. You mustn’t. Please.”

“Oh, geez. If you grovel like that, I’ll start getting used to it.” Himetsuru turned and swatted Nikkou’s hand away. “You can just tell me, you know. If she’s down with a fever or something, I’d love an excuse to go on an expedition into the present time and grab some medication.” She could bring Kenshin and Gokotai too, and then they’d buy some crepes on the way home.

Nikkou pinched the bridge of her nose. “It is… not so simple, I’m afraid. It was… an… unforeseen… side-effect. During training.”

Himetsuru stared at her. “Training. You mean the ‘chiyoko’ thing going on right now?”

“Yes. Okashira was grazed by an arrow from the enemy troops. Our opponents were only simulations, so there should not have been any lasting effects, but…” Nikkou looked pained. “Apparently there was a mistake in the coding, whatever that meant. So she has been exhibiting… certain… symptoms. The Government staff informed us it was nothing serious and should pass.”

“…But?” Himetsuru prompted.

“…But her condition has yet to improve,” Nikkou muttered. “I’ve suggested consulting the saniwa for advice, but she is adamant on enduring this on her own. Now that you know,” she said, voice rising to a familiar grating volume, “please, for her sake, do not interfere. She has instructed me to allow her an hour before I—”

“Okaaay, okay, okay.” Himetsuru crossed her arms, tilting her head in thought. Certain symptoms. All she’d really noticed at a glance before she ducked into the room was that Sanchoumou appeared to be sweating more than usual, which was why she’d assumed she’d caught the flu or something. But if this was a mistake in the simulation coding…

The last time there’d been a glitch in the system, it had nearly led to swords breaking. The Government had been generous with their compensation and apologies, but Himetsuru was pretty sure it would’ve been nicer to have never had that scare at all.

“Hime.” Nikkou looked imploringly down at her. “Promise me you won’t speak with her. Or go in our room. Or — Or get anywhere near her at all, actually. It might be preferable if you stay on the other side of the citadel for the time being.”

Himetsuru rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like I’m the contagious one here. Fine, I won’t do anything. Happy now?”

“…Not very.”

“You don’t trust me. So hurtful. I could just shatter.” Himetsuru turned on her heel and made her way down the engawa. “Go use the kotatsu if you like. It’s not mine anyway.”

“Er, then whose — I mean, where are you—”

“Gonna get crepes with the kids. Go away!”

Sanchoumou and Nikkou’s room was just beside Himetsuru and Goke’s, so it seemed pretty ridiculous of Nikkou to request Himetsuru not go anywhere near her own room. It was a good thing she hadn’t planned on actually doing that from the start.

Himetsuru peered over her shoulder as she plodded down the corridor, but it was as empty as she’d expected: this ‘chiyoko’ training thing was keeping most everyone who wasn’t either out on expedition or assigned to internal affairs busy, leaving the rooms deserted at this time of the day. Even the saniwa had been too preoccupied giving orders through Konnosuke and various terminals to notice Himetsuru poking her head in their room.

A soft, barely audible sound broke the silence of the corridor. Himetsuru paused, moved forward to make sure she hadn’t just heard herself, and concluded her steps were as soundless as ever. But when she pressed close against the sliding door of Sanchoumou and Nikkou’s room, she heard it again: fast, shallow breathing, almost like panting, and the rustle of fabric.

Her first, instinctive, and maybe slightly irrational thought was that Sanchoumou was having a nightmare. In Himetsuru’s defense, she had been woken up one too many nights thanks to someone’s nightmare drawing her subconscious in, and a few times she’d had to play therapist to someone within their dreams. If Sanchoumou was having chiyoko-induced nightmares, then it was something Himetsuru was well within her right and capability to help with, Nikkou’s groveling be damned. She pulled the door open.

And was treated to the sight of Sanchoumou sitting up in her futon, face flushed, tattoos glowing a faint red, hand wrapped around her erect cock.

For a moment Himetsuru could only stand there, wondering if she was dreaming, or hallucinating, or having an out-of-body experience. Any one of those would have been far easier to deal with than the reality of having walked in on Sanchoumou jerking off.

Sanchoumou blinked, eyes bleary and clouded over — then startled. “What — Hime?”

Himetsuru threw the door shut. She heard the wood crack and snap as it bounced off the other side of the screen, giving her another half-second glance of Sanchoumou’s shocked wide eyes, before Himetsuru grabbed the door and slammed it closed. This time she saw a chunk of wood break off and topple onto the floor.

She was acting like Nikkou. Under literally any other circumstances, she might have been horrified enough to regain her senses. Unfortunately, her heart was beating too hard, too fast, and too close to her throat for her to pull herself together.

In all honesty, it wasn’t like she’d never thought about it before. Sometimes a girl got lonely, and sometimes it just so happened to be past midnight, the showers empty but for her, fresh from a late-night sortie where Sanchoumou had helped wrap bandages around her thigh to staunch a bleeding wound before repairs could get her sorted out. Sometimes Himetsuru couldn’t help wanting more than just the brush of Sanchoumou’s fingers against her bare skin, and sometimes Himetsuru was fairly sure that, if Sanchoumou made any move whatsoever — because she had seen the way Sanchoumou looked at her, the desperate burning fire in those eyes so obvious it was painful — Himetsuru wouldn’t push her away.

But she never did. Always she backed away, murmuring some half-hearted apology or a half-witted attempt at pointless conversation, and always Himetsuru was left irrationally irritated that this sword, this frightening imposing Ichimonji clan head who could do anything she wanted and have anyone she wanted, was just too damn shy.

And now Himetsuru was realizing this extended to asking for help with unforeseen side-effects.

Mind made up, Himetsuru shoved the door open again, banging it against its frame. Sanchoumou had gone from sitting upright in her futon to curled up in a pathetic ball under a blanket.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Himetsuru said, which in retrospect wasn’t the most seductive thing she could’ve come up with then.

No response but for the ball curling up tighter.

Himetsuru sighed, stepping in the room and pushing the door shut behind her. It would’ve been nice to have modern doors with modern locks, but no one else was around anyway, and if Nikkou decided to drop by and see how her precious okashira was doing then Himetsuru would gladly leave them to it. Right now, though, she nudged the blanket-ball on the futon with enough force to send a weaker sword rolling through the walls. “Oi, oi. You think hiding like this will just make me forget that? Huh?”

Sanchoumou’s muffled, miserable response was barely audible. “Himetsuru… Please…”

Full name again. Himetsuru scratched her chin. “Please what? I’m offering my help here.”

“This… This really is nothing to concern yourself with. I—”

“Nikkou-kun told me you’re having unforeseen side-effects. But don’t blame her too much for blabbing. Anyone with eyes would’ve noticed sooner or later.” Himetsuru gave up on trying to kick the immovable rock and dropped down to sit on the foot of the futon instead. “At first I thought you caught the flu or something, with how you were sweating buckets, but I guess this is what she meant instead. You tellin’ me those Government troops hit you with Cupid’s aphrodisiac arrow?”

A brief pause, and then Sanchoumou lifted the blanket just enough to peer out and up at her. “How… did you know?”

“Guessed.” More specifically, Himetsuru had caught glimpses of the combat simulations on the saniwa’s screens, then recalled a thing or two she’d read about this human holiday called ‘Valentine’s,’ where it was apparently common practice to engage in lovemaking. Or something. Pair that with the buckets of sweat, the flushed cheeks, and the way Sanchoumou probably wouldn’t normally have been stupid nor desperate enough to rub one out in a room without a lock, and Himetsuru had her answer. “Did I get it right?”

Sanchoumou retreated back under the blanket, but thankfully after a bit of wriggling and shuffling — Himetsuru could only assume she was trying to make herself presentable down there — Sanchoumou surfaced once more, though she kept the blanket over her lap as she ran a hand down her still-red face. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“What exactly happened?”

“It’s as you say. During training, one of the simulated enemies’ troops grazed me with an arrow, and though I took little notice of it during combat, I… afterwards…” Sanchoumou sighed, head dropping into her palm in some mix of shame and embarrassment. “It felt… feels as though my body is aflame. The Government worker on-site looked into the coding and explained as much. They also said the sensation should pass soon, but…”

“But it’s been almost an hour now,” Himetsuru said, frowning. “And you don’t look any less ‘aflame’ to me.”

“Please stop.”

“Just sayin’. So? Why didn’t you just ask the saniwa for help? They could probably do some spiritual-energy bullshit and fix you right up.”

Sanchoumou shook her head. “They are busy enough as is with the training. I won’t disturb them over something so small, and—”

“Small?” Himetsuru scoffed. “Nothing small about what I just saw.”

“Please stop,” Sanchoumou repeated, weakly. “And… for me to be afflicted with something as absurd as this, I…”

She trailed off again, but Himetsuru could more or less guess what she meant. “Big strong Okashira doesn’t wanna look weak in front of the little bird,” she said, taking just a little bit of pleasure in how Sanchoumou somehow managed to get even redder. Himetsuru never seriously called her by that title, and yet she’d come to notice how even saying it teasingly, ironically, and even disdainfully had Sanchoumou’s ears going a faint pink. “Relax. It’s not like the saniwa’s gonna tell the whole citadel and Norimune sees this as a chance to reclaim her position, or for Nan-kun to stage a coup. Though they’ll remember it forever, that’s for sure.”

Sanchoumou pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Anyway. That’s what I’m here for.”

There was a long pause as the gears in Sanchoumou’s aflame head presumably did their best to turn. Then her jaw dropped. “E—Excuse me?”

“What, are you really just going to jack off for as long as it takes to get it out of your system?” Himetsuru asked. “Sounds worse than just getting some help and getting it over with to me. And more pathetic.”

Sanchoumou winced. “You never mince your words.”

“And you never use yours.” Himetsuru yanked the blanket away, faster than Sanchoumou could make a grab for it, and regarded the situation between them. “Alright. What do you want? Hand, mouth, ass—”

“Himetsuru,” Sanchoumou protested — pleaded, almost, and the uncharacteristic desperation in her tone was too pitiful to ignore. “I — I appreciate your… your offer, but I can’t possibly…”

“Do you think I don’t want to?” Himetsuru planted her hands on either side of Sanchoumou, shifted in close until Sanchoumou’s gaze had no room to dart to and fro. “I came here in the first place because I figured you were bein’ too difficult to ask for help and Nikkou-kun’s too much of an obedient puppy to disobey you. Just let me do this—” She grabbed Sanchoumou by the back of her neck before she could turn away, and was rewarded with a truly fascinating sound, a mix between a gasp and a whimper, and the burning heat of Sanchoumou’s bare skin against her fingers. “And you can go back to being the indomitable Ichimonji clan head. Hm?”

She expected Sanchoumou to demur again, and braced herself just in case she tried fleeing the premises, but for a long few seconds there was only silence, her own heavy breathing, Sanchoumou frozen stiff beneath her. They were close enough that Himetsuru could see the sweat on her brow, could feel the warmth emanating from her body. It really was like she was running a temperature, only it couldn’t be so easily cooled down with some bedrest and warm soup.

“…I won’t… touch.”

Himetsuru blinked. “Ah?”

“I won’t touch.” Sanchoumou was staring somewhere around Himetsuru’s chin in some attempt to avoid looking directly at her. “If… If you insist, then… looking… will be enough.”

Himetsuru blinked again, though she was no less confused than the first time around. “Looking?”

Sanchoumou gestured for her to back up, and after a moment’s consideration — it didn’t seem like she was about to run away — Himetsuru did so, watching as Sanchoumou took a deep breath, exhaled, and tugged her pants down.

It was almost impressive how her clit sprang out, and the sight of Sanchoumou’s hand wrapping around it, the tattoos from the back of her palm up to her biceps flaring to bright red life, was just on this side of intoxicating — so much so that it took Himetsuru a moment to realize Sanchoumou had already started stroking herself, hesitantly at first but rapidly picking up speed. “Hey,” Himetsuru managed, her mouth painfully dry, “I said I was—”

“Just let me see you,” Sanchoumou bit out, voice tight and low, almost as distracting as the intense gaze now fixed on Himetsuru’s face. “That—That’s enough.”

Even then it still took Himetsuru another second to realize what she meant: she was quite literally just looking at Himetsuru, gaze roving up and down her body, from her face to her shoulders to her legs, folded beneath her, then back up to her face — and all the while Sanchoumou’s hand kept moving, palm and length alike already growing wet from her own slick, her lips parted for labored breath, a new layer of sweat gathering along her brow.

Himetsuru wondered if she was just having one very long heart attack. She hadn’t thought swords could even have heart attacks, but Goke was regularly having allergic reactions every time Gokotai’s tiger or Shishiou’s nue had been anywhere within 30 feet of him, so maybe it was plausible and maybe it was happening right now, and she was having erotic hallucinations together with it.

After a minute or a year Himetsuru found her voice. “This can’t possibly be enough.”

Sanchoumou rubbed the head of her cock, her gaze locked somewhere around Himetsuru’s neck; her response was a barely audible murmur. “You’d think, right?”

There was a new undercurrent to her voice, the low, barely-restrained growl of some starving beast. Chills raced down Himetsuru’s spine. “You…”

On one hand, Himetsuru was just a little bit pleased to have her suspicions — well, more like assumptions — proven correct; on the other hand, this staring was far from the same level as the fleeting glances Sanchoumou shot her when she thought Himetsuru wasn’t paying attention. There was desire written all over her face, her earlier embarrassment nearly completely gone, as if she was now too desperate to even be shy, and the intensity of her gaze made it feel like she was undressing Himetsuru in her mind’s eye — the thought of which really, really shouldn’t be stirring the heat in the pit of Himetsuru’s stomach right now.

That gave her an idea, though. “Fine — here, then,” she said, shrugging her tracksuit off and nearly laughing at how Sanchoumou’s eyes flew to her shoulders — then bulged as she yanked her pants down too, revealing bare thighs and legs, and left just her black innerwear on. “Some more to look at.”

She had never particularly thought about the clothes she wore for chores and internal affairs, but now she wondered if she had been inadvertently teasing Sanchoumou this whole time, based on the small groan that left her gritted teeth and the way her hand sped up in its movements. She hunched forward just slightly, whether to look closer or just from arousal, and in response Himetsuru moved in closer, too, crawling in between Sanchoumou’s spread legs; like this she was close enough to see the shine of slick along her cock, the muscles bulging in her moving arm, the bob of her throat as she tried and failed to speak.

“Do you like looking at me that much?” Himetsuru asked. Their thighs were so, so close — she could feel the heat from Sanchoumou’s skin against hers. “Am I what you think of when you’re all alone?” She paused, smiled, placed a hand atop Sanchoumou’s knee. “Were you thinking of me just now, before I walked in?”

And there it was, in a soft stifled whimper: “Hime…”

Himetsuru’s heart started doing handstands up and down her windpipe. How she hated that name; how she longed to hear it said like that, so sweet and so needy. “Say it.”

Sanchoumou screwed her eyes shut for just a moment before opening them again, as if afraid Himetsuru might disappear if she stopped looking at her. Fortunately Himetsuru had no such plans, not when she had such a fascinating sight before her. “I… Yes,” Sanchoumou breathed, looking up at Himetsuru — usually those vivid red eyes looked down at her, so the reverse, however minuscule the difference, sent a frisson of excitement through Himetsuru’s chest. “I was thinking of you. I… always do…”

Himetsuru patted her knee, bracing herself against the futon with her other arm as she leaned over the other sword, casting her in shadow. “And what do you think about?”

“Ngh… I…” Sanchoumou’s hand had gone still, as if too distracted to even touch herself, and Himetsuru tried not to stare too obviously at the white beading at the tip of her cock. “I-I don’t know. Anything. Everything. Whatever I can.” She resumed moving, slower, her gaze never moving from Himetsuru’s throat. “I suppose… I’d like… to touch you…”

It was hard to stay alluring and seductive when Sanchoumou was saying the most ridiculous things. “And yet you’re not doing much touching, are you?” Himetsuru scoffed, releasing her knee to flick her forehead. This much was enough to push her flat on her back, and Himetsuru took the chance to straddle her once more, trapping the wide-eyed Sanchoumou beneath her. “I knew looking couldn’t actually be—”

“And hold you,” Sanchoumou cut in, “and k… kiss you. And hear you say… my name…”

She was moving faster again, trailing off, focusing instead on catching her breath — but as lovely as the sight of Sanchoumou losing her cool was, Himetsuru wasn’t about to just let her get off easy like this, literally and metaphorically speaking. She clamped a hand around Sanchoumou’s wrist and pulled it away from herself, savored the pained whine that got her. “Not good enough,” she scolded. “I want more detail. How about earlier? What were you thinking right before I opened the door? What exactly was I doing — or what, exactly,” she amended, lowering her voice, “were you doing to me?”

Her hand was so close to Sanchoumou’s cock that she thought she could feel the throbbing heat of it, right next to her palm, and it took every modicum of strength in her not to just jerk her off right there, pin her down to the futon, feel her struggle, listen to her cry before she came. Sanchoumou’s eyes were wider than Himetsuru had ever seen them before, red as fresh blood, matching the shade her tattoos had gone. “H-Hime, I—”

“My hand? My mouth?” Himetsuru suggested, drawing close enough to speak nearly against Sanchoumou’s face. “Or…”

She nudged Sanchoumou’s wrist back to her cock, curled her fingers over hers as if guiding her to wrap her back around herself once more; with their hands overlapping like this Himetsuru could feel Sanchoumou jerk in her grip. “So desperate. So adorable,” she murmured. “But if I don’t get an answer, you don’t get anythin’.”

Sanchoumou had tipped her head back against the pillow, pitiful little gasps escaping her parted lips. “I… I said… looking,” she managed, hand beginning to move once more, “is enough…”

Was being deliberately difficult one of her fetishes or what? Himetsuru had half a mind to grab her wrist again and edge her until she broke and begged for it, but then she realized Sanchoumou had picked up the pace once more, nearly dislodging Himetsuru’s hand over hers, and smiled instead. “Sanchoumou,” she whispered, and savored the low moan that got her, the slick that dripped out and down her fingers. “Is that what you want? To hear me say your name?”

“Nn… Ngh…”

“Of course that can’t be it. You want more. But what kind of ‘more?’” Himetsuru wondered, leaning closer still, speaking almost directly against Sanchoumou’s mouth. “Like… Sanchoumou, your clit’s so cute like this?” She adjusted her legs, swept the front fold of her innerwear aside — “Sanchoumou, you’re bein’ such a good girl?” — braced herself on the futon with her free elbow, and bit back a gasp of her own as their bare thighs brushed against one another’s — “Or: Chomo, fuck me harder?”

Her only warning was the shudder that shot through Sanchoumou’s body, so intense she felt it like the quiver before an earthquake — and then with a choked whimper Sanchoumou was coming, warm sticky cum splattering all over Himetsuru’s inner thighs.

For a moment there was silence but for Sanchoumou’s labored panting. Then Himetsuru said, “Have you been celibate for a month or what? This is a mess.”

Sanchoumou buried her face in her clean hand. “Hime…tsuru…”

“And how are you still hard?”

She made a muffled sound into her palm. “Himetsuru…”

“I didn’t think you’d actually come just from looking.” Himetsuru lifted the hem of her innerwear up, but there was no point in checking; she could feel it had been stained inside as well, despite how she’d tried to push it out of the way. Well, she hadn’t actually thought her clothes would escape this room unscathed. “And listening, I guess. Wow… either that aphrodisiac’s stronger than I thought, or you are repressed. Or, y’know, both.”

“I would appreciate the end of the verbal abuse now,” Sanchoumou sighed.

“How’s this abuse? I’m just telling the truth. And — look here, you coward.” Himetsuru flapped her handful of fabric around until Sanchoumou reluctantly lowered her hand — and almost immediately flushed pink to the roots of her hair at the sight of Himetsuru’s thighs. “What a mess you’ve made. I ought to make you clean this up. With your tongue.”

She felt more than saw Sanchoumou twitch against her. “I — If I must—”

“As if. Go on, look your fill.” Himetsuru let the hem of her innerwear drop to the side, then ran her hand across the cum on her thighs, rubbed it between her fingers, and — bit back a satisfied little smile at how Sanchoumou’s breath hitched — let it drip slowly, viscously down onto her own stiff cock. “But not for too long,” she murmured, reaching beneath herself to rub the remaining cum around her cunt. “’Cause for me, looking’s not enough.”

Sanchoumou’s hand shot out to grab one of her thighs, which was probably the first remotely okashira-like thing she had done throughout the past several minutes. Even then she loosened her grip after a second, leaving just the brief phantom pain of her fingers digging into Himetsuru’s flesh. “Himetsuru,” she said, voice low and husky and trembling as she sat up, “I can’t… ask you to do this.”

Himetsuru scowled. “I didn’t hear you ask. I didn’t hear you say much of anything.”

“I mean—” Sanchoumou shut her mouth for a long second, clearly weighing her words before she spoke again. “If you are… only doing this because you feel you must, or anything like that, please — I can’t… I don’t… want that.” But she didn’t protest when Himetsuru shifted to better sit on her lap, didn’t turn away when Himetsuru draped her arms atop her shoulders. “To force you into something like this for my sake — is the last thing I want, and… and, ngh…”

Himetsuru waited another second, then asked, “You done?”

Sanchoumou closed her eyes as if praying to a higher being than the tsukumogami she was for strength and patience. “Well, no. But you are making it hard to remember the rest of my words.”

“Good, it’s working.” Himetsuru rolled her hips down again and was rewarded with another badly-stifled noise. “Listen here. You know me. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. That hasn’t changed in the past ten-ish minutes, and it isn’t going to change in the next. Now will you stop playing the victim and fuck me already? Here I thought stripping naked and sitting on your lap would be invitation enough.” She glanced down at her innerwear. “Almost naked,” she amended. “But I was bettin’ you’d like this look anyway.”

Sanchoumou had grown increasingly redder in the face until her cheeks finally reached an alarming shade of crimson. “You do know,” she managed, at length, “I am technically a victim here. Of the simulation.”

Himetsuru had half a mind to actually just get up and leave and see how this idiot liked it, but then she felt the hand on her thigh move up to grip her waist instead, and decided there might be hope for this situation yet. “Whatever you say,” she muttered, watching as Sanchoumou twisted slightly to reach the bottle of lube on the nightstand. “Yeah, speakin’ of that. What kinda aphrodisiac keeps you hard even after coming? Why even have that kinda error in the coding? Are they stupid?”

Sanchoumou poured a liberal amount of lube in her palm and reached beneath Himetsuru. “I have a theory.”

“You do?”

“It was probably to enhance combat performance.” Sanchoumou hesitated for a long moment before visibly steeling her resolve — and Himetsuru was not proud of the shaky exhale she let out at the feeling of those long thick fingers circling her hole, rubbing and massaging before easing a digit inside. “Similar to those, mm, stimulating concoctions they manufactured a few years back, but this time applied by the simulation enemies to streamline the application process…”

“Yeah, this ain’t really your best dirty talk,” Himetsuru said, before Sanchoumou could actually start thinking about the logistics of this mess. “Could we get to the part where you call me a slut or something?”

Sanchoumou startled, finger digging deeper into Himetsuru, and it took everything in her not to just start fucking herself on her hand right then and there. “Ahem. I’m not going to do that.”

Himetsuru rolled her eyes. “Just a suggestion. I figured you’d react like that.” She didn’t think she’d be able to take Sanchoumou seriously if she tried anyway. “I figured you’d wanna just watch this, too,” she added, arching her back when Sanchoumou added another finger, trying and probably failing to keep her breathing steady — “not… do it yourself…”

Sanchoumou swallowed. “I, ah… The idea has some appeal. But—” Without warning she spread her fingers, and this time Himetsuru couldn’t help the low moan that escaped her, digging her nails into Sanchoumou’s back. “This,” Sanchoumou murmured, leaning in, “is nice to watch, too.”

“…Fucker…”

“Himetsuru is just too beautiful.” Another moment’s hesitation — then she was kissing Himetsuru’s throat, just below her jaw, warm lips moving against her skin: “Even in your real body I could admire you for hours. But now, in these human forms, I…” Her grip tightened on Himetsuru’s waist. “I’m not limited… to just admiring.”

Of course Sanchoumou was hopeless with dirty talk: she was far too sappy. Himetsuru had to do everything around here. “But you still wanna see more, don’t you?” she managed, between labored breaths; she kept one arm around Sanchoumou’s neck and reached for the zipper of her innerwear with the other, couldn’t help a small wicked smirk at how Sanchoumou went rigid.

She got to tug the zipper down as far as her sternum before Sanchoumou grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard for just one delicious second before relaxing again. “Wait,” Sanchoumou breathed, staring up at her for a long few moments before leaning in, kissing her throat again, lower now that she had better access. “Just like this… It’s enough.”

It wasn’t even far enough down for a cleavage line. If Himetsuru were a purer, more innocent sword, she’d probably think Sanchoumou was being shy, but — “You lewd, dirty, perverted okashira,” she said, letting just the slightest hint of mocking creep into her voice. It was enough to turn Sanchoumou’s ears bright pink. “You just can’t get enough of clothed sex, can you. I’m tellin’ everyone else about how much of a—” Himetsuru searched her head for more synonyms and could only remember something Nikkou had angrily muttered once. “Lecher you are. What, you wanna come on the Ichimonji uniform while you’re at it?”

“Um—”

“Bet you’d love doing it after a sortie, or sparring.” Himetsuru rolled her hips down, took Sanchoumou’s fingers deeper in herself since this idiot had stopped moving from what was presumably sheer arousal. “Or during one?” Himetsuru wondered aloud, and almost laughed at how Sanchoumou’s eyes went comically wide. “During an expedition? When we’re takin’ a break, gathering water or firewood or what-the-hell-ever—”

“H-Hime—”

“—and you get me alone,” Himetsuru went on, reaching down, down, toying with the slick beading at the tip of Sanchoumou’s rock-hard clit, “and no one’s around to see you, hmm, maybe — use my mouth?” She curled her thumb and forefinger around Sanchoumou, smiled at the almost guttural growl that got her. “Yeah. You’ve got so many choices there. Could make me swallow—” One long slow stroke, gauging her girth — Sanchoumou was holding her waist hard enough to hurt — “could come on my face — but I know you.” Himetsuru pulled her fingers off Sanchoumou, felt her mouth go dry at how her cock bounced from the movement. “You’ve already seen it on my thighs. Chomo’s cum would look good over my tits too, don’t you think?”

Sanchoumou pulled her fingers out of Himetsuru, and didn’t even give her time to be annoyed with this interruption before she was taking her cock in hand, guiding the tip to Himetsuru’s entrance. “Can I — Are you still alright?”

Himetsuru blinked. “What?”

Sanchoumou’s voice was lower than Himetsuru had ever heard it go before, sounding some hilarious mix of pained and ecstatic. “Still… alright… with this?”

The question was so absurd it took Himetsuru another second to respond. “Didn’t I just lay out an elaborate fantasy for you? What do you think? Forget it. I should just put you out of your misery.” She reached down and held her own hole open as she lowered herself onto Sanchoumou’s cock, hissed through her teeth at the mild burn — even when just by herself, she usually reached three fingers before going for a dildo —

But it was nothing compared to how Sanchoumou had to clap a hand over her mouth, and even then her long breathless moan was probably audible down to the other end of the hallway.

This time Himetsuru didn’t bother stifling her bark of laughter. “What? Is it that good?” She eased herself the rest of the way down, gasping at the stretch — huge, she was huge — and had to wrap her arms back around Sanchoumou’s sweat-soaked neck for balance once she bottomed out. She was nearly panting for air already, and they hadn’t even done anything — but this at least put her in a perfect position to rest her chin on Sanchoumou’s shoulder and whisper in her ear, “How… How’s it feel inside me? Okashira?”

The hand on her waist had tightened into a truly crushing grip now. “Hime—” Sanchoumou sounded like she was just barely keeping it together through sheer force of will. “Good,” she said, and it took a second for Himetsuru to even remember what she was replying to. “So good, Hime, you feel — amazing—”

“I better,” Himetsuru mumbled, “after all this work.” She caught her breath, braced herself, then pulled up from Sanchoumou to leave just the head inside — then sank back down again, and had to bite down on her tongue to muffle what would have been an undignified sound as Sanchoumou clung to her, gasping her name, hips jerking as if trying to hold herself back from thrusting up. Here Himetsuru thought she could handle it, but goddamn — “C’mon, don’t just sit there,” she hissed, moving faster until she was fucking herself on Sanchoumou’s cock — “isn’t that stupid aphro supposed to be driving you crazy?”

“I—” Sanchoumou buried her face in Himetsuru’s neck, bit down hard for once, the flash of pain as intoxicating as the first strong shot of liquor. “D-Don’t want — to hurt—”

Himetsuru grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Finish that sentence and I’ll hurt you.”

To her consternation Sanchoumou only huffed a laugh under her breath, one of her hands climbing up from Himetsuru’s waist to — she startled — the side of her chest, just under her arm. “Fine, then, I — don’t want to rush. You… ah… don’t move, first, please,” she said, and her other hand clamped down on Himetsuru’s thigh with what felt like enough force to crush a History Retrograding tantou’s skull. “Hime… Do you like it here?”

Himetsuru could feel the entire length of Sanchoumou’s cock throbbing inside her, the weight of her resting against a spot that had her seeing stars. “Nn? Where… ah?!”

Sanchoumou had slipped her hand beneath Himetsuru’s innerwear through the sleeve, and when her fingers teased a nipple Himetsuru hunched over, panting and trembling, electric pleasure racing all through her body — Sanchoumou’s other hand released her thigh, crept up Himetsuru’s chest to rub a stiff nipple over the fabric, and she didn’t even try suppressing the pathetic whimper that left her. “W-Wait, Cho—Sanchoumou, not… there…”

She actually paused, giving Himetsuru a second to catch her breath and also remember her name, but after a second she went right back to pinching and twisting and essentially driving all coherent thought out of Himetsuru’s head. “Are you sure?” Sanchoumou whispered, and damn did Himetsuru hate how she’d gotten the upper hand now — “It looks like you like it. Don’t you?”

“N-Nn — hngh—” Himetsuru renewed her grip around Sanchoumou’s back, then rolled her hips down — but she barely heard Sanchoumou over her own choked moan, felt the heat in her stomach flaring to hungry life. Thus far she’d been trying to tamp it down, mostly because it had been imperative she rile Sanchoumou up enough to push past her earlier hesitation, but now —

She shivered at Sanchoumou’s lips moving down her throat, pausing between her clavicles, warm breath ghosting against her skin; as if this wasn’t bad enough one of her hands came down to wrap around Himetsuru, thumbing at the slick that had been dripping steadily down, smiling almost warmly at how Himetsuru jolted in her grip. “You haven’t come yet, either.”

“I…” Himetsuru bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. Sanchoumou was stroking, so slowly, spreading her slick up and down her length as if in place of lube, while her other hand went on teasing a nipple between her fingers. If this went on any longer Himetsuru had a feeling she was going to find out if swords could get damaged from too much of a good thing. “You’re… the victim here… aren’t you?”

“How compassionate.” Sanchoumou nuzzled her neck, like some big needy dog, before abruptly thrusting up.

“Ah — S-Sanchou—”

“I want to see it,” Sanchoumou said, almost imploring, as she bent her head and pressed a kiss to Himetsuru’s nipple over her clothes — she could just barely feel the warmth of her mouth through the fabric, and the brief thought of Sanchoumou sucking on her tits had Himetsuru burying her face in Sanchoumou’s shoulder, trying and mostly failing to muffle the sounds she was making. “If I could see you come, Hime…”

She let one hand drop back to clutch Himetsuru’s waist, guiding her back down onto her cock, over and over, the effortless strength in her arm almost as intoxicating as the way she grinded up against the spot that had Himetsuru crying out — and all the while her other hand worked Himetsuru’s clit, rubbing her thumb around the head, tightening her grip and letting the momentum of her thrusts push Himetsuru forward to fuck her hand. At the back of her head Himetsuru tried to rein herself in, wanted to take control again, but — “More — harder,” she moaned instead, locking her legs around Sanchoumou’s back, “don’t stop, Chomo—”

But damn if she didn’t want this just as bad, Sanchoumou squeezing her waist and kissing her chest, jerking her off and fucking her at once, tipping her sweat-lined face up to mouth at her collarbones. “Beautiful,” she breathed, such gentle words at complete odds with the wet slide of her cock in Himetsuru’s cunt; “so gorgeous, Hime — let me see you come for me, please.”

Himetsuru truly wished she wasn’t so easy. Maybe under other circumstances she could have held out longer, but right now she could only let the near-overwhelming wave of heat wash over her as she spilled all over Sanchoumou’s palm.

The next few seconds passed in a daze as Himetsuru caught her breath, came down from the sort of high she usually only felt in the thick of combat. For a while she closed her eyes, relaxed, inhaled and exhaled — but not for too long, because she had to make a grab for Sanchoumou’s wrist before she would have reached for a nearby box of tissues. “You stop right there.”

Sanchoumou stiffened. “I was only—”

“Nope. I made a mess. I should clean it. Right?” Himetsuru yanked at her arm until Sanchoumou gave up on resisting — wisely so, as any stronger and Himetsuru was prepared to yank it all the way out of its socket. She wrinkled her nose down at Sanchoumou’s palm — this was even more of a mess than she thought — but kept her grip firm as she bent her head to lick up her own cum.

Sanchoumou made a sound like she’d been shot. “Hime—tsuru…”

“Did you like the view?” Himetsuru murmured, dragging her tongue down Sanchoumou’s hand, from the tip of her middle finger to the base of her palm. “D’you like watching me from this angle? Hey, now that you’ve seen me from the front—” She turned Sanchoumou’s palm over and licked where cum had dripped between her fingers, tongue darting out across bright red tattoos. “Maybe you wanna see me from the back too. Huh?”

While Sanchoumou was presumably busy trying not to shoot ropes in Himetsuru right there, Himetsuru took two of her digits in her mouth and sucked, tongue pressed to the pads of her fingers. This much was already enough to have interest stirring in Himetsuru’s stomach again, and not for the first time she was glad she wasn’t some poor pathetic human who had need for something as useless as a refractory period.

“I — Hime,” Sanchoumou bit out, “please, could I…”

Himetsuru reluctantly pulled back from her fingers. “What?” she asked, expecting — and hoping — Sanchoumou would beg her for a blowjob or something. She could only imagine how it would feel to take that hot heavy weight in her mouth, how she’d sink down as far as she could go until the tip hit the back of her throat — how she’d suck hard for a moment, then pull back up to swirl her tongue around the head, lap up the sweet slick that dribbled out — and all the while Sanchoumou would be gripping and tugging at her hair, pushing her further down her cock, maybe whisper sweet praises or dirty names or even just make more of those low lovely moans of hers, along with the occasional pleading Hime—

“Could I—” Sanchoumou licked her lips, looked away, looked up — “Kiss you?”

“…What?” Himetsuru repeated, hoping — but not expecting — that she’d heard wrong.

Sanchoumou leaned in close but stopped short of her face, her clean hand coming up to caress Himetsuru’s cheek. “The view from the back… would also be nice,” she said, and she didn’t even sound as shy as Himetsuru thought she would, just disgustingly fond; “but then I can’t see your face.”

Himetsuru thought she might expire from secondhand embarrassment. Unfortunately she stayed conscious; doubly unfortunately, she was too turned on to shove Sanchoumou away and walk out of the room. “How did you ever become clan head like this?” Himetsuru wondered aloud, even as she tucked her hair behind her ears to keep it out of the way. “I thought you’re supposed to be the type who just has her way with whoever she likes?”

“Is that what you want?” Sanchoumou maneuvered her to lie back on the (now doubtless thoroughly ruined) futon — even this had Himetsuru biting her tongue to stifle herself again, moreso when the movement only pushed Sanchoumou deeper in her. “I can do that. If you like.”

“Oh, sure you can. Just like how you can call me a dirty whore who—”

“Maybe not that far,” Sanchoumou cut in, cheeks glowing pink, “but—” She thrust forward, once, hard and fast, and Himetsuru threw an arm over her face to muffle a gasp. A moment later Sanchoumou was grabbing her arm and pinning it to the futon, the strength in her grip sending shivers racing down Himetsuru’s spine. “This, I can do,” Sanchoumou whispered.

Himetsuru wanted to laugh, but could only manage a shaky huff. “This — This is like, fucking Sex 101,” she said through gritted teeth, “you really need to — learn more—” but the rest of her words devolved into half-suppressed whimpers as Sanchoumou picked up the pace, fucking into her once more, the new position hitting that sweet spot at a completely different angle —

“Learn how? Through practice?” Sanchoumou balanced herself on her knees, then reached up to brush stray hair out of Himetsuru’s face. “With you?”

