"Kusanagi!" she called desperately, clenching and unclenching her fists. Kusanagi paused within her doorway at the nervous sound of her voice and turned, leaning with his hand pressed against the door jam.

"What is it, Princess?" He inquired.

His countenance was shuttered, protective; an expression that Momiji understood a little better now. It wasn’t so much that he was trying to block her out as it was that he was trying to keep his emotions under control. In his own pig-headed way, he was trying very hard to be noble.

But she didn’t want him to be noble.

Desperately, she cast about for something to make him stay, and her tongue got twisted into a knot, as she blurted out, "U-uhhmderwear!"

Kusanagi blinked at her.

"Are you starting a new fashion trend? Undergarments for the indecisive?" he asked.

"No, I," Momiji bit her lip, "I meant, my underwear. I was wondering – "

"Oh," Kusanagi interrupted with an enlightened look. "That’s right, I forgot to tell you. They’re in there," he told her with a vaguely pointed finger, "in your closet behind that sexy little green dress of yours."

Momiji’s brain honed in on the word ‘sexy’, and she experienced a rush of pleasure before the meaning of the rest of his words sunk in. There was a pregnant pause and then Momiji’s eyes ricocheted from him, to her closet and then back to him again. "You hid them in my closet?" she demanded, a peevish note creeping into her voice. That was the one place she hadn’t thought to look.

Easily reading her expression, he said a little smugly, "Didn’t even see it coming, did you, Princess?"

"No, I didn’t," she grumbled, adding, "shame on you, Kusanagi!"

"What?" He widened his eyes, going for the innocent look, but his lecherous grin ruined the effect. "I had to find a good hiding place to ensure that you wore those." His eyes dipped towards her waist.

"Really," she exclaimed, "the lengths you go to just to infuriate me! The least you could have done was throw them in the washer or something. – Not leave them in a wad at the back of my closet!"

"Oh but that would have interfered with my own plans, you see," he told her with a knowing smile.

"And what plans were those?" she inquired, pleased with herself at having managed to distract him from trying to leave for the present.

Kusanagi’s smile took on a crooked bend at her question and he replied ruefully, "Well, I knew that you had worn them specifically for my benefit a long time ago; even though I never got the chance to see them. So, I was going to ask you to show them to me tonight and then –" he stopped abruptly.

He could see from Momiji’s face that she was keenly interested in hearing the rest of his ‘plan’, but he thought it rather imprudent to be having this conversation right now. It was only making him want to throw all his good intentions out the window and let his hands have free reign over her body. The distance that separated them ensured him that that wasn’t going to happen, but it couldn’t stop his eyes from doing what the rest of him wanted to do, and they glided over her petite frame, following the delicate bones of her ankles, to the shapely curve of her calves that disappeared beneath the hem of her robe before climbing the rest of her enshrouded body to her face.

Even bundled in its shapelessness, Kusanagi thought she was beautiful. Her hair shimmered softly, framing the perfect oval of her face, and her emerald eyes, set beneath long dark lashes, stared guilelessly at him with an almost child-like quality. It was her eyes that helped to soothe some of the unabated hunger building in his veins. As he was drawn into them, he immersed himself in the expression of their innocence, and was able to stiffen his resolve enough to draw in a deep breath and say in a carefully neutral way, "The rest of my plan doesn’t matter now."

He forced his eyes away from her, and he looked at his fingers, noticing for the first time that he was gripping the wood of the doorframe awfully hard. He made himself relax.

"I did get to see your underwear anyway – sort of -" he acknowledged weakly, his mouth twisting in irony as he fought the compulsion to look at her again. He compromised by letting his eyes wander back to her, but refrained from focusing on any part of her that might be considered, alluring – which meant he ended up staring at the bulky knot of her belt. "Anyway, Princess," he murmured, getting ready to wrap up their conversation and flee, "I think I should -"

"How did you know?" Momiji asked in a rush, cutting of his words of withdrawal.

"Know?" he echoed reluctantly, knowing he really needed to retreat at this point.

‘Yes, about the heart underwear. How did you know?" She would have taken a step towards him, but she could see the edginess in his stance, and she was afraid that getting closer to him would drive him from the room.

"I found them when I was ransacking your drawers, collecting all the others," he replied. "They were stuck in the back, but very easy to see. If you had meant for them to be hidden, you did a poor job of picking the right spot. Although it does makes me wonder why you had them hidden in the first place."

Intensely interested to know the reason, he reluctantly lifted his eyes to her face.

"Why I hid them? I don’t know, exactly," she replied slowly. "Lot’s of reasons, I think. –They represent a lot of painful memories in a way, and I think that’s probably the main reason - so they wouldn’t be a constant reminder of what I had lost. "

Painful memories.

The day he had discovered that Kaede was still alive.

Recalling that day, Kusanagi could see how that would have affected Momiji. He grimaced, hating how much his obsession for Kaede had hurt her. "If it hurts that much to remember, then why would you want to keep them at all, Momiji?" he asked quietly, his eyes soft with empathy.

A fleeting smile crossed her face and she replied, "Because even though the memories were painful, there was always hope for tomorrow. If I had given in to the memories and thrown them away, then it would have been like saying that my feelings for you didn’t matter - that I should acknowledge that what I wanted was impossible, and I should just give up. I – I don’t think I could ever do that, Kusanagi – give up I mean." Her hands were now twisting fitfully together in front of her while she talked. " - Even after I moved here, and you stayed behind in Tokyo, I still kept them, hoping that one day, you would see them and realize that they meant something to me, that you meant something to me and… realize that I meant something to you too."

"I’m glad you didn’t give up, Momiji," he told her softly, "and I hope you’ll wear them again some time, Princess, so that I can show you how much I appreciate the sentiment they express, as well as admire the… er... view."

Choosing these to be his final words, he removed his hand from the door jam, and straightened to a standing position.

Momiji saw he was getting ready to leave again and, realizing she was completely out of excuses to keep him there, she started getting flustered.

"Wait!" she all but shouted, and then bit her lip, looking helplessly at him. "W-what about now?" she finally managed to stutter. "I mean, would you like to see them now?" Her hands fluttered up to clutch at the lapels of her robe.

Kusanagi gave her a sharp look, hesitating a fraction of a second before he responded. "I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Princess. You took quite a beating this afternoon and –"

Pig-headed to the very end, she thought glumly, not even listening to his excuses. Laying aside all modesty and dignity, she resolutely took hold of her courage and thought, I can be just as pig-headed as you, Kusanagi. Spinning on her heel, her hair flying in all directions, she quickly unbelted her robe and began to slide it down her shoulders.

"I know it’s not the most attractive view, with the bandages and everything," she mumbled a little apologetically, quickly pulling the robe all the way off, and wadding it into a bundle to hold in front of her chest. "But you should at least – get to – to see them -" she said shyly, her voice getting softer and softer with each syllable, feeling extremely self-conscious despite her sudden determination to be the winner in this battle of wills, "and see what they say without having the added distraction of… having to play… doctor."

There was such a lengthy silence that Momiji wondered if Kusanagi had just turned around and walked off, leaving her standing there alone. That was a lowering thought. Turning her head, she shot a furtive look over her shoulder and was relieved to find him still there, a stony look on his face.

Her glance seemed to spur him into speech though, for he opened his mouth and croaked, "They… truly are… very… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so…" he stopped, sheepishly realizing that at that moment, he sounded a lot like Momiji. Pushed to the limits of his endurance, he hurriedly finished, "I really think I should go now."

Momiji bit her lip, her eyes shimmering with vulnerability. She looked away from him, then, turning to stare at the bed, not wanting him to see the desperation on her face. His will was apparently stronger than hers, for in the face of his continued resistance, Momiji knew that she couldn’t take the ultimate step of physically reaching out to him to bar him from leaving. Despite the fact that she knew he cared, she was still too afraid of being pushed away, too used to that feeling of failure when he distanced himself from her.

