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The way his hands twist and turn over your body, dipping into every curve with expertise and experience. He’s touched you before, he touched you exactly like this before, memorizing ever rise and fall, every area that made you twitch or moan or gasp and buck your hips against him.
The oil was always warm in his hands. He made sure it was, he took good care to warm it in those large hands.
His hands were a work of art, both the artist and the art, the first touch began at your shoulders, his height towering over you, sending your body down a rabbit hole of thoughts.
Until your mind was forced to be silent.
He had six eyes. You never questioned it, in fact the first time you met him you didn’t have the time to question it. This man…or this beast, this monster was persistent.
He expressed his attraction towards you upfront and politely, a man of his stature, his strength bowing down before a woman as she tended to her crops.
“Someone like you shouldn’t be out here at this time.” He didn’t raise his head, only when you assured him you were serious about your crops did he look at you to show his abnormalities.
Upper one, the middle pair read. You’re not sure what he’s upper one for, or if there’s more or a being who rests above his rank, but his strength didn’t need to be shown. You can feel it when he stands over you.
That night after he left, you were planning on finishing your crops the next morning.
Everything was planted when you went outside. Everything that needed to be picked was on your doorstep in your baskets, organized and cleaned of soil.
The man returned the next night in the rain, gently knocking at your door until you slid it open, taken aback by his sudden visit.
“Come in! You’ll catch a cold.”
Despite the man knowing he wouldn’t get sick he let you wrap him in a blanket and towel dry his hair. He seen your attention to detail, how even though this man probably faced worse than a little rain, you make sure to pat the back of his neck and leave his hair to air dry.
“I need to know your name.” He looks across the room to you where you stand to cook. You offer him some soup, he denies.
You insist he’ll get sick, yet he still denies. His only interest lies in your name.
“Y/n.” You don’t eat either, bringing another blanket to drape over his shoulders.
You baby him, and he begins to like it after the third blanket and you take his hair tie and release his damp hair. You bring a warm towel. Still trying to warm him up. You’re so oblivious to the danger you invited in your home.
“You may call me Michikatsu. The name I have now is what my subordinates and my business partner call me. You will not enter that life, so I will not share it with you.”
“You have a beautiful name.” You tap the towel to his forehead, watching the man smile gently.
He holds your wrist.
“Most people see me and scream. You’ve shown me great hospitality and care. Are you married?” He asks, eager for your answer. He looks up at you with so much heart in his eyes. An emotion you’re sure he’s not used to showing.
You’re taken aback by his words. Married? Such a question already after just learning his name. You were sure anyone would’ve warmed him and offered him soup with how kind his is.
But with the second name he mentioned, maybe those who know that name know that side of him. But towards you he’s gentle. .
“I’m…I’m engaged to be married.” You say nervously, before you slowly continue.” Our families arranged it.”
He looks at you silently.
“I’ve kept you up far too long, I’m sure you have plenty to do tomorrow morning. I guess after leaving this life once, I missed it. I lost myself over the years.” He shrugs the blankets off and neatly places them on the floor in front of the mat he sat on.
“Wait.” You grab his arm before he can reach your door.” It’s still raining. You could stay until it clears up, I don’t mind.”
His hand comes up to caress your cheek, feeling the soft skin of your face, gently smiling down at you before he turns.
“I’d love to stay, but not tonight. Tomorrow night I will return for you. I’ll be here at sunset.”
He was punctual, waiting at your doorstep kneeled down with his eyes closed, almost as if he were sleeping, but you knew he wasn’t. His back was too straight, his body too stiff. He didn’t sway or tilt, kneeled like a statue.
You had some supplies in your hands for your dinner for the week, enough for two if the man would keep returning.
“It’s nice to see you, Michikatsu.” You greet him with a smile. He likes how you say his name. How friendly and excited you sound over a mere stranger.
“I’d like to begin courting you, Y/n.”
“Me?” You take a step back as he stands up, reaching out to take your groceries and holds them for you.
“You.” He confirms.” You have a very beautiful heart. You remind me of someone I knew some years ago.”
“I don’t know…I’m not much of….I’m still learning to be wifely. I only just found out of the engagement and I-“
He chuckles, stepping aside as you open your door. He’s laid claim to this territory, being upper one he gets whatever he wants. No other demon would dare step foot within fifty miles of this house. His stretch of land, all alone with this single woman.
He’s earned his respect from his subordinates.
“I’m not looking for you to act wifely. I like you as you are.” He leaves your supplies on the table, coming back around towards you. His hands were gentle as he lifted your chin to look at him.” You are too beautiful and kind to be alone, and surely too delicate to spend your human life working every day.”
He wouldn’t want to damage you by making you a demon. While he loves the possibility and he would love to have you to himself forever, he would hate to lose your humanity.
What makes you kind and giving and generous.
“Your hair is very beautiful.” The water runs down your thick curls, the puff now a long stream of black.
He washes your back and your hair and only those two . His hands don’t wander, and he leaves afterwards to let you be in your privacy.
As you sat down, the small bowl of oil wasn’t too thin, thick enough to keep your skins moisture sealed in. There were still clumps that would melt in the warmth of his hands.
The first time he does it you melt in his touch, his careful hands moving from your calf up to your knee, spreading the oil up your inner thighs and massaging it into that area thoroughly.
If you weren’t mistaken you’d think he was appreciating your body, the weight his hands trained on certain areas, almost bitter and reluctant to move from the area.
It became a routine in every area, every limb becoming his honor, and then his need. He couldn’t stand not touching you, his fingers eager to rub over your soft skin and appreciate every inch.
“Y/n.” He sighs against your neck, his lips kissing and licking into your flesh, sharp teeth teasing your neck but never going deeper than a short nibble of your flesh.
You’re not even sure how you ended up like this. At first he was rubbing your arm, mouth attacking yours, his tongue eager to meet yours, passionate kisses one after another until he couldn’t take the torture any longer.
You leaned against his hips, sat on his face, grinding in agreement with his hungry tongue.
He locks your wrists in one of his hands, he didn’t send you to do anything but lay there, and as his tongue lapped over your folds you squirmed in his iron grip. You couldn’t even slip from him with the oil covering his hands.
His strength was absolute. One hand stayed on your ass, gripping the flesh, rubbing over it, feeling every inch, squeezing, worshipping as he savored your sweet taste.
His tongue flicked across your clit, his hands electrifying up your skin as his grip on your hip is tight, and you moaned and bucked, trying to both grind closer and catch a break from the intense pleasure.
For a moment he seemed disappointed by how quickly your orgasm overtook your body, but no worries, he can always build you up, lengthen your time and help you last longer so he can enjoy your taste for hours.
Your hiccuped cries as overstimulation began to settle, closing your thighs around his head, before fully trying to rush forward away from him let him know you couldn’t take anymore.
“Too much…” you tried to lift up as you whined. He looked past your thigh up at your exhausted face. You had rested your head against him, lidded eyes looking back at him. Your body is shaking against him, the aftershocks of your orgasm leaving your body overstimulated.
“I will see you tomorrow night.” You sit up, slowly scooting off of his torso to lay next to him.
“What about you?”
“You will have me when the time is right. You will terminate your engagement” He leans forward to kiss his goodbye into your lips. You open your mouth to speak, to tell him your obligation is absolute, out of your control. But Michikatsu is gone once again.
But he always returns once the sun sets.
This time the man comes with gifts.
Essential oils in packaging seemingly coming from every corner of the earth. Oils made from things you were sure only grew outside of Japan.
The basket is packed up to the top.
“I forgot to ask what your favorite was. So I found as many as I could get my hands on.”
“Michikatsu…” you gaze at what’s presented to you. You let him in and he sets the baskets down on your table.
Under the collection of oils is another basket filled with perfumes.
“You can try these another time. For now, we’ll find your favorite.”
“My…my favorite…”
He picks up a bottle, staged perfectly at the top.
“This one specifically, I think you’ll enjoy.” He opens the top, bringing the oil to your nose to let you smell.
Mango. Lovely and sweet. Comforting like a smell you’ve smelt so many times but never encountered all at once.
He lets you hold it while he grabs a chair, picking it up and bringing it to the center of the room.
With a firm hand he guides you to sit on it, kneeling in front of you as he pours the oil over his fingers.
“I travelled very far for this. I spoke to someone has extensive knowledge on most oils and concoctions.”
His gaze locks with yours and he strokes his fingers over your inner thigh, and gently trails further up. His fingers like feathers to your folds. You bunch your kimono up in your hands, hiking it up further so you can spread your legs wider for him.
“Don’t be alarmed.” He presses his fingers in, long and skilled, moving carefully yet deeply.
It’s warm. No, it’s getting warm, almost hot.
“Michi-“ your alarm is quickly dissipated as he feels around your velvety walls.” Oh my—your fingers are—“ your words leave you to become nothingness. He’s watching your every movement as if he’s studying you. Watching how your back arched, how your chest is pushed higher up, hips moving to angle him closer and farther at the same time.
“You’re so sensitive.” His hand pulls your kimono apart, exposing more skin until it’s just clinging onto your shoulders and waist.” Are you sensitive here too?”
He gently reaches up to tweak your nipple, sending a shock through your legs and making you tremble.
“Y-yes.” You try to grab his wrist. He’s much stronger than you. You can’t move him, you can’t stop him if you wanted to. As you hold onto his wrist, nails digging into him he remains. Teasing, stroking.
“You will be my wife instead. You were made for me, look how you react to the simplest of touches.”
“Michikatsu! R-right there...” even as you say that your hips continue to rock, thighs shaking around him.
“I know where. Remember last night.” He kissed your inner thigh.” Or do you need a reminder of how well I mapped out your body.”
He nips and licks the open skin as you clench around his fingers. Your head begins to spin. Leaning your head back and sighing out in bliss.
“That’s it.” He praises, licking over your clit as your buck against him wildly, riding his face with the same vigor you did last night. He grows addicted to your taste with each passing second.
His hand travels from your nipple for just a moment, moving further up your chest to your neck, then stroking back down to your opposite breast. His viciously delicious touches begin again, making your eyes cross painfully, your toes curling and every muscle in your body tensing.
You grip the sides of the chair, hitting his arm but to no avail. As if he doesn’t feel pain, unbothered by your batting hands.
He watches as your entire body seems to gulp in air, every breath extending your lungs, exhausted as you ride out your orgasm against his face. This time he doesn’t push you farther. He lets your body decide when it’s had enough.
“How was that?” He asks. He knows the answer. But his pride is swelling in his chest like never before.
“Great.” Is all you can breathe out. It was more than great, it was more than amazing, but every limb feels like jelly and michikatsu’s strong hand keeps you from tipping out of the chair.
He smiles and stands up.
“I hope you enjoy your presents.”
“Can you stay. For one night, can you stay?” You quickly sit up and you see him preparing to leave. You don’t want him to leave.
“I can’t.”
“Please.” You grab hold of his sleeve, and as if your strength was greater than his, he stood still, looking down into your pleading eyes. As if all the stars of the night sky were shining straight into his. He relents.
“I’ll stay.”
-
You lay next to him, body snuggled into his. He’s warm, surprisingly warm especially with how cold he may come off to others.
His fingers trail sweet sugar filed touches over your body, his lips spreading kisses on every acre of available skin.
“You’re so soft.” He says. You wouldn’t survive a minute in his world. Even if he had given you his blood, you’d be a soft demon. You’d be of no use, and disposed of.
But here you’re just innocent to the knowledge he has. Untainted by the true horrors of the world.
You cling to him tightly as you begin falling asleep. As if he’d leave the second you let him go.
By morning. You awake alone. You’re disappointed, the warmth you felt now empty and cold. He was good to cuddle, good to touch as if your bodies were melded perfectly, tailored specifically to each other.
But there’s a note neatly written and placed on the pillow you made him lay on.
See you tonight.