Blