Do Me A Wrong

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Even as she was about to summon an attendant to track down Ichigo, she felt the familiar hum of demonic power. Even carefully wrapped up and hidden away, she could easily feel the swell of the tide in the ambient energy of the world. She idly wondered if the boy even realized the sheer affect his presence had on the world around him. The darkness in him swelled like a black hole, threatening to devour all in its path.

And such was a creature she found herself bound to. From what she knew, Ichigo had only been introduced to the supernatural world for a little over three weeks. In that time, he had barely skimmed the surface of the terribleness that lurked within him.

As he grew more comfortable with his station, would the monstrous presence within have a greater hold on his behaviour? Would she find a tyrant in her young husband in the months to come?

Lost in her worries, Yasaka nearly jumped as a door to the left of her slid open, exactly opposite of where she had entered. Another servant stood, holding the door open; because of her technical position as a priestess, all the servants, save for the guards, were female.

In he walked; and so wonderfully did he blast aside every single one of her worries with such a simple action.

'That's just unfair!' She bemoaned within the confines of her mind as she struggled to keep her regal demeanour and tight smile. She almost gasped in embarrassment when she realized that her tongue had darted out and licked her upper lip.

Her staff had provided Ichigo with a forest green yukata, one that was slightly large for him, allowing a decent viewing of a light tan over his even skin. The worst part was that his hair was still damp from the bath, giving his orange strands a wild appeal. Her sharp eyes caught a single droplet of water and she followed it as it rolled down his neck and over to his…..she suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Over four hundred years of celibacy was broken for the simple fact that the Lady of the Sun had given her permission to continue her line. It was the burden placed upon all of her female ancestors for as long as they had served Amaterasu. No man could touch them unless they were given permission to bear a child. And once a female child had been born, the joys of fornication were over.

Yet for Yasaka, her first time was all the experience she ever had. It had hurt, it had been messy, it had been short and it had resulted in the greatest joy in her life. Kunou had been conceived and Yasaka was once more forbidden to share her bed with another.

So here stood her young husband of barely twenty years. One who was giving a look of blatant concern and, in all probability, held more sexual experience in the last year of his life that she had in her entire four hundred plus years' of existence. Despite all this, only a single, absent thought occurred to her.

'I think I have a collar bone fetish.'

Yasaka found herself walking through the palace gardens, her hands folded within the sleeves of her haori. Ichigo himself was trailing slightly behind in a respectable distance. The silence between them was quite deafening.

She had decided on a rather informal method of how to spend the meeting between the two. She would take care of official matters first before moving on to the more personal topic.

They had concluded breakfast quickly and…rather awkwardly. She had had a miserable time meeting his gaze, unwavering and unflinching that it was. And, to her infinite shame, her eyes kept wandering to just below his jaw line, to his tantalizing…she subtly pinched herself within her sleeves.

Though painfully delicate and troublesome, their shared meals had allowed her gleam some insight to the young devil's personality. He had sat with all the tact, of a visiting dignitary, though his shifting in his seat told her that he was either uncomfortable with the role or unused to it. Perhaps both.

His kept his face impassive for most of the meal and through what little petty small talk they made. What little he had shown of his facial expressions had ranged from a slight frown to scowling. From what she could tell, any form of mirth or amusement came in the change of his eyes. His brown orbs would change coloration just slightly in correlation to his mood.

He was also fond of children; at least it was what he tried to portray himself as. One of the first things he had said to her was an enquiry as to Kunou's wellbeing. She had made a small remark that she had left for her morning education. Years of being a single mother in a hefty position of power had left her somewhat paranoid in regards to her daughter's safety.

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