𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐕 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

TOMITA YASHIRO TURNED AROUND, sheets rustling at the sudden movement as he settled on top of the covers. The man paused, admiring the woman currently lying beside him, her naked body warm to the touch. Kinzoku Mikazuki was lying on her side, face turned to the wall while the white sheets covered her lower back and below, her grey curls a tangled mess after a night filled with passion and heavy sweat.

The lawyer smiled, watching as the sorceress fidgeted in her sleep before settling back into slumber, chest rising with each breath. Their reunion had been short-lived, after almost an entire week of not seeing each other, Yashiro had been more than pleased to indulge in his more carnal desires, not that Mikazuki minded the attention.

Work had been stressful for her – between the constant missions and the upcoming birthday party looming over her like Damocles' sword, the sorceress had too many things in her mind. Her relationship with Yashiro was still new, they had both been clear about their intentions from the start, but ever since their latest conversation, it seemed there was something more to their little escapades.

Careful not to wake her, the man pressed his finger against her soft skin, caressing her back and trailing her spine. He traced the marks of her tattoo, the pad of his finger following the inked lines until they reached the edge of the quote. Mikazuki had been tight-lipped about this one, but Yashiro was fluent enough in Spanish to be able to read the words just as easily as he would have in Japanese.

He wondered, sometimes. About this woman, with these beautiful golden eyes and the weight of the world hiding in her gaze. He wondered about the quote, too. Revenge seemed like a journey of loneliness, and maybe that's why the Kinzoku had rejected his feelings in the first place. Maybe she didn't think she deserved him, or maybe she just thought there wasn't a future in which she walked out of her pending business with all the pieces of her heart still intact.

At almost twenty-seven years old, Tomita Yashiro had slept with plenty of women – but none of them quite like Mikazuki. The sorceress was daring, unafraid to speak about what she wanted, always making it clear that her pleasure was just as important as his while also ensuring he too was enjoying himself. Yashiro relished in it; being manhandled by the woman was like getting punished by the gods while also being worshipped.

His fingers halted, feeling the rough skin of one of the many scars that painted her body like a torn canvas.

He had never asked, and although the scars did make him pause the first time she undressed in front of him, when her red dress slipped from her body and pooled the ground, exposing her perfect figure, it didn't take long for Yashiro to forget all about them. What were her scars, if not a signed that she had lived? And just like the rest of her, Yashiro drank it all in.

Tomita was surprised the first time his finger grazed over the sensitive skin and he was met with no reaction, no gasp or pained wince, just a blank stare. He was so entranced he even forgot de apologise, his finger still scraping at the small scar around her thigh.

Mikazuki didn't seem to mind the touch, dipping her head back whenever he ran his hands through the twisted skin of her left leg. The only scar that still seemed to bother the sorceress was the one cutting through her chest, a fine line dipping low between her breasts until it disappeared against the taut skin of her stomach. And then there was the one on her lower abdomen, a ragged line which, although faded, he knew hurt for an entirely different reason.

Mikazuki hadn't brought up her children since the last time, the only proof that the conversation even happened in the first place being the tattoo of the intertwined flowers inked on the skin of her left thigh, right over the edge of the scar that wrapped around her leg.

The sorceress stirred, blinking slowly before she turned around to face the man, a small smile playing on her lips as a wild lock of grey hair covered her view. Yashiro's fingers were still drawing circles across her back, the slow movement so enticing she leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed at the delicate touch. Last night's events started trickling in slowly; the text she had sent flashing in her mind, Yashiro's quick reply a godsend.