“Hn… Nngh…”

A kiss to her chin, her jaw, the shell of her ear — Himetsuru jolted, lifting her legs up to wrap around Sanchoumou’s waist — another hard thrust that had her mouth falling open — “Yes,” she gasped out, tugging on Sanchoumou’s arm, “y-you can — kiss—”

Hardly a second later and Sanchoumou’s lips were on hers, hot and wet and so needy, tongue sliding along her bottom lip before pushing into her mouth, licking at the inside of her cheek and swallowing up the moan she made as Sanchoumou’s movements quickened, cock slamming into her — “Hime,” Sanchoumou groaned, pulling back to bite kisses down her throat again, each scrape of her teeth going straight to Himetsuru’s clit, “I’m… close…”

I can tell, Himetsuru wanted to say, except what left her traitorous mouth instead was “Then keep going — harder, S-Sanchoumou—” She reached down with her free hand, rubbed circles around her nipple through her clothes, and again almost laughed at how Sanchoumou’s gaze snapped to the sight, a low whine leaving her lips. “Hey, don’t stop,” Himetsuru chided, bucking her hips, trying to take more of Sanchoumou in, “more — fuck me more, Chomo, come in me—”

“Ah, fuck,” Sanchoumou groaned, burying her cock in deep as she came in Himetsuru.

Himetsuru probably should have known better than to think she wouldn’t come as much the second time around. Thick hot cum gushed in her, filling her up — she tilted her ass up to keep it from leaking out and felt more than saw Sanchoumou shudder at that, pushing in deeper and grinding the tip within her — and there was just so much of it — “Cho — Chomouuu…” Himetsuru almost sobbed, burying her face in the crook of Sanchoumou’s neck, “s-so… full, I’m… gonna…”

In lieu of replying Sanchoumou reached down with a trembling hand, and two, three sloppy strokes later Himetsuru was coming again, too, spurting all over both their stomachs, muffling her ragged cry in Sanchoumou’s shoulder.

This time Himetsuru didn’t protest when Sanchoumou pulled out of her; based on how Sanchoumou flopped to lie beside her on the cramped futon, it seemed like she’d finally worked the aphrodisiac out of her system anyway. After a moment Himetsuru pushed herself up on her elbows, craning her neck to look beneath her. “Hey. Look at this while you can.”

“Ngh…?” Sanchoumou lifted her head, eyes already bleary with exhaustion — before they widened and she hastily averted her gaze. “Oh, I, ah — I’ll — clean that. In a bit.”

Himetsuru rolled her eyes. “I said look, not clean. But you can do that too. In a bit.” She couldn’t get a very good view of what Sanchoumou was now shyly turning to look at again, but she could imagine: cum trickling out her pussy and down her inner thighs, probably adding to the mess on the futon. Laundry wasn’t going to be enough; they’d have to set the thing on fire. “So? How’re you feeling?”

Sanchoumou looked at her for a long moment, then pushed herself up on one palm to, of all things, kiss Himetsuru’s forehead. “Fine, thanks to you. And you? Are you… Do you hurt anywhere, or…”

“Nope.” Himetsuru lay back down on her side. “Goin’ to sleep now. If Nikkou-kun tries to come in here, stop her.”

She closed her eyes, but she could hear the amused smile in Sanchoumou’s voice when she spoke. “I can’t rightly stop her from entering her own room.”

“Well, that’s what she tried making me do earlier, so serves her right.”

“Hmm. Did she tell you not to come near here?” Sanchoumou’s voice grew further, accompanied by light footsteps, and Himetsuru reluctantly cracked her eyes open to watch as Sanchoumou opened one of the cabinets to pull out a towel. “I appreciate her help… her attempt at help, anyway. I really…” She turned away for a moment, running a hand through her disheveled hair, but even from here Himetsuru could spot the familiar pink tinge to her ears. “I thought no one else had noticed. But you did?”

“Hmph.” Himetsuru closed her eyes again just as Sanchoumou turned back to face her. “It was obvious. Sweating up a storm like you were in the middle of a cold day? Either you caught the flu or you ate an extra brownie from Atsuki’s batch.”

Sanchoumou hummed. “I suppose.” A pause, and then, “Hime…tsuru, you’ll stay right here? I’ll get water to wash you down.”

“’Kay.”

Another pause, longer. “You won’t go anywhere?”

Himetsuru sighed, finally deigning to open an eye. Sanchoumou was standing by the room’s doorway and looking comically worried, wringing the towel between her hands. “What is this, a one night stand? I will if you keep yappin’ at me when I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

Sanchoumou’s shoulders relaxed — and there was that fondness in her voice again as she said, “Right. Forgive me. Get some rest,” then pulled the sliding doors open and slipped out.

Himetsuru waited a second, just in case Sanchoumou had forgotten something, then buried her face in a relatively clean bit of futon beneath her and groaned. Now she’d well and truly gotten into the sort of situation she had time and time again told herself not to — she knew nothing good would come of consorting with yakuza who were terrible at being yakuza, much less their head — but there was no going back now. Even if she tried to turn around and say this had meant nothing to her, that she’d just done this so Sanchoumou would owe her an equally monumental favor in the future, Himetsuru doubted she’d even be able to convince herself.

“…Stupid… idiot…”

Of course Himetsuru had noticed something was off about Sanchoumou earlier. She wasn’t the only one who liked looking.