"Please?" She heard the whispered entreaty, at first not realizing that it had come from her own lips, and then added to it. "Please, don’t go, Kusanagi," she beseeched. "I want… I want you to stay. Here. With me." Again there was a lengthy silence, and Momiji closed her eyes, her fingers convulsively tightening around the robe. The silence could only be a sign of his steadfast denial and her head dropped forward in defeat. "I’m sorry," she apologized, fighting for her composure, "I shouldn’t have asked you to –"

Her eyes shot open and her voice wavered, breaking off in surprise. Kusanagi’s bronzed arms had encircled her, carefully pulling her back against the warmth of his chest, and she was surprised yet again when she felt his flesh brush against her shoulders - his chest was completely bare, she suddenly realized – he had removed his shirt, which was probably what had taken him so long to respond to her.

"My god, Momiji," he whispered against her ear, his hands engulfing hers where she still had the robe clutched to her chest, "do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Momiji’s only response was to breathe his name in a shaky voice as he slowly removed the robe from her nerveless grasp and let it slide to the floor. Feeling his breath against her ear, she didn’t resist him when he switched the position of their hands so that hers rested on top and his were splayed where her robe had been. His fingers rested lightly against her ribcage just beneath the rounded curve of her breasts and their heat penetrated her skin despite the protective gauze covering.

Momiji curled her fingers around his, almost as if she thought he might pull away and leave her bereft of their warmth. But Kusanagi had no such intentions. His only desire for the moment was to touch her, to feel the satin slide of her skin against his fingers and explore the exquisite curves of her body. Slowly, he moved his hands downwards, his thumbs grasping at Momiji’s fingers so that she moved with him. Keeping his touch light, he traced the smooth, flat plane of her abdomen, slowing to circle her navel with his index finger before continuing downwards, his palms curving around her upper thighs, swinging inwards to teasingly graze the area where her thighs joined together.

Momiji made a slight noise in the back of her throat at the whisper of sensation that rippled through her at his touch, and she unconsciously tightened her grip on his hands. He slowly circled the triangular v of her body several times, barely touching her, but already she could feel the heat seeping into her veins where it began to burn.

Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back against his shoulder. Her lips parted as her heart fluttered erratically against her chest and she listened to the sound of Kusanagi’s breathing which had become harsh as well, feeling it heat scald her skin as he nuzzled against her neck.

"Momiji, are you sure this is what you want?" he breathed in a low, hoarse voice.

She didn’t respond. He had already stolen any ability she might have had to answer him, and she was completely at his mercy as his hands began to prowl again. They languorously retraced the path they had taken before, not stopping at the bandages but continuing onwards until he was gently cupping her breasts, caressing them with his palms.

A tremor ran through Momiji as his thumbs brushed against her nipples, and she pressed his hands harder against her, feeling her skin tighten as he molded their shape, lightly kneading their supple roundness with his fingers.

Spasms of pleasure went shooting through her nerve endings, and she squirmed against him, a distressed "No!" torn breathlessly from her when his hands trailed away, relinquishing his hold on hers and gliding up to her shoulders, leaving her breasts aching with longing and her hands seeking his warmth.

"No?" Kusanagi echoed as he gently turned her to face him. "So you aren’t sure that this is what you want?"

"No - that’s not what I meant," she whispered distractedly, the thoughts associated with her words flitting away as she focused on his body and the havoc it was wreaking on hers. She wanted to touch him, her eyes, fixated on his bronzed skin and the taught muscles of his chest and shoulders. She put her fingers up and traced the light pink slash on his right shoulder; all that remained of his wounds from his fight this afternoon. "You’re body is amazing, you know that?" she murmured in awe.

She slipped her arms around him and leaned her face against his chest, and Kusanagi’s lips quirked into a half smile as he felt the sweep of her lashes flutter lightly against him. "And I hardly even work out," he replied lightly.

"Well, that’s not exactly what I meant," she demurred and Kusanagi chuckled.

"Seems you’re having trouble saying what you mean tonight, Princess," he remarked, gently disentangling her arms from around him. "I asked you a question and you answered no, which you then promptly recanted – so, tell me, for I’m sure I don’t understand - if no doesn’t mean no, then – what does it mean?" He slid his fingers through her hair, angling her face upwards so that he could look at her. God but he couldn’t get enough of her, he thought, looking at the soft, unfocused color of her eyes. He could make love to her all night long – if she would let him.

