“We can't just call him Goku when he looks like this,” Jinako says, emphatically, “Besides, he's more like Gohan, anyway. And he's way better at acting like a dad than Goku is!”
Karna's face turns as red as his hair, and his eyes shut tightly.
“Okay,” Ritsuka claps her hands together, then points both at Jinako, “Then what about Super Saiyan Karna?”
“That's such a mouthful!” Jinako shakes her head, “If we're going that route, then why not just call him Super Karna? I mean…he's Karna, and he's Super, so…” she shrugs, “Super Karna.”
Karna glances down to meet Ritsuka's eye, “I have to admit, I like how that sounds.”
Ritsuka shrugs, “Super Karna it is.”
“Ehehe~! I'm glad we got that settled, then—oh!” Jinako snaps her fingers, “I almost forgot why I was looking for you in the first place,” she leans down and picks up a bottle of soda she'd put on the floor during their extended conversation, and holds it out to Karna as she walks up to him, “I can't open this.”
Ritsuka snorts. Karna stares down at the bottle.
“You are a Servant and host to Ganesha. This is something that you should be more than capable of doing on your own.”
“Aw, c'mon!” Jinako whines, “Just open it for me, will you?!”
“Here, I'm wearing gloves, let me give it a shot,” Ritsuka says, “The extra friction could help.”
Jinako shrugs and hands off the bottle to Ritsuka, who grunts as she starts to struggle with it. She stops, briefly, and looks at Jinako with her eyebrows furrowed.
“Also, your Strength is on par with his? If you couldn't get it open, then I don't know what you thought he would've been able to do.”
Jinako blinks, and then her eyes go wide and sparkling.
“Woah! I'm an SSR and I have Rank: B Strength?” she crosses her arms and wears a smug expression on her face as she regards Karna, “Hear that, Karna-san? I'm as strong as you are! And I'm more durable, too!” she pats her stomach, “Your shiny God armor has nothin' on this!”
“Impressive. I hadn't realized that you eclipsed me in Endurance,” Karna nods respectfully, “You are more suited to the front line than I am, then. I'll be counting on your protection in the coming battles.”
Jinako makes a dying, wheezing sound.
“W–Well, I mean, uh, you—you still have more, uh, more experience in battle than I do, so I'm just, you know, kind of just fumbling around not knowing what I'm doing when I'm out there, you know?” she stumbles over her words as she tries to set a world record in backtracking, “I–It would be for the best if I stood at the back, where Master is, to, uh…protect her!”
Before Karna can respond, there's a hiss of released carbonation, and Ritsuka's eyes light up.
“Hey, I got it! Looks like I'm stronger than both of you, and I'm not even a Servant.”
Jinako takes the now opened bottle of soda that's handed out to her, grumbling a little bit.
“Don't get ahead of yourself. But thanks.”
She gives the two of them a lazy little wave before walking off, and when she's finally out of sight, Ritsuka reaches for Karna's hand, and faces him with curiosity written all over her features.
“Well, “Super Karna”, how do you feel about your new look?”
He glances down at his left hand, Brahmastra permanently etched into his palm, and he flexes his fingers before meeting her eye.
“It's…different. You said this was purely cosmetic in nature?”
“That's what Da Vinci told me. I dunno why your hand looks…like that, but, well, I think it looks cool—and so does Da Vinci, that's why she made it in the first place,” the curiosity on her face shifts to concern, “You're not feeling weird or anything, are you?”
“I can't really say…” he murmurs, brow furrowing, “There's this strange sensation in the back of my mind…it's a little difficult to explain. I'm having trouble understanding it, but it isn't causing me any pain.”
Ritsuka hums, and squeezes his hand, “Well, you've been wearing it for a couple of hours, maybe that's the problem? Either way, let's go to Da Vinci's workshop and let her know you're feeling weird. It probably isn't a good idea to just let this sit, especially since, as far as I know, other Servants she's done this for haven't felt the way you have.”
“I agree. Hopefully it's nothing to be concerned about.”
He links their fingers together and squeezes her hand. Ritsuka smiles a little, and affectionately bumps her shoulder against his.
They pass by a few Servants on their way to Da Vinci's workshop, and though he finds himself unperturbed at the excitable high-five Suzuka gives as a greeting to their Master, as well as the fist bump that Mordred and Ritsuka—who gives a strained smile as she recoils in pain afterward—share, the next Servant they pass by has him reacting much differently.
“Hey, good to see you, Master,” Achilles says with an easy grin, and he ruffles her hair as they pass each other, “Don't work yourself too hard!”
“Stop messing up my hair!”
She gripes and grumbles under her breath, and smooths out her hair as they keep walking. Karna feels a gnawing irritation twisting his stomach into knots at the fact that Achilles had touched her, and he tightens his grip on her hand—before he realizes that his reaction is asinine, and that Achilles has always greeted her in a playful, teasing manner, and it has meant just that. Plus, Achilles has been summoned for nearly as long as he has, and any Servant with half a brain knows that his interest extends only to Atalante.
But recognizing the absurdity of how he feels does not make the feeling itself go away.
Sigurd greets their Master with a small nod and warm smile, and Ritsuka beams at him in return. He can feel how tense his muscles become, and the twisting in his stomach returns with a vengeance, and it takes him even longer to realize that his reaction is even more overblown than it had been with Achilles. Sigurd had not even touched her, just smiled at her with all the affection one would give to another member of their family, and even disregarding that, Sigurd is married—utterly, wholeheartedly devoted to Brynhild, surviving repeated attacks to his life out of love for her.
This isn't normal.
“Oh—.” Ritsuka peeks in to Da Vinci's workshop as they finally make their way there, and it's a mess of miscellaneous mechanical nuts and bolts, but devoid of Da Vinci herself, “She's not here. I wonder if she's working with Sion on something…?”
Both look up as they see Napoléon approach with a boisterous smile and a flirtatious wink.
“The one and only, Maître!”
He bows respectfully but with a theatrical flair, then reaches for her free hand, briefly pressing his lips to her knuckles. Ritsuka giggles a little, and pulls her hand back, and both she and Napoléon are unaware of how the tension in Karna's body skyrockets.
“Are you looking for Da Vinci, too?”
“Not quite, I simply happened by, and fortuitously came across my lovely Maître. You need to see mademoiselle Da Vinci?”
“I do, actually. Do you know where she is? She usually stays in her workshop during all hours of the day, but—.”
Ritsuka cuts herself off as she feels Karna's arm wrap around her, fingers grasping, pressing in hard on her waist as he pointedly tugs her closer to him. Her face reddens, and she glances up at him with confusion and embarrassment. By contrast, Karna's gaze is set squarely on Napoléon, two-toned eyes narrowed and frigid as they glare his way.
His response is to pull her in even closer. Napoléon, for his part, shows no offense at the sudden hostility, and the corners of his lips curl up into an amused smile.
“Oh? It seems my presence has disturbed your paramour. My apologies for causing you such distress. I have no desire to share blows with such a powerful Servant, so I will bid the two of you farewell. Do enjoy the rest of your day, Maître.”
Karna's eyes stay sharp as he watches Napoléon turn and leave. Once he's passed out of sight, he finally allows himself to relax, just a little.
Ritsuka's soft, concerned voice snaps him out of his furious reverie, and he blinks several times as if clearing a fog from his vision. He looks down at her, meeting her gaze, and her eyes hold just as much worry as her voice.
“Are you okay?”
“I—.” Karna's hand drops from her waist, “What…”
She takes his hand in hers, and loosely links their fingers together.
“I think we need to find Da Vinci as soon as possible. Something doesn't seem right with you…”
Napoléon has greeted her with a kiss to her knuckles dozens if not hundreds of times by now, and it's never bothered him in the slightest, before. But the image of him touching her, of him kissing her, is enough to make his muscles go tense with rage all over again. The idea of her ever possibly wanting to be with somebody else along with himself is a thought that's never disturbed him, before—if it's something that would make her happy, he would support it without question—but now, thinking of somebody else just looking at her for too long is enough to make him clench his jaw in a tranquil fury.
She is his.
And that thought alone is so wrong that it makes him seize in panic.
His hand jerks away from hers as he takes a step back. There is visible hurt in her eyes, and it's painful, to see her that way, but she isn't safe with him like this. Whatever is happening with him, he knows without a doubt that he should not be around her right now.
“Don't come near me,” he takes another step back, and the strange sensation in the back of his mind begins to spread over his sober thoughts, covering them in a thick, possessive layer, “Ritsuka, stay away from me.”
It's the last thing he gets out before he takes off, darting down the halls to get as far away from her as possible.
Ritsuka reaches out toward his retreating form and her boots screech against the laminated floor in a noisy squeak as she instantly starts to chase after him.
Even though he's not making as great of a use of his Agility that he could be, her effort is still in vain. She's no match for any Servant, in spite of just how hard she tries to catch up to him, and as she turns into the hallway where their shared room is, she gets one last glimpse of his heel as he steps into it. Ritsuka bolts up to it, rapidly slamming her palm on the button that opens the door, but it refuses to budge, even as she repeatedly punches in the code that regularly unlocks it. After trying a few more times trying to, futilely, get it to open, it sinks in that he set it to lock on maximum security.
She pounds on the door, and her voice comes out more concerned than frustrated, “Karna, open the door! What's going on?!”
All she gets in return is silence. Ritsuka leans her forehead against the door and shuts her eyes, releasing one long, exhausted sigh. The only way to get her door to open now is to put in the override code that Sion gave her.
…And she…can't remember what it is…
She looks down the hall. The Command Room is a long trek away.
Ritsuka turns, rubbing her eyes with the brunt of her palms, before her arms drop to her sides in a limp heap.
“Are you sure that this is a good idea?”
Sion asks the question with a frown, and the answer is a hearty “not really”, but Ritsuka doesn't have a whole lot of options going for her right now.
“I need to know what's making him act like this. Worst case scenario, I'll use my Command Spells.”
She gets an unsure look in response, but Sion turns, and types for a few seconds into the large console in front of her. After clicking an “accept” command, she turns back to face Ritsuka.
“Okay, your door is unlocked. Please be careful.”
“Thanks, Sion,” Ritsuka wrings her hands together, “Uh…what's the override code to my door, again…?”
“It was 79281, but I suppose that may have been a bit of an odd number to try and memorize. Give me a moment, and I will change it to something easier to remember.”
She taps a few things in on a touch screen, then turns to face Ritsuka again.
“There. Your override code is now 69069.”
“Nice,” Ritsuka responds, automatically.
“I thought it was something that you would appreciate.”
Her nerves begin to fray as she makes her way back to her room, and she spends the long walk back trying to figure out an approach to the situation. Given how adamant he'd been in getting away from her, he may just force her back outside, but if she has to Command Spell her way into making him accept her help, then that's what she'll do. Whatever is wrong with him, she's willing to do just about anything to fix it.
She finally makes it to her door, and she stands motionless. Slowly, she brings her hand up to linger over the button that will open her door, but she doesn't press it, hesitating. With a single, deep breath, she steels herself.
Ritsuka taps the button, and the door opens. She walks in, and it closes behind her.
Karna stands—hovers—near their shared bed, and with just that one small detail, she immediately takes up a defensive position. Even if he hadn't practically sprinted away from her to ostensibly keep her safe from whatever, this is enough to tell her that there's something wildly off with him. He only ever uses his flight for combat, seeing it wasteful and unnecessary otherwise, and the only reason he would drop his pragmatism is if she asked him to use it, which she rarely has a (good) reason to do.
He glances over his shoulder as he hears the door open and close behind him, and as he sees her, he fully turns around. His hair moves on its own, idly flickering, unruly locks of red looking more like a mass of flames than an actual head of hair. As his eyes meet hers, there is a sharpness to them that she's unused to seeing; his stare is normally piercing and intense, but his features soften considerably whenever it's just the two of them. Now, though, he regards her with the same gaze she'd seen when she first summoned him, but there's something else beyond the intensity, something that she can't quite put her finger on, as he begins to approach her.
His hair crackles back and forth like an open campfire, swaying slightly from the motion of him coming closer, bangs brushing over his eyes. Ritsuka swallows, and her nerves buzz when he's finally in front of her.
She's cut off as he wraps his left arm around her waist, and he guides her into him, embracing her tenderly.
Ritsuka blinks, and is now even more confused at what's going on. However, this is, undoubtedly, something he would do. So even though she's still hesitant and on edge, she—carefully—brings her arms up, and returns the gesture.
“I am glad to see you once more.”
He murmurs the words as he pulls back, and what the hell does that even mean.
She's cut off again, this time as his thumb and index finger on his right hand grip her chin, keeping her head in place as he presses his lips to hers. He is…assertive, more so than he ever is, slow and measured, but sure in what he's doing, as he molds his lips against hers. His tongue prods her lips apart, and she whimpers, head caught in a daze from everything that's happening.
Her lower lip slips out from between his teeth as he draws away from her, giving her just enough time to quietly gasp in a few breaths of air before he dives back in again. Karna kisses her like he's hungry for her, and to the best of her ability, she kisses back, but he easily, almost effortlessly, dominates her, fingers leaving her chin so he can tangle them through her orange hair and tilt her head back for a more favorable angle. He is not brutal, or punishing—far from it—but he wordlessly takes the lead each time their lips touch. Every move he makes is thorough, and dripping with desire. His tongue wraps around hers; she moans quietly, and it only spurs him further on.
She's out of breath when the kiss breaks again, and as he starts to move towards her lips once more, Ritsuka turns her head away from him before he gets the chance.
“Wait—I, I don't…” he is visibly displeased as she discourages him from kissing her again, but he can deal with it for a few seconds, she wants answers, “Why—What's going on? You ran away from me and now you're—you're acting like it didn't even happen.”
“Confusion and fear of the unknown. A human response. But that part of me has been quelled.”
His arm holds her more firmly, and her breath hitches as he effortlessly lifts her up so she is floating with him.
“Seeing the attention you received from the other male Servants displeased me. It brought forth a certain desire,” his hand slips out of her hair, moving to cup her jaw, and his thumb traces against her reddened lower lip, “I wish to partake in the flesh of my consort. I will claim what is rightfully mine.”
Ritsuka just about chokes.
“I believe it is obvious to state that we have grown past the relationship of Master and Servant. You have caught more than just the attention of a Demigod,” his eyes soften just the smallest amount as amusement dances in them, the edge of his lips quirking up into a slight smirk, “Or do you deny it?”
“I—I just, it's not…I haven't…thought about it that way…” she says, voice soft and shy, and thinks to herself, 'And if he was acting normal, he'd probably say it was the other way around…'
“The Son of the Sun God has marked you as his own. It is an honor.”
He touches his lips to hers in a ghost of a kiss, enough to leave her wanting.
“And so long as it burns, I shall want none other than you,” he murmurs, and his nose brushes against hers, “…Offer yourself to me, my love.”
Well, whatever is happening with him, she's into it.
Her arms wrap around his neck in a nonverbal affirmation, and his lips slot against hers again. His messy hair brushes against her cheek, still moving on its own like a wisping flame, and the soles of her feet gently touch the floor as he lowers her back to the ground. The index finger on his left hand trails delicately up her spine, and Ritsuka shudders, melting into him.
“As I anticipated. You truly do not disappoint,” he says, voice low and pleased when he pulls back from the kiss, and the smirk on his lips grows as his eyes light up in delight, “Now, I would have you pleasure me. Show me the extent of your reverence,” his hand leaves her hair, two fingertips settling under her chin to tilt her head up and lock her eyes with his, “After all, it is only natural that human would kneel before a God.”
He returns to her bed, feet coming to rest on the floor, before he sits on it like it's a throne. His legs spread, and he props his elbow up on his thigh and rests his chin on his knuckles as he looks at her expectantly, almost coy.
She makes herself take a step, and slowly, she approaches him. Having him be this forward is just so…incredibly bizarre. She usually has to just about bully him into letting her do this for him, needing to reassure him several times that, yes, this is, in fact, not only something she wants to do, but something that she enjoys doing—and even when he finally allows himself the luxury, he has a hard time looking at her when she does it because of how much it flusters him.
But, as she settles on her knees in-between his legs, he exudes nothing but confidence, and she's the one who's beginning to feel flustered.
She starts to remove her gloves, and his last bit of armor comes off with a gleam; this is far from the first time she's done this, but it's the first time she actually feels a little nervous.
Both of her hands come up, fingers gently curling around the base, as she tentatively leans forward and wraps her lips around the tip, sucking lightly and flicking her tongue against the slit. Liquid is already beginning to bead out, and she moans softly, takes a little more of him into her mouth. A pleased hum reverberates through his whole body; Ritsuka feels as he slides out her hair tie and lets it drop to the ground. He tucks a few orange locks behind her ears, and as the weight of his palm sets on top of her head, her eyes flutter shut as his fingers card through her hair in silent approval.
“Very good,” he purrs. Ritsuka's eyes shut tighter, and she stifles a whimper, because it's way more arousing than it should be to hear him talk like that.
She steadies him with her hands, head slightly tilting and hair falling towards her left shoulder as she sucks gently near the root, running her tongue up and following a vein, lips placed on him and sucking on another spot as it ends. Her lips go further up, kissing until she reaches the crown, and Ritsuka delivers a few gentle, teasing licks beneath it, enough that she feels him twitch a little in her hands. She traces along the underside before licking up to the tip once more and kissing it, lapping at it, catching his taste with long strokes of her tongue.
More than he's ever been, Karna is restrained and muted in his reactions, barely doing anything other than idly toying with her hair as he stares down at her with his full attention. One of her hands comes off of him, and she delicately traces her fingers up the length of his shaft in a slow, unhurried, line. When her fingertips reach just below the head, she wraps her hand back around him and starts to stroke him; just slightly, he tightens his grip on her hair as she sucks on the tip again, but beyond that, all she hears is quiet breathing as his gaze stays permanently fixed to her.
Ritsuka feels a stray hair fluttering against her nose. Her hand leaves him to tuck it behind her ear, and she silently fills her lungs with air before she further parts her lips, both of her hands wrapped around the base and holding him steady. Gradually, she goes down, takes the head fully within her mouth, then flattens her tongue, relaxes her jaw, and keeps going. As he starts to touch the back of her throat, Karna sucks in a long, sharp, breath, and lovingly cards his fingers through her hair once more.
Her hands leave him one last time, a slight tremor to them as they go down, resting flat on the floor to better balance herself, as she takes the last of his length down her throat. Karna releases a contented moan.
“Sublime,” he praises her in a single, soft breath. It ignites something hot within her, shoots a bolt of pleasure up right from the base of her spine.
She's lightheaded when she finally starts to draw away, but she doesn't pull all the way off. He stays within her mouth as she breathes in through her nose, and after getting as much air as she needs, she starts up again.
It takes very little time for her to build up to a steady rhythm, swallowing him to the back of her throat and quietly sucking in air before she does it again, and again. His hand is a solid presence on her head, but he doesn't attempt to take control of the pace away from her, more than content to simply keep her hair tangled around his fingers as she pleasures him. The grip he has on it tightens, though, as her throat further relaxes; it's not enough to be painful, but it's enough that his nails scrape against her scalp, and it's so, so good, makes the skin on the back of her neck prickle up and tingle from just how good it is.
Ritsuka moans around him from the feel of it, and his eyes momentarily shut as he lets out a low groan. It's the strongest response she's managed to get out of him so far.
“You are performing wonderfully,” his voice is slightly breathy, yet another thing she allows herself to take pride in, “I am close. Do not stop.”
His nails rake against her scalp, a little more firmly than last time, and in combination with his blunt praise, it has her squeezing her eyes shut and whining out in need. He exhales hard in response, and threads his fingers into her hair even more, holding on to where it veers in to painful, but the synergy of it all just spurs her on further. A lock of her hair falls into her face and she tucks it back without faltering.
She takes him down the back of her throat again, and as she pulls back, she does so with deliberate slowness, letting her tongue drag along the underside of his length. As she moves away, until just the head remains in her mouth, she licks hard against the tip, and it's enough to finally send him over the edge.
The hand resting on her head keeps her held in place as his hips twitch, throbbing as he breathes out hard and empties himself in the warmth of her mouth. His come spills onto her tongue, and his sweet taste is the same as always when she swallows. Even as his hips still, she continues to lick up the excess with little flicks of her tongue.
Unsurprisingly, she's out of breath when she finally pulls back for good. A string of saliva still connects her to him, but she licks her swollen lips and breaks it. All she can hear is the sound of her panting.
His fingers unwind from her hair, leaving it looking very much like she just had sex, as he moves down to trace around the shell of her ear before he sweeps her bangs out of her eyes.
“Open your eyes and look upon me.”
Though dazed, she does as commanded, and her lashes brush against her cheek as her eyelids flutter and blink open. Two fingertips settle beneath her chin and tilt her head up once more. His eyes are still sharp and cutting, but his lips quirk up in a mild, pleased smile.
“Submission suits you well,” his whole hand grips her chin now, as his thumb runs along her reddened bottom lip, “I could not have asked for a better consort.”
Ritsuka glances off to the side in embarrassment. She's not going to get used to him calling her that no matter how many times it happens.
“Now, rid yourself of your clothes. I wish to take in your form.”
He…usually does this part.
It's just something he does, without her even having to ask or say anything, whenever they have sex. Almost always, he's the one who undresses her, little by little shedding her of her clothes, kissing lovingly against every bit of skin he slowly reveals, no matter how many times he's already seen her body. It's always been a little embarrassing, with just how dedicated and reverent he gets, but now, him not doing it is putting her ill at ease.
His hand drops from her chin, and he holds it out in a gesture meant to help her to her feet. Ritsuka takes it graciously, but as she stands in front of him, when she meets his eye, the knowledge that he's very much more God than human right now comes crashing back to the forefront of her mind.
And her nerves start fraying all over again.
The look he's giving her is once again expectant—exuding authority and entitlement, not leaving room for any questions to be asked. He is not asking that she strip down, he is demanding it. And with how much more severe and incisive his eyes are, if his humanity really has been quelled, then—.
She wonders if she even has a choice at all.
What will he do to “claim what is rightfully his”?
