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Just This Once

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Just this once, Kamui tells herself. Just this once, because after tonight she will let him go. Let him go isn't exactly the correct phrase, because he isn't hers to get go of; Azura has taken firm possession over his heart, and there will be someone else after that. Kamui isn't bitter about it. She wishes for his happiness in the days to come after the war.

So tonight…just this once…he will love her.

The prospect both thrills and saddens her throughout the rest of the afternoon. The weather is moderate, the sunlight is golden. Nothing about the exuberant foliage and bursting buds of spring suggests an ending. Kamui smiles to herself. Yes, this is how it should be. Her un-sisterly feelings should quietly and imperceptibly slip away on the breeze. Perhaps they will find their way to the edge of the Astral Plane and fade into the aetherial nothingness.

It is dark when she returns to her quarters. Jakob hides his sleepiness, but doesn't argue when Kamui insists she doesn't need anything for the remainder of the evening.

Tonight, as always, she locks the door.

She sighs and slips off her black headband, the one with the silver pin. She undoes the hair tie and the braid and lets the naturally silver curls cascade down her back.

One by one, she removes the pieces of armor on her body. First, the gauntlets. Removed, they sit contentedly on the table, side by side, like old friends. Then, the jeweled brooch and the collared cravat it holds to her neck. The clasps on the breastplate, and then the heavy plate itself. The thick, jointed armor covering her right leg, and the left. Everything has its pair and its special place.

All that remains are a black leotard, black thigh-high stockings, and the garters connecting the two. Perhaps it's a habit picked up from another lifetime spent in a twilight country, but Kamui has always felt most comfortable in dark clothing.

She unhooks the garters and rolls down the stockings, relishing how smooth the cloth feels as it presses against her legs, enjoying the slight sense of release that follows the removal of restrictive clothing. Last is the leotard, which she pulls down to her hips and then steps out of. Sable cloth pools on the floor where she leaves it, like a silky shadow.

She is now in lingerie. Kamui stops for a second to admire her figure in front of the mirror, observing how the soft swell of her breasts push against the bra. It had once bothered a younger princess to see how her assets paled in comparison to Camilla's voluptuous curves. Kamui compresses her arms to her body, squeezing her chest together. Her cleavage is now heavily pronounced, and she laughs to herself, amused at the sight. She passes the mirror by, carelessly removing her last articles of clothing on the way to the bath. Perhaps Jakob will be scandalized in the morning when he sees his mistress's bra irreverently hanging from a chair, but for Kamui, tonight is about a departure from routine, an absorption into self-indulgent freedom.

As the moon reaches the peak of its heavenly trajectory, Kamui washes herself slowly and attentively, as if she were offering her body to the gods. She hums as she pours scented oil into the bath and covers herself in a soapy lather. When she rises from the water, Kamui smells divine and her skin glows under the lamplight. The tips of her hair cling to her body, trailing rivulets down her abdomen, her back, her thighs…

For a moment, she debates taking herself directly to bed like this, then decides against it. She wants to draw out the experience for as long as she can.

Kamui slips on her only piece of seductive nightwear, a sheer chemise she has never used. It is a soft grey, with bows and frills and lace accents, and there are panties to match. She chuckles at how girlishly innocent it looks; what was she thinking when she bought this?

She sits among swaths of meticulously fluffed pillows and plush bedding, and draws her knees to her chest. Despite all her charisma and martial prowess, the princess looks vulnerably small against the backdrop of her bed. Now, the fantasy begins. Just this once, she reminds herself.

She would be reading in bed. He…he would come to her bedside and slide under the covers, next to her, as if it was natural. Kamui propped up a pillow where he might sit. Did I keep you up? He might ask. I like waiting for you, she might answer. Then she'd put down her book and blow out the candles on the nightstand…

It was dark now. She would…snuggle up to him. Kamui hugged the pillow shyly, burying her face into the crook just below his jawline. He would laugh his gentle laugh, perhaps kiss between her brows. She imagined his breath tickle her face…

Then his lips would press against hers. Kamui closed her eyes. It would begin chaste, and then become something more. She parts her lips, wondering what it would feel like if his tongue explored her mouth…what would it feel like to explore his?