"I wasn’t saying no to you," she replied. "I was saying no, because I didn’t want you to stop touching me," she murmured lowly.

Kusanagi’s fingers tightened against her scalp at her response, but still he hesitated.

"You’re absolutely certain, this is what you want?" he asked one last time.

Momiji’s eyes suddenly came sharply into focus and she gave him a searching look.

"Why?" she asked, a sliver of hesitancy creeping into her voice. "Is… is this – do you not want this?"

She had barely phrased the question before he was swooping down on her, his mouth covering hers in a series of hungry kisses.

"I have been fantasizing about this moment for three years," he told her in between kisses, "I think I’d rather show you what I want, instead of tell you."

He began to back her up, moving her slowly towards the bed, his mouth trailing kisses along her jaw and neck before coming inexorably back to her lips.

"B-but you can tell me too!" Momiji gasped in protest, feeling the back of her knees make contact with the mattress. "I’m not at all sure what I should do."

Kusanagi broke off long enough to pull the sheets back on the bed, before easing her backwards. "Hmmm," he ruminated, settling himself beside her and propping up on his elbow to give her a speculative look. "You seem to have had it well in hand last night," he purred. Idly he trailed his index finger along her cheek, tracing the elegant column of her neck and the curve of her body until he got to her waist. Then he slid his palm around to the small of her back and pulled her closer, stopping only when he could lean down and nibble on her ear.

Momiji closed her eyes as his mouth played over her skin, and she arched into him, her hands resting against his chest. "But I didn’t really do anything last night – at least not that I recall," she mumbled thickly.

"Mmhmm," he murmured unintelligibly, and Momiji couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with her or not. "I thought you did a splendid job last night, Princess; but then again, I think you’re doing a splendid job right now."

"But," she inserted again, her voice wobbling uncontrollably as he nibbled his way down to her shoulder, "I’m not doing anything now.."

He stopped and lifted his face to hers, his eyes sparkling as he told her provocatively, "Trust me, Princess, you’re doing plenty –" He pulled closer, pressing his hips against hers and hinting, "You just need to look beyond the surface, to see it."

A playful smile tweaked the corners of his lips and he kept his eyes steadily pinned to her, waiting.

"You want me to look beyond the surface," she echoed in confusion, her voice trailing off as nodded his head, and then added, "the surface of what?"

"I’m sure if you think a moment, it will come to you," came his oblique reply.

Kusanagi kept waiting, wondering if he was actually going to have to spell it out for her when he sensed her move slightly, a questioning look on her face. A tentative brush of her fingers was followed by a weak tug as her hand slipped past his navel to the button on his jeans, and he gave her a slow, feline smile.

"See," he purred, his smile widening, "I knew you could figure it out."

So, he wanted her to remove his pants.

Biting her lip, her eyes drifted down to where her fingers were. Momiji had never removed someone else’s pants before, but - how hard could it be? It couldn’t be any harder than removing your own pants, surely? she conjectured. And yet, as she tried easing the silver, metallic button free from its mooring, it seemed to mock her logically drawn conclusion, confounding her efforts with every twist and turn, by not budging in the slightest.

Momiji stared at it, its silver face glinting up at her in the light. Was it just her, or did it seem like it was laughing at her?

Fool, she hissed at herself. It was just an ordinary button! Okay, maybe not an ordinary button, she silently amended when success at freeing it continued to elude her – but it was still just a stupid button! All she needed was to get a better grip on it, she thought distractedly. Drawing her brows together in a frown; the tip of her tongue peeked out to touch her upper lip in a pose of intense concentration. Locking her fingers in a death grip she began an intense struggle, pulling and jiggling and, as a last resort, violently jerking. Unbelievable, she thought in consternation, her eyes flying back to Kusanagi’s face when she heard him chuckle.

"Losing the battle, Princess??" he asked. Flashing her a grin, he plucked her fingers away from the button, giving them a light squeeze before letting them go. "Don’t worry; you might have lost the battle, but not the war. It’s probably better for me to do it anyway, since you don’t have a very good track record with buttons. I am somewhat amazed though, that you haven’t managed to completely yank this one off yet."