This had all been easy to put to the side until now, given how it had knocked her completely off-kilter to have him be so forward about wanting his dick sucked for the first time ever, and once he'd started praising her, everything else had become irrelevant background noise. But the implications of what a God might do to somebody who rescinds their bodily offering are starting to hit her all at once.
Ritsuka averts her eyes away from him, and the knots forming in her stomach start to ease up. The prospect feels a little less intimidating now that she's not looking him in the eye.
Her boots come off first, then her socks, then the harness and belt. Ritsuka keeps her head down as she shrugs her arms out of her jacket, but she can feel his gaze on her, his intensity growing the more clothes she removes. Her thumbs hook into the waistband of her skirt as she shimmies out of it, and when she grasps the hem of her tank top, her hands are starting to tremble. She lifts her shirt up and over her head, ignoring her shaking fingers.
All she's left in is her black bra and underwear. She chances a look up at him, and the colors of his two-toned eyes are hot, but his stare is so cold that it unnerves her. Inviting warmth is what she's used to with him, raw tenderness wrapped in awkwardly expressed but earnest desire.
His Divinity has only ever manifested as pure power, with the quirks of Godhood replaced with a completely different type of social ineptitude, but that's just a byproduct of the environment he grew up in, one that she's progressively been managing to help him work through, and his unintentional insults have been a hell of a lot easier to deal with than Ishtar's capricious whims or Artemis'…everything. Having the side of him that's part-God be amplified this much, even if he still holds affection for her, is…
“You are hesitating.”
Ritsuka blinks, snapped out of her thoughts by his voice, and she looks at him again. He doesn't seem angry, or upset, and the coldness in his eyes abates as they narrow slightly, his head tilting a little in curiosity.
“Something is troubling you.”
His eyes pierce through her. Ritsuka nervously wraps her arms around herself and glances down at the ground.
“What if I…change my mind?” she asks quietly, “…what if I don't want to do this anymore?”
He's silent. Ritsuka swallows hard.
…And then, out of her peripheral vision, she sees a gleam.
“Then I will stop and wait until you are ready again.”
His hand reaches towards her, gingerly coaxing her to unwrap her left arm from around herself. She's still on edge, but she allows him to do so, and his hand takes hers.
“Meet my eye,” he says, and his voice is gentler, “And tell me what has made you so unsettled.”
She takes a moment to collect herself, and brings her eyes up to meet his. He's put his armor back on.
“…I'm not used to you…acting like this. It's…”
Karna stands up from the bed, hovers in front of her, and he drops her hand to caress the left side of her face.
“Does it frighten you?” he asks softly.
Her eyes go downcast. Slowly, he wraps his left arm around her waist again, drawing her close to his body for another tender embrace, as his feet come to rest on the ground. He dips his head down, and her skin tingles as he places a small kiss at the base of her neck.
“I apologize, my love,” he murmurs, and his fingers touch against her shoulder, tracing a slow line down her arm until he reaches her hand, and their fingers lace together, “It was not my intention. Perhaps I jumped too quickly into my desires when you offered yourself to me,” she can feel his smile against her skin, “But it has been difficult to temper my want for you.”
Karna's lips press up her neck in a series of languid kisses. He's so careful, restrained in every move he makes, but purposeful in what he does. She shudders as he reaches a patch of skin just below her jaw, and he stops where he is, momentarily pausing, before he starts to suck. He draws out a breathy whimper from her with just how meticulously he works his lips and tongue, but he is no less gentle or soothing as he marks her skin. Once satisfied, he leaves a lingering kiss against the reddened spot, and touches his forehead to hers.
“You are special to me in ways I will never be able to articulate,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering closed; Ritsuka places her right hand against his cheek, and he tilts his head to kiss the center of her palm, “I know that this feeling is irrational and base. It is unbefitting of me. But it will not stop aching until I satisfy it.”
He leans in, and gently brushes his lips against hers.
“Submit yourself to me,” he whispers, then kisses her again, “And I will show you the pleasures of paying tribute to a God.”
The kiss deepens. Ritsuka whimpers as he teases her tongue with his.
“I wish to please you, to make you cry out for my touch, and my touch alone. Give yourself to me, in mind, body, and soul,” he squeezes her hand, and opens his eyes, “And I will do the same.”
His hand releases hers, fingers trailing up her skin, making it prickle in its path. He touches along the strap to her bra, following it down and around to the clasp. Karna meets her eye, waiting. Ritsuka gives him a tiny nod. It unhooks.
Karna takes a small step back from her. Both of his hands come up to ease the straps down and off her arms until it all falls to the floor in a heap.
“For I will take you not only as a God,” he holds her chin in his fingers, voice low and sensual, eyes half-lidded and brimming with desire, “But as a man.”
His armor comes off in another gleam as he kisses her, arm snaking around her waist to pull her close; his erection throbs as it presses into her, and he is hot, hotter than he's ever been before. Their mouths lock together and their moans intermingle, and Ritsuka pushes her body further towards him, entwines her arms tightly around his neck, and all but yanks him down to deepen the kiss, a blissful gasp slipping out of her as her breasts rub against his chest. His right hand dives into her hair, furiously tangling in the messy strands and tilting her head back. As she arches into him, he fits his arm more snugly into the deep curve her spine forms, hungrily capturing her lips all the while.
They are both breathing hard when they finally part. His hair wisps back and forth, dancing like a roaring fire.
“My love,” he starts, lust and affection interwoven in his stare, “…Grant the desire of this selfish God.”
Ritsuka's eyes crinkle in the corners. One of her hands slides out from around his neck, and she cups the side of his face. It slides down, down to his chest, and her gaze follows the path it takes. The tips of her fingers trace along the eye that now marks his skin, until she reaches his heart. Her palm presses against it, its beat strong and steady.
She says his name with sincere, heartfelt reverence, and a soft smile decorates her face as her eyes meet his.
“I submit myself to you.”
Karna freezes and seems to stop breathing entirely. Ritsuka's smile widens into a grin.
“Oh, you liked that, didn't y—.”
She's cut off, squeaking in surprise as Karna crushes his lips to hers. He hauls her up like she's made of air, right arm wrapped under and holding up both her thighs. The kiss breaks for a second as he deposits her on the bed, before he crawls on top of her and takes her lips in his again. Her hands roam his chest, lithe muscles flexing and growing taut beneath her palms and fingertips. When he pulls away, she whines in disappointment, but it melts into a moan as he quickly distracts her by mouthing at her neck.
His right hand splays against her stomach, then rotates, and dips beneath her panties. Ritsuka's breath hitches as he slides his middle finger along her core, almost infuriatingly nonchalant as he rubs up and down. His fingers gently pry her open so he can better sink his digit between her folds, and Ritsuka starts to squirm, whimpering, toes curling. Karna draws back from her neck, and his eyes burn with pride and delight as he looks down at her.
“You crave this,” he takes his hand away, sucking his middle finger into his mouth and tasting the obscene amount of fluids drenching it, “I would be a fool to leave you wanting for any longer.”
He just about tears her underwear off, haphazardly tossing it to the side in the general direction of her other discarded clothes, and she's left completely bare beneath him. His hand comes up to tenderly cup the side of her face. Ritsuka gazes up at him, meets his affectionate stare on reflex, smiling back as easy as she breathes, but it only lasts for a moment, and she's soon being rolled over onto her front. In response, she makes a confused noise at the abrupt, and, honestly, somewhat pointless, change in position.
“What's this about?”
“A proper offering requires correct positioning.”
Karna adjusts her until her head is bowed low into a pillow, back dipping into a deep curve, the lower half of her body propped up in a kneeling position. Ritsuka's eyes narrow skeptically. She turns her head and throws a look back at him just in time to see him wrap his fingers around her thighs and squeeze, openly leering at her as he spreads her legs further apart.
“I have a feeling you just want to look at my ass.”
“That is one of the benefits, yes.”
He then proceeds to take a few gratuitous handfuls of said ass, just because he can. Ritsuka rolls her eyes. At the very least, it doesn't hurt or feel too weird as his left palm presses against her, which is a pleasant surprise.
He at last ceases his groping, sliding his hands to rest upon her hips. Fingers curling around them, he holds onto her firmly, and lines himself up. Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushes inside of her, as if he's savoring the moment—relishing every inch that he buries within her.
Ritsuka keens, rapturous, delirious on pleasure as he sinks into her and spreads her open. It's so much more than she thought it would be. Her voice muffles, sharp whines softening as she buries her face further into her pillow, grasping onto it and raking her nails down the fabric. They've never done it like this before; he's always been candid about wanting to see her face, and she's been perfectly happy to acquiesce.
But, as he finally bottoms out, he is so, so deep, touching spots he never has before, and she shudders, contracts around him. Her head turns to the side, breathing out hard through reddened lips as she writhes against her sheets.
Though more visibly composed than she is, he is just barely holding himself together. His eyes have shut tight, and the fire that feathers out at the end of the black on his forearms flares with heightened intensity, loosely spiraling up his biceps as independent flames flicker and snap in the air around his head and body.
He pulls nearly all the way out, before gradually pushing back in again, and she is phenomenal. Ritsuka trembles, curls her toes hard and gasps out as he enters her, hot and slick, sucking him in, and his pelvis touches her—and now she's moaning and squeezing down on him, savoring him as he savored her. It takes everything he has to control himself, brow furrowed hard and jaw clenched in equal measure.
Karna wills himself to open his eyes. The image of her that he gazes down at makes things so much harder in every conceivable way.
Her head is bowed low in submission, hair cascading down past her shoulders and spilling out onto the pillow as her lower lip slips out from between her teeth, allowing a soft “oh” to release in a blissful sigh. She shudders, body open and willing, taking him perfectly, eagerly, as if he was made just for her, and her inner walls flutter as he shallowly rolls his hips. Her spine dips as she further presses herself against her sheets, causing her breasts to peek out from the sides. Karna rubs her hip with his right hand, then removes it, lets it slide down the smooth, steep curve of her back until he reaches between her shoulder blades.
The weight of his palm lets up, replaced with the tips of his index and middle fingers. In a slow, deliberate motion, Karna drags the pads of his fingers up the length of her spine, and Ritsuka arches into the bed even more, eyes screwing shut as she buries her face in her pillow again, but it does nothing to stifle her cry—strained, breathy, ecstatic.
The sound of his name is an aching, needy little mewl, and the flames on his body roar.
Ritsuka pants quietly through glossy, swollen lips, and turns her head enough to be able to look at him out of the corner of her eye. Her fingers flex against the pillow, gripping the fabric in desperation, and as she glances back at him, her eyes hold nothing but raw, unabashed want.
She is beautiful, and she is his.
And she has stayed in the proper position long enough.
He wraps his left arm around her front and hauls her up, sitting on the heels of his feet as her back presses against his chest. Ritsuka cries out, body trembling harder, her knees on either side of him, and fire spirals around her thighs to keep them spread. He shallowly thrusts into her, left arm looping around her waist and holding her steady, right hand grasping for her chin and turning her as much as he can to crush his lips to hers. Their noses bump together, the position somewhat awkward as their lips sloppily slide against each other, but it connects their mouths and that's all that matters.
Flames swell at the edge of his black skin on his left forearm. A long line of fire coils down the rest of the length of his arm, down to his fingertips, before it disconnects from his arm entirely to wrap around her waist, his back, then back around, entwining, circling their joined bodies and dancing in a swirl around the two of them. His right hand leaves her face, moving lower, touching the center of her chest as it continues southward, palm scorching as it presses into her skin, lips like an inferno as he puts them on her neck, but his warmth, his fire, is inviting, enticing, and as far away from painful as it possibly can be. Ritsuka reaches down, fingers on her right hand wrapping around his left wrist to better anchor herself to this moment—to him. Fire pulses at the edge of his forearm once more. It winds down around her own limb, and up to the crook of her elbow, as if to better connect them together.
His right hand stops its descent at her thigh, flames unraveling to make room for his hand. He digs his fingers into her skin, rolls his hips in another shallow motion, and breathes in sharply as he hears her desperate whine.
“You are mine.”
The words rumble low in his chest and vibrate throughout her whole body as he speaks them against her neck. He is hot enough that, as his fingers sink in to her thigh, his hand print is still seared into her skin when he removes it. It trails up, underneath their linked arms, to rest up at the top of her chest, fingertips just brushing against the hollow of her neck. She squeezes his left wrist, and the flame around her arm unfurls; Ritsuka rests her right hand on top of his, slides her fingers through the spaces, and his eyes gently shut.
“My Master, my love, my heart.”
He pulls his head back from her neck, and their lips meet in a tender kiss.
“Ritsuka…” he murmurs, and his eyes open to stare into hers, “Let me hear your devotion.”
She smiles, and holds his hand tight.
“I'll never want anyone else, Karna. Don't worry,” their noses bump together, “I'm yours.”
His two-toned eyes soften, becoming tender and filled to burst with affection. The look he's giving her is, finally, a familiar one.
“My consort,” he brushes his lips against hers, “My wife.”
It finally processes. Ritsuka's eyes grow enormous, flush surging and turning luminescent as she begins spluttering incoherently.
“ What do you mean, wife?!”
Karna crushes their mouths together and is keen to just let that sit, apparently, as he starts to move in earnest. His hips buck, and his tongue rubs against hers, and Ritsuka suddenly finds herself very, very distracted.
He is not so gentle, not so worshipful and thorough as he usually is, which only makes sense, Ritsuka thinks distantly, and as his hands wander all over her body, grasping, insatiable fingers sinking in and marking every inch of her skin they can, she becomes keenly aware that this is indeed a God taking what is his. With each thrust into her, he asserts his claim to her body, fire crackling in the air and caressing her with its soothing heat, acting as an extension of himself as he bucks up forcefully and sheathes himself entirely inside her—but even with his Divinity warping his thoughts, he is still Karna, and when an awkward angle makes her wince, he is quick to slow, delivering a stream of kisses to the base of her neck in apology as he reaches for her right hand and squeezes. Forgiveness is given instantaneously as she lolls her head to the side, offering him her neck. He attaches his lips in eager acceptance.
His hands finally settle, left on her thigh, greedily digging his fingers into her flesh, while his right grasps at her left breast, kneading with firm strokes, and her next exhale is a breathy moan she only barely manages to stifle by biting down on her lower lip. Behind her, his body stiffens, and the grip his fingers have on her left thigh further strengthens as his flames flicker and snap. He's displeased.
“Do not deny me the sound of your pleasure.”
Another low rumble in his chest reverberates through her as he speaks against her neck between kisses. Though his voice is a murmur, the words are an unquestionable demand. His fingers scrape, leaving long, red, claiming marks on her thigh, but the pressure soon abates, replaced with light, fleeting touches as his hand moves to her stomach.
“There are those here who desire you for themselves,” his hand slides lower, “Proudly let them know who you belong to.”
He plunges into her, driving in to the hilt, as the pads of his fingers press in and rub. The sound of his name fills the room with a rhapsodic cry, and his lips curve into a self-satisfied smile.
Ritsuka's hand shoots down, clutching his wrist for purchase as she grinds her hips to meet his momentum. His name leaves her with every other breath, her voice reverential and exhortatory as she moans “Karna” in a soft, sensuous gasp. It fuels his desire tenfold, makes his nostrils flare, and he breathes in hard. He buries his face in her neck and clasps her right hand tightly in his own, hips vigorously snapping into her, claiming her with all the authority a Divine being should have.
Whatever small shred of human restraint that ensnared him is gone. He's relentless in his pace, sliding out and slamming back into her, vocal in his pleasure, groaning long and low each time she clenches around him. A genuine attempt is made to try and form some sense of harmony with his fingers, but it's a lost cause as she enthusiastically meets his thrusts, hips rolling down, breath frantic and hot as he tears one moan after another after another from her. Fire surges on and around him; the lines on his body glow brightly, and he shoves every inch of himself into her desperate, wanting body.
It's so much. The heat of his body, the heat around her that matches the intensity of how ravenous he is, and as he drives himself to the hilt again, he hits a sensitive spot inside of her dead on as his fingers rub in hard. Ritsuka throws her head back with a cry and tightens like a vice around him, and he twitches, throbs inside of her. Energy crackles in the air; the hairs on her arms stand on end. The fire that floats behind him swells and grows until he is wreathed in ethereal, flaming wings.
Her hand trembles in his hold. Karna slots his fingers through the spaces of hers, and he speaks in a murmur against her neck.
“Do you give yourself to me?”
His fingers circle her hard, and she mewls.
The word is a strained whisper, but he hears it perfectly. As a reward, he kisses her neck lovingly, and she sobs out his name as he brings her to climax.
Karna grunts, holding her close to his body as he pushes in to the root, shallowly thrusting as he spills inside of her. The coils of fire around their limbs and bodies swell to a fever pitch, flicking and pulsing, burning in an erratic, ferocious dance.
He peppers her neck with tender kisses until his hips finally stop twitching. Gradually, the flames that surround them, hanging in the air and swirling around their limbs and bodies, disperse, simmering to a low burn before blowing out altogether. Ritsuka is boneless against him, and he is mindful as he lifts her up and off, gently laying her down. Her closed eyes flutter open as she feels her back touch the mattress, arms splaying out next to her. As her vision comes into focus, her gaze lands on his face.
Karna stays kneeling between her slightly bent legs, slow and purposeful as he scans up her body, kneading her hip with his right hand. Arrogant satisfaction shines in his eyes and widens his mouth into a smirk as he takes in how ravished she is.
“Beautiful,” his voice drips with pride, and Ritsuka sucks in her lips to push down a whine. Karna slides his hand up to grip her waist, and he braces himself on the bed with his left hand as he leans down to kiss her.
“Did I do a good job…?” she asks in a daze once the kiss breaks, and he breathes out a laugh.
“Yes,” he kisses her again, short and sweet, “You were nothing less than perfect.”
The words make her pulse race, and she can't hold back the weak, needy whine that comes out of her this time. It actually catches him off-guard; he blinks, gone quiet and eyes widened in mild surprise, but an amused gleam soon takes them over.
“…Does it excite you?” he says, eyes closing altogether as he begins to kiss against her neck, nipping down to her collarbone and leaving a trail of red marks along it, “To receive my praise.”
He slips his hand off her waist and slides it under her back, lifting her up and off the bed and bringing her closer to him until she's hoisted up from the shoulders down, spine curving under his arm.
“You are worthy of it,” he murmurs, head dipping lower still; he kisses at the start of the swell of her right breast, works a patch of skin until it's red and marked, then repeats the process again, and again, until he's thoroughly left his claim all over her pale skin, and his breath is warm as his lips hover over where she wants them most, “I must surely draw the ire of beings both mortal and Divine for having taken you as my own. For you…are exceptional.”
Wet heat covers her breast. Ritsuka cries out, her voice tapering off into a whine, and her breathing speeds up, growing harsh and frantic. He is leisurely, indulgent, tongue caressing her in long, slow strokes, content to take his time and enjoy that which belongs to him. Her back arches higher, desperate as she tries to push herself more into his mouth as his tongue draws circles around her, and her fingers dive into his fiery hair. It's as warm as the rest of him, strands billowing like an open flame against a light wind. She threads her fingers in and lets locks of red tangle around them.
The longer he goes on, the greedier he gets, and the clearer his own desire becomes, growing stronger with every noise she makes. Ritsuka can feel just how hard he still is as he presses himself between her folds, hips jerking, grinding against her and soaking his length in her arousal and his own previous spend, twitching with every breathy coo of his name that he draws from her throat.
One last time, he drags his tongue against her in one broad, generous swipe, before the heat of his mouth dwindles as he suckles her between his lips. The moan he gets in response is nearly deafening.
He wants to hear it again. He will hear it again. So he sucks harder, even uses his teeth, to provoke that reaction out of her once more—and he receives it. She's even louder than she was previously, her voice cracking in a beautiful, desperate keen, and Karna moans contentedly at her raw declaration of pleasure.
When he pulls back, his lips are slick with saliva, and Ritsuka is panting erratically, fingers tightening and loosening in her hold on his hair before her hands drop entirely. He raises his head up, and eases her down so he can better see her face.
“I have taken you as my divine consort,” he murmurs; his hips shift, and Ritsuka feels the head of his erection press against her, “But now, I would have you simply as a man,” he smiles slightly, eyes crinkling in the corners with overt affection, “I would like to please the woman I love.”
Ritsuka doesn't say anything, but one of her legs, then the other, come up to wrap around his hips, and he grunts as she jerks him forward. He meets her eye again, and is greeted with a glazed-over, heady, and expectant stare.
“…I see,” he speaks with clear amusement, but a fire burns in his eyes, “I suppose I ought not keep you waiting any longer, then.”
The tip sinks into her as he pushes in with a satisfied groan, harmonizing with Ritsuka's own breathless moan as she guides him until he's fully buried within her once more. A gentle sigh passes through her lips. She clenches around him, savoring the feel of him yet again.
Karna doesn't wait, pulling her back up so she's in his lap again, and Ritsuka clings to him, crying out softly from just how deeply he presses, eyes squeezed shut as she succumbs to a full-body tremble. His arm unwinds from around her waist, and he wordlessly coaxes her to pull back. She does, somewhat reluctantly, her hair falling in front of her face as her fingers clutch onto his shoulders, but Karna tucks the stray locks behind her ears and cups her cheek with his palm.
Slowly, Ritsuka opens her eyes to see his own heterochromatic ones staring back at her with unwavering adoration.
“Incredible,” he murmurs, stroking along the blush on her face, “You have never looked more beautiful.”
Electricity shoots up her spine, and she whimpers. Unwavering adoration gives way to playful eyes and a mischievous smile.
“…Perhaps penetration was not necessary. Shall I attempt to satisfy you with praise alone?”
His hand moves off her face, fingers curling around her waist as he dips his head down to nibble at her neck.
“Should I say just how wonderfully you respond to my touch?” he says teasingly, kissing up to a patch of skin just beneath her ear, “Speak of how this alluring body of yours is sensitive no matter where I put my fingers or lips?” his mouth covers hers, and his tongue is ravenous as it twines around her own; he kisses her with so much hunger, like he's trying to devour her, and Ritsuka is lightheaded when he breaks away, “Or would it be better if I told you of just how sweet and heady you taste?”
He kisses her again and releases a quiet, low moan as her tongue slides along his, their lips molding together perfectly. Karna's hand leaves her waist to slip around her back and pull her into him until her chest is rubbing against his, eliciting a whimper from her.
“But maybe you would prefer if I complimented your physical form,” he purrs, and Ritsuka screws her eyes shut and her face gets hotter and hotter as he keeps up the relentless praise, “How well your ample chest fits in my hands, how much I enjoy it when you press yourself against me,” he traces from her hip up to her waist with the fingers on his left hand, “How I find myself entranced by the curve of your slender waist, how it flares wonderfully into wide, soft hips.”
She tries to tip her head down to hide her face, but his fingers grip her chin firmly and he dives in to slot his lips against hers.
“Or perhaps…” he starts as the kiss breaks, “I should speak of how perfectly you take me,” his hips shallowly twitch up, and Ritsuka shudders, “Do you wish to hear that? Would you like to know of the incomparable pleasure you give me, when you're spread open and speared on my c—.”
Ritsuka slaps her hands over his mouth, face redder than his hair.
The room goes completely silent. A moment passes. The silence continues, but, gradually, Ritsuka's tightly closed eyes begin to relax, and cautiously, she opens them halfway to peer out at his face. He actually looks a little surprised, and he blinks as she finally trails her shy stare up to meet his eyes.
And then she feels something wet against her palm.
Half-opened eyes shoot wide in blank disbelief as his own slowly shut. His hands come off her body and reach for her own, holding them tenderly as he presses gentle, affectionate kisses to her palms and fingers.
“You have such delicate hands…” he murmurs, almost absentmindedly, and his lips touch just below her thumb on her left palm before he pauses, smiling a little, “…Forgive me, my love. I find it charming that it excites you to hear me praise you so. But do not think I was exaggerating what I was saying. I meant every word,” he guides her arms to wrap around his neck, and turns his smile up to her, “Ritsuka…you truly are exceptional.”
He wraps his left arm back around her to better hold her close. With his other hand, he cups the side of her face, and brings her lips to his.
Their eyes meet when the kiss breaks. Love has been wholly overtaken by a thick cloud of desire.
“But I have neglected my duty to please you for long enough.”
With a single arm, Karna lifts her up, and his lips twitch up into a smirk as she sinks back onto him with a moan. His right hand grasps her hip and kneads, and he crushes their mouths together, drinking down the gasp she lets out as he starts to move her in earnest.
It's not quite as rough as it had been earlier—he's no longer seeking to claim as much as he was, but he's still so much more assertive than he usually is, sharply thrusting into her as he keeps full control, but she really can't find a whole lot to complain about. He snaps his hips up, and Ritsuka whines, breathing hot and hard into his mouth as his lips meet hers again. Her hands slide all over his back, his enticing heat smoldering beneath her palms as she maps out lean, corded muscles. Karna returns the favor; his hand moves off her hip, goes down to generously grasp at her ass, earning him a soft moan in response. He sinks his fingers into her skin, and grips hard.
He rolls his hips, she grinds down, and her broken, ecstatic cry blends with his subdued groan. On the curve of her ass, black nails sink in and drag down long, red lines.
Somewhere between the harsh, desperate breaths she's been panting as Karna takes her mouth in his, fervid in his obsession to keep their lips together, she manages to gasp out “harder”. Without breaking the kiss or even faltering in pace the smallest amount, she's on her back once again, and he squeezes her ass one last gratuitous time before his right hand leaves her, resting near her head as he braces himself against the bed. The sheets catch in the spaces of his fingers, fabric growing taut and contorting wildly as he repeatedly drives himself into her. He adjusts his hold on her slightly, lifting her up a little with his left arm, but it changes the position just enough that, as he slams inside of her, he hits a spot that makes her see stars.
Ritsuka has the word “there” right on the tip of her tongue, but Karna works his own tongue into her mouth before she's able to get the word out. It ends up being unnecessary, anyway, as he blindly grabs for a pillow and shoves it under her hips, and Ritsuka snaps her legs up around him in an instant, locking her ankles together and digging the soles of her heels into the small of his back, moving in tandem with him and eagerly drawing him forward with every thrust. As he places his right hand back on the sheets to brace himself, veins bulge in his hand from how hard he's gripping the cheap cotton. When the fabric starts ripping apart, neither of them hear it.
Karna finally moves away from her mouth, and Ritsuka's arms unwind from around him as he trails his lips down to start sucking at her neck. He finds spots that are still pale and unblemished, and he readily leaves indents of his teeth behind on her skin, going lower, past her collarbone, marking her all the while. Ritsuka feels nearly delirious, so lightheaded that she misses how he lifts her chest higher, but she absolutely feels the feverish heat of his mouth as he covers her left breast. Her hands shoot back up to grasp onto his hair, euphoric noise after euphoric noise pouring out of her without the slightest sense of shame. She's long past the point of being able to say his name or even gasp out a breathy “yes”, reduced to holding onto his hair for any sort of grounding as he sets her nerves on fire.
He curls his tongue around her before switching to generous, broad strokes, teeth nipping and lips sucking until she's hard and cherry red. Ritsuka whines, high-pitched and enthralled no matter what he does, holding his head to her breast as she clenches and quivers around him with every forceful plunge into her.
Karna snaps back from her and claims her mouth with his. She keeps her hands in his hair. The lines on his body light up again; fire swirls around the top of his left forearm, spiraling up and around his back to wrap under her. Her hands leave his hair, arms winding around his neck instead, holding him close to her. She's right at the edge; he drives into her hard, and she clenches down around him even tighter. Under his hand, her sheets rip more.
Her climax overwhelms her before she can even finish saying his name, pulsing and contracting around him, and he is only seconds behind her. He keeps his lips on hers through it all, swallowing down every gasp, every whine, every tiny noise of pleasure, and he breathes his own moan into her as his hips buck, pumping himself into her so she receives every drop.
Ritsuka loses the strength in her arms, and they fall limply to her bed with a bounce. When Karna takes his lips off of hers, he moves to place a line of soft kisses against her jaw, down to her neck.
“I give myself to you,” he murmurs, and takes her left hand in his right, linking their fingers together.
His head raises, and Ritsuka touches her palm to his cheek, and brings him in to kiss her, slow and sweet.
Her legs come undone from around his waist, and Karna pulls away to examine her again, squeezing her hand before letting it go to touch against the marks he'd left on her neck, going further down still to run the tips of his fingers against her sensitive chest, corner of his lips quirking up as she whimpers softly. His hand trails all the way down to her stomach, splaying out against it, and he hums contemplatively.
“It is a shame, given as I am now, that I could not make you properly conceive. It would be wonderful to see your stomach swell with my child.”
Karna tilts his head slightly, “Oh, are you still dazed from our coupling? My apologies, allow me to repeat myself,” he then proceeds to raise his voice so she can understand him better, “What I said was, it is a shame, given as I am now, that I could not properly make you concei—.”
“ I heard what you said!”
Ritsuka covers her face with her hands, and whimpers to herself, “…oh my God…” while Karna can only stare down at her, confused.
“You are my wife and consort. It is a natural inclination for me to have.”
Hearing him call her his wife, again, makes her grab a pillow and hold it over her face because boy this sure has been a day.
He takes her hands and eases them away from the pillow, before removing it entirely. When he looks at her still-burning face, there is clear amusement on his features.
“Does the idea displease you? Or do you simply see yourself as unworthy?” he leans back down, and catches her lips with his, “Most would consider it an honor, were I to choose them as my consort, even more so should I bless them with my child.”