Ah…she could feel the muscles in her lower abdomen tighten. Her fingers grasp at the pillowcase. Perhaps! Perhaps he'd lavish attention on her ears…reward her with his teeth and tongue… would he breathe out her name in a low whisper? Kamui. She shivers. Yes…he would make his excruciatingly slow way down her neck… and she would wrap her arms around his neck, run her fingers through his scalp, caress his lovely hair…

"I wore this for you," she whispers out into the darkness. She imagines his smile against her skin. He might tease her about how frilly her lingerie was, before dipping his tongue between her breasts. One of his hands would pull the chemise down and the other would press against her… Kamui's hands followed suit… and he would play with her body…

She knows her nipples are already stiff. She's never felt it so vividly before, just touching herself without anyone in mind. Even the lightest brush of cloth or skin sends a thrill jumping through to her toes. Her legs shift unconsciously.

Would his fingers trail up her inner thigh? Would they trace patterns on her stomach? Caress her waist? Or would he be rougher, grabbing at the curve of her ass? Her breathing begins to strain. She wants--no, she needs to know.

He presses her against the bed, their warm bodies flush against each other in a desperate tangle of sheets and skin. As they kiss again and again, his knee pushes its way between her thighs. His fingers would find her already damp, and apply pressure in languid, long strokes…! Her body jolts as her fingers ghost over herself. Ah…she wants him to tease her, more… Does it feel good here, Kamui?

She wants to tease and undress him, too. What would he wear to bed? A kimono? Ah…she can see it now, his coffee-colored hair untied, the scarlet sash of his robe crooked…his chest showing. He is self-conscious about his slender figure, but she has never minded. She imagines tugging at the sash and watching fabric fall away from his body. Kamui kisses his neck and lets her fingers trace down his spine. Would he like that? Is he as sensitive as she is? He would surely blush. She measures his reaction in her mind. At what point does his self-conscious pride give way to unadulterated pleasure? She doesn't know. She envisions the expressions he might make when aroused. She desires to see him come undone by her, to submit to her touch and lose his usual control. Just once, she wants to see him gaze at her with that hazy, dreamy look in his eyes. What sounds might he make?

Just thinking about it makes her ache. She slips her hand under flimsy, damp fabric, and continues to stroke.

He would coax her with words and kisses, and gently push her legs apart, settling between them. His tongue would fervently explore, tracing patterns with varying pace, finally easing itself inside. One fingertip of Kamui's, then a second, slips out of sight.

Kamui's hips buck despite themselves. Her mind sings with the electricity of the body. The live hum of the current escapes between her pressed lips, filling the air with fuzzy static. It settles on the surface of her raised skin, and seeps back into the nerves. She's never felt more aroused in her life.

He…he would be impatient. He would desire her just as much as she does him----. No, for once, he wants her more than she wants him. He wants her so badly that it drives him mad, more than anyone or anything else he's ever lusted after in his life, past, current, or future. He'd whisper. Please, Kamui, I can't hold back any longer. He is fire given form, and everything is hot, it is too hot to bear--

 And he would begin to push--she hungrily slides her fingers in place of him--slowly…ah, he …!

She cries out softly, whimpering as her fingers disappear inside her. And…he would begin to thrust… call out her name…tell her how perfect, how amazing


She lets out a series of muted moans as she thrusts with her fingers. The motion makes a lewd, wet sound, but she is beyond caring.


"Takumi," she whimpers. "Takumi, I'm…"

He's looking at her in her mind, and though the room is completely dark and her eyes are closed, she swears she can see the sun and stars and moon all at once, she sees double, they've been reflected over still water, the earth is spinning forty-four times its usual rate, and her heart is pounding. She flips over and buries her face in her pillow before riding out her climax. Her body gasps and trembles at every wave, and she waits for the tide to stop lapping at her feet.

When the glow begins to fade, she allows herself one final indulgence. She imagines holding him as they drift off to sleep, as secure in each other's arms as they are in their hearts. I love you, he murmurs sleepily. Her heart is full and empty at the same time.

Just this once, she reminds herself before sleep overcomes her, and now you have to let him go.