His eyes twinkled down at her and she gave him a sheepish look when, in less than a split second, the button became a non-issue as it was slipped free and Kusanagi shifted to pull his jeans off. As Momiji watched him, she was assailed by a sudden, overwhelming sense of unease. She knew the mechanics of sex; who didn’t? But what if she did something incredibly stupid - like with the button just now? After all, she knew very little about - she paused searching for the right word, and the only one that came to mind was, technique. She swallowed several times trying to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat as she watched Kusanagi’s hands hesitate on the brink of removing his underwear.

God please, don’t let me embarrass myself this first time, she lamented silently.

Kusanagi focused on Momiji and noted how she watched his hands in a kind of frozen fascination. Fear and uncertainty danced across her face along with a myriad of other emotions and he decided to wait a bit before removing his last piece of clothing. Instead he stretched out next to her, reaching for her, his hands caressing the soft skin of her shoulders before moving towards her face, his thumbs brushing along her jaw line.

"Relax, Momiji," he told her, dropping his earlier teasing manner and giving her a reassuring smile, "This isn’t a test."

She started at his words. A humorous glint flared unexpectedly in her eyes, and Kusanagi sensed some of her unease dissipating.

"Not a test?" she remarked, trying to achieve a light, bantering tone, "I thought perhaps this might be classed as field study - or is this not part of the curriculum to the doctor’s lessons you mentioned earlier?"

Completely caught of guard by her sudden coyness, Kusanagi gave an appreciative laugh, the sound low and seductive, "Hmm," he paused in mock deliberation, his intense gaze roaming over the beautiful curves of her body as he let his fingers play up and down her spine. "I think this definitely could be classed as some highly intensive field study, since there are several noteworthy regions that I would like for us to explore. I could tell you to make mental notes on those areas that we touch on," he gave her a wolfish smile as he spoke, adding, "- but somehow, Princess, I doubt you’ll need them. You seem to be well equipped to deal with any situation that might arise," he murmured wickedly. "The only thing left to do now is familiarize yourself with the, er, tools, that will play a key part in our research." He lead one of her hands down his body until it was resting against his groin and with light movements, brushed her fingers against him, watching her eyes widen as she felt the hard length of his arousal beneath the fabric of his underwear. "Every doctor relies on tools, and knowing what they are will give you a distinct advantage, for as you must know, a doctor cannot hope to excel unless he has the proper tools."

A little self-conscious at first, Momiji brushed her fingers against him, her hesitancy dissolving into a patent interest at how rigid he felt pressed against her hand. "I’m guessing that you must be an excellent doctor," Momiji replied, her face flushing with color at her admission, "since you seem to have, ahem, top of the line equipment."

Now her face was bright red, and Kusanagi gave a throaty laugh.

"Flattery will get you every where with this doctor, Ms. Fujimiya," he assured her, leaning down to nibble on her jaw. "And so will what you’re doing with your hand," he groaned as she continued to stroke him.

His reaction to her touch fueled her own desire and, closing her eyes, Momiji began to wonder what his flesh would feel like without the barrier of cloth. Not realizing her intentions, Kusanagi experienced a moment of intense shock as Momiji’s hand breached the waistband of his underwear, slipping inside to grasp him, softly stroking his silken flesh. A ragged groan rose in the back of his throat and he pulled her hand free, realizing that he was on the brink of release as his nerve endings began to throb.

Momiji’s eyes flew open in concern to find him staring at her an almost pained expression in his eyes.

"D-did I do something wrong?" she stammered, confused.

"Oh no," he quickly reassured her in a rough voice. He was still holding her hand, and he guided it up his body, enjoying the soft, cool feel of her fingertips trailing across his skin. "You are doing everything very right, Momiji. – A little too right, actually."

Momiji’s mouth formed a small oh, as comprehension dawned and she automatically lifted her other arm to join the first which Kusanagi had placed around his neck.

"Now that you’re a little more familiar with things, I think it’s time to move on to the bulk of the lesson," he murmured, sliding his arms around her. He moved closer to her, until her breasts brushed against the warmth of his chest, making them become tight, and she closed her eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked softly.

His hands became entangled in her hair and his fingers climbed through her tresses to her scalp. Momiji responded by arching into him. Everything about him, his skin, his smell, the way he touched her – inflamed her senses, and the shadow of her worries disintegrated.