“It's not—.” Ritsuka squeezes her eyes shut, “I–I'm still technically a teenager! I can't even legally drink yet! If I'm not ready for alcohol, then why would I be ready for a baby?!”
“When I properly ascend to Godhood once more, the laws of mortal men will not apply to you when I bring you with me,” he smiles a little, “But I will concede the point.”
He kisses her again, pulling her out of her thoughts and distracting her before she has time to dwell on everything he just unintentionally implied, and soon, she's shutting her eyes in bliss and wrapping her arms around his neck, moaning against his lips.
“Regardless, it seems I have still not been sated,” he trails his right hand down, and lifts her leg up, “How many times will you let me have you, my love?”
She grins, and meets his lips in a quick kiss.
“Why don't we find out?”
She loses count after the eleventh time.
It goes on longer than that, dear God does it go on longer than that, but eventually she stops bothering to focus on anything else other than just how good it all feels. At least, just before she passed out, he had been able to get the last of it out of his system, and she fell asleep to the feeling of a kiss being placed on the back of her neck while covered in scraps of fabric so charred and shredded and covered in fluids they could only be called “sheets” in a theoretical, conceptual sense.
When she finally wakes up, legs utterly numb and hips more sore than they've ever been in her life, the first thing she notices is that the sheets on her bed feel fresh, all nice and clean and crisp and not at all resembling the biohazardous mass of scorched polyester and cotton she'd blacked out on face-first after she'd had her voice fucked out of her. The second thing she notices is that she's wearing clothes—an oversized sleep shirt and a plain pair of underwear—and does not feel nearly as sweaty and sticky and covered in Everything that she had been when she fell asleep. The third thing she notices is Karna, kneeling at the side of her bed, head in his arms on her bed. He's back to normal, at least physically; white hair, black skin fully covering his arms up to his shoulders. On her nightstand is an entire bottle of painkillers and a glass of water.
Ritsuka's features soften as she looks at him, a smile appearing on her face, and she reaches over to gently run her fingers through his hair.
“Good morning,” she says, unsurprisingly, hoarsely.
His shoulders rise with an inaudible sigh, and then slump back down just as silently. He's quiet for a few more moments.
“…I have been here for some time, trying to figure out how to approach this,” he starts, “…But I…I don't know what to say. I have no idea what could possibly be good enough to fit a situation like this.”
The sound of his voice is muffled somewhat as he keeps his head in his arms, and he goes quiet again after he speaks.
He lowers his head further.
“I'm sorry,” he says softly, “That is the very least you deserve from me right now.”
Ritsuka's smile grows a little wider, and her hand stops stroking at his hair.
“Can I see your face?”
He hesitates, muscles noticeably stiffening up. She waits patiently, doesn't give him any motion to hurry, and slowly, he lifts his head out of his arms. When he's finally raised his head all the way up, he still keeps his eyes firmly pointed downward. Her palm moves to caress the side of his face.
“How much do you remember from yesterday?”
At that question, his eyes shut tightly. Ritsuka can feel the heat of his skin grow even warmer as a flush blooms on both his cheeks.
She strokes her thumb against his cheekbone.
“Well, if you remember everything, then you should know that there was nothing I didn't consent to. I'm not upset at all. Just sore. And hoarse,” she smiles at him gently, “You don't have to prostrate yourself, Karna.”
“I—.” Karna's flush dies down, and his eyes open, heavy with guilt, “I still treated you terribly. Even with our relationship being…what it is, you are still my Master, and I acted like I was above you. I treated you as if you're something to be possessed, and I—.” Karna grows rigid with embarrassment, “…I–I called you my consort,” he glances off toward the side, “When, thinking about it, it would really be the other way around…”
'Called it,' Ritsuka thinks to herself.
“B–But regardless, I didn't act how I should have towards you. With how I spoke to you—.”
“You know, you didn't just call me your consort. You also called me your wife,” her smile widens even further, “Wanna enlighten me on that one?”
His eyes slowly close again. The flush on his face comes back in full force.
“…” he opens his eyes, but doesn't look at her, instead glancing off to the side once more, “…In the past, there have been times where I have entertained the thought of asking you to marry me. I never thought it was something that I would need to voice…with all the responsibilities you already have, I don't want to burden you with my own unnecessary desires.”
“I'll admit, marriage hasn't exactly crossed my mind a lot. But…I'm not opposed to it. And…maybe in the future, we might actually be able to have a serious conversation about it,” she sweeps his hair out of his eyes, “How often have you thought about it?”
Karna flushes brighter.
“…Every day since you confessed your feelings to me,” he says bashfully.
Ritsuka bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“If you remember everything, do you remember the whole “how wonderful it would be to see my stomach swell with your child” thing?”
His face turns even redder.
“Wanna enlighten me on that one, too?”
He tips his head down, away from the cheeky look she's giving him.
“…There have also been times in the past where I've thought that, if it were possible, it would be nice to…start a family with you…”
“And how often has that one been?”
“E—.” Karna starts outright exerting steam, “Every day since you confessed your feelings to me.”
Ritsuka covers her mouth as she laughs, then leans down to sweetly kiss the top of his head.
“Stop being so hard on yourself about this. I liked seeing you act like that, once you slowed down a little,” she runs her fingers through his hair again, “And you still cleaned me up afterwards, too. Did you even change my sheets?”
“Yes,” he starts, then glances away, “They were…unsalvageable,” he looks at her again, still holding guilt in his eyes, “It was the least I could do after I disrespected you.”
“Oh, is that what we're calling it, now?”
Karna pulls his lips in tight, and his face burns.
“Ritsuka…” her name comes out as an embarrassed plea.
She laughs again.
“C'mon, get up here, already.”
There's a marked moment of hesitation, but he slowly stands up, and sits facing her with his legs crossed. Ritsuka holds out her arms; he can't stop the way his lips quirk up into a smile, and gently, he pulls her towards him until she's settled comfortably in his lap.
“I really did like it, so don't beat yourself up over this. You weren't disrespectful at all—you were really sweet, in a new way,” she nuzzles into his neck, “Poetic, too. I don't think repeatedly using “my love” towards me is as terrible as you think it is. But if you really think calling me your “consort” and saying possessive stuff about me was bad, well, I think you more than made up for it with how relentlessly you kept complimenting me,” she pulls back from him, and cups his face with her hands, “So let yourself off the hook already, okay?”
In spite of what she says, he still looks unsure. Ritsuka bites back her exasperation, and leans in to kiss him, instead. It's unhurried, and gentle, and slowly, he begins to kiss her back.
When the kiss breaks, Ritsuka's eyes are large, and she tilts her head to the side curiously.
“By the way, what did you end up doing with the Spiritron Dress thing?”
“I returned it to Da Vinci for the time being. I would rather not lose myself like that again, if I can help it…she said she would try and adjust it to prevent it from happening in the future.”
“Oh,” Ritsuka's voice falls in audible disappointment, “You mean you won't ever act like that again?”
“…” Karna's expression becomes pensive, “…Do you want me to?”
“I mean, not every time, obviously, but, once in a while…I'd be okay with it,” she kisses beneath his jaw, smiling, “I wouldn't mind being your consort every now and again.”
“I–I see,” his cheeks tinge pink, “I will do my best to oblige you, then.”
Ritsuka regards him sympathetically.
“Karna, you still have a hard time just looking at me when I suck your dick. Are you really going to be able to stare me dead in the eye and tell me how good it feels when you're inside me?”
His eyes shut tightly.
“…No,” he admits, voice laced with embarrassment, “Probably not.”
“So you wanna—?”
“I'll return shortly.”