"Yes," she breathed, her lips automatically parting when she felt his breath fall against her face.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her arms tightened around him as Kusanagi’s mouth touched hers, softly at first and then with growing hunger, as his tongue insinuated itself into her mouth, sliding rhythmically against hers with its velvety softness as the urgency of their kiss grew. The fire in Momiji’s veins exploded into raging need, and her hands slid restlessly through the soft, dark strands of silk at the nape of his neck, trying to pull him even closer, as she worked to mold her body against his but with little success.

Fully understanding what she wanted, Kusanagi helped her by gently rolling her onto her back, his body following hers as he eased himself on top of her.

Balancing on his elbows, his broke their kiss long enough to look down at her in concern and ask, "Am I hurting your back?"

"No," Momiji quickly assured him.

Her reply ended in a gasp as Kusanagi’s lips began exploring her body with sensual deliberation and his fingers trailed along in their wake causing Momiji’s chest to rise and fall rapidly.

When he got to her hips, Kusanagi hooked his fingers around her panties and began to pull them down, pausing to say, "As nice as these are, I think it’s time to lose them if we want our lesson to proceed."

Shifting away from her, he made quick work of removing them, removing his at the same time before coming back to her. Now it was flesh against flesh, and he nudged her legs apart, making her body vulnerable to him as he slid between her thighs, aching to bury himself inside of her. But he couldn’t. Not yet, he told himself.

"Everything about you is so beautiful," he whispered, kissing her.

His breathing became ragged as he let his fingers drift over her body before finding her center and stroking her. Momiji gasped, arching into him as he fed the liquid heat between her thighs. A tension began to build deep inside, and she reached for him, desperate to touch him again. Her fingers brushed the velvety smoothness of his shaft and Kusanagi groaned, leaning heavily against her as she matched the rhythm of her stroke to his.

Kusanagi felt the caged wildness in his veins begin to break free and he shifted again, placing her hand around his neck as he pressed himself against her. He eased into her until he felt the barrier of her virginity and then he stopped. After a moment, he slowly let his body pick up where his fingers had left off, rhythmically moving into her as far as her barrier before retreating again.

Momiji whimpered, and the wildness surging through his body responded to the sound, urging him to bury himself all the way inside her. But Kusanagi gritted his teeth, purposefully maintaining his slow, shallow stroke. He knew what was to come and he wanted to wait, wanted Momiji’s desire to build until the last possible moment. He wanted her first time to be good, and if he gave in to his desire now, he knew that wasn’t likely to happen.

But Momiji didn’t seem to want him to wait.

The tension deep inside her had become an almost unbearable pleasure and instinctively she arched her back, trying to drive him deeper, using the soft folds of her body to beckon to him. Kusanagi managed to evade her efforts until she wrapped her legs around him and angled her hips up, rolling against him in a smooth motion.

"Momiji, no!" he warned urgently, his voice guttural and ragged.

He put his hands on her thighs and tried to push her away, but she refused to heed him, listening instead to the rhythm of her body as it propelled her onward. Her breath coming in gasps, she continued to roll her hips against him and at last, he shuddered, unable to take any more.

"Oh, god!" he cried in agony.

Burying his face against her neck, he followed her movements and surged forward, tearing through the thin membrane of her maidenhood until he was deep inside her. Her body was incredibly tight and warm, and he thought he would die if he didn’t start moving. But he had felt Momiji go rigid at his invasion, had heard her sharply indrawn breath, and he used every ounce of his strength to remain still, guilt and remorse plaguing him for having taken her so brutally.

"Momiji?" he finally managed, in a raspy, dry voice, lifting himself to look down at her. Her green eyes were dark with pain. "I’m so sorry, Princess," he whispered contritely.

Momiji gripped Kusanagi’s shoulders, her body throbbing in white hot pain. It felt like he was stretching her beyond her endurance, and she could feel the plea for him to stop trembling on her lips despite the fact that he wasn’t moving. This wasn’t his fault, she thought, seeing his stricken look, and she struggled to keep the grimace off of her face. After a moment some of the raw pain subsided and she was able to give him a tight smile.

"I’m okay," she assured him unevenly.

"Liar," he murmured softly, brushing his fingers along the sudden beads of sweat that had broken out against her forehead. "I shouldn’t have been so rough."

"No, Kusanagi," she countered earnestly, "It’s not your fault. I – I wanted… this. –"

"No you didn’t," he replied, referring to the pain.

"Stop," she demanded, her fingers feathering against his jaw. "It’s all right," she assured him, her eyes never wavering from his. "It only hurts a little now, and maybe if I just – " she began and tried shifting beneath him to try and relieve the feeling of fullness she had.

Kusanagi shuddered when she did and pressed his body tighter against her, wracked by a spasm of intense pleasure.

"No! Please… don’t… do that," came his tortured request.

As he pressed deeper into her, Momiji felt another twinge, and she tensed, waiting for the pain to slice through her. But it didn’t. Instead she was assailed by a pleasurable ripple of sensation and as it faded, she experimentally shifted again, curling her body upwards.

Kusanagi made a choking sound and closed his eyes.

"Momiji!" he hissed between gritted teeth.

He was so busy trying not to climax that he almost didn’t hear Momiji’s low moan. Quickly jerking his eyes open, he looked down at her in alarm. Dear god, why? He silently groaned. He hadn’t meant it to be this way. She was biting her lip, as if in excruciating pain, and her eyes were closed, but as he watched, they opened and focused on him. He kept looking at her, feeling so helpless, not knowing how to salvage the situation.

"Momiji, I –" he began but she interrupted him.

"I know you said not to," she breathed in a barely audible voice, "but… can I do that one more time? It felt – "

She never finished her sentence, instead squeezing her eyes closed, as another low moan rose in the back of her throat. Kusanagi hadn’t waited for her to finish once he realized what she was saying, and he had already taken the initiative, first slowly withdrawing, and then, just as carefully, thrusting back into her.

"- Like this?" he finished her sentence for her, his voice so taught it was near the breaking point.

Momiji wildly nodded her head, raising her hips to meet his thrusts and together, they moved in a slow rhythm. Kusanagi stared down at her, enthralled by the sheer pleasure written across her face. For her, he thought; at that moment, he existed only for her. Leaning down he brushed his lips against her, deepening the kiss as their pace began to quicken.

Momiji was pulled into the strong swirl of sensation that was building within her and she writhed beneath Kusanagi, desperately clinging to him as his thrusts became faster and more powerful. Immersing herself inside the solitary rhythm of their joined bodies; there was no beginning to her and no end to him; only the swelling tide of pleasure that unified them. Suddenly, Momiji’s body began to quiver and her climax hit her hard, crashing over her with incredible intensity. She cried out and heard Kusanagi’s voice mingle with hers as he stiffened, driving deeply into her one last time before collapsing weakly on top of her, his face pressed against her neck.

Momiji lay stunned, staring at the ceiling and clutching at Kusanagi’s shoulders, feeling an incredible sense of belonging fill her as she waited for the tumultuous tattoo of her heart to slow. Kusanagi remained motionless for several long moments, but slowly, his breathing became more regular, and Momiji felt him press his lips to her throat, murmuring her name before he shifted to his side, pulling her along with him so that their legs remained entangled and she lay within the cradle of his arms.

Together, they remained entwined, a complete stillness settling between them. Momiji glanced up at Kusanagi’s face, wondering what he was thinking, but he had his eyes closed and she was reluctant to disturb him, so she settled back against him and let her own eyes drift close.

Feeling the warmth of Momiji pressed against him, Kusanagi’s body relaxed, but some emotion deep inside him began to churn, something he had never felt before. It was rising steadily within him, and he sought to find a name for it.

Love?

Is that what this was, he asked himself in confusion.

But he already knew that he loved Momiji, so why did this feel so different?

Because you’re finally free, a voice whispered inside him.

Free? he thought.

Free.

The word echoed again and again through his mind until he finally began to understand. His love had always bore the heavy price of sacrifice, since he’d never allowed himself the freedom to express it or accept Momiji’s love in return. The pain of that sacrifice had become complexly intertwined with his feelings, and the heavy mantle woven from their union had been the only concept of what love was supposed to mean. But now, lying here; every dream and waking desire realized, the restrictive layers that had once strangled and confined the real fulfillment and joy of what true love could mean began to unravel, and the simpler truth emerged, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. It unfurled inside him, triggering an emotion so pure that he felt the ridiculously overwhelming urge to cry. It was such a strong impulse, and he needed to find a release for it before it exploded into pent up tears. Words were his only weapon against the onslaught that threatened him, but would they be enough?

Suddenly shaking with emotion, Kusanagi tightened his arms around Momiji, until her face was pressed into the hollow of his neck. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth, his voice breaking in a desperate attempt to remain in control. "I love you, Momiji."

It didn’t even begin to describe the magnitude of what he felt, of what he wanted to tell her, and yet she seemed to understand.

Burrowing deeper into him, her hand fluttered up to his chin, moving across his jaw in a comforting gesture, she whispered, "Say it again."

Drawing in a deep breath, he repeated with more strength this time, "I love you."

"Good morning, Princess," she heard Kusanagi drawl from the kitchen door.

She turned her head to give him a smile, watching him saunter across the kitchen in her direction. Six thirty in the morning and he looked as handsome as ever in his faded jeans and black t-shirt. Why couldn’t she look like that in the mornings? she wondered plaintively, feeling extremely rumpled. Noa had woken her up for the fourth time at around a quarter to six, hungry again and she hadn’t even stopped to brush her hair before throwing on a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, trying to hurry before his crying woke Kusanagi up as well.

"Did Noa wake you?" she asked, as he came to a stop beside her, looking down at her.

"No," he told her, a twinkle in his eyes, "you did."

"Me?" Momiji started.

"Yes," he replied, his lips twitching. He leaned down until he was inches from her face and then said, "you didn’t really think I was going to sleep after you were gone did you?"

"Well, I –" Momiji stuttered, feeling her face brighten.

"I mean you hogged the bed all night long and once you left, I just didn’t know what to do with all that space!" he grinned, planting a quick kiss on her lips before straightening up and moving over to the stove to get a cup of tea.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji exclaimed, her eyes following him. "That’s not true!"

"Careful, Princess, or you’ll wake the baby," he remarked, coming to sit down at the table next to her.

He took a sip of his tea, his eyes sliding over her. She looked tired, but she seemed happy, he thought, noting the content look on her pretty face. "How are you feeling this morning, Momiji?" he wanted to know. "Are you in any pain?"

"Not at all," she smiled, "I haven’t had a chance to change my bandages yet, but it feels much better than it did yesterday."

"Hmm, that’s good," he said slowly, "but that’s not what I was really asking about."

"It’s not?" she asked, surprised.

"No. It’s not." He shot her a meaningful look but it was lost on her and he could see that he was going to have to explain it. Taking a deep breath, he said as casually as he could, "I am talking about last night. You were in a lot of pain, and I - was not as gentle as I might have been. There was some blood on the sheets this morning, and I was worried that I was too rough."

"I’m fine." Momiji gave him a small smile, touched by his concern. "And you were wonderful," she assured him shyly, "I can hardly wait for my next lesson."

Kusanagi’s smile was tinged with relief.

"I don’t think you need any extra lessons," he remarked lightly. "In fact, I’m beginning to wonder just who was teaching whom last night."

Momiji laughed a little but stopped when the expression on Kusanagi’s face changed, becoming taught and alert. He whipped to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards and looked towards the window.

"What is it?" Momiji asked, fear clutching at her throat.

"We’re being spied on," he told her in a low voice, moving to look out through the windowpane. He scanned the backyard and saw it then, and his eyes narrowed. "Aragami," he hissed.

Momiji climbed to her feet and started towards him, but he waved his arm at her, telling her to stay back. Darting to the door, he looked back over his shoulder at her, his eyes hard with anger. "This one is on the run. More than likely it was sent to find Noa and then report back to whoever sent it," he concluded. "Call Kunikida," he ordered her, "he’ll get someone from the Self - Defense Force out here to protect you until I get back."

"Where are you going?" Momiji called after him as he went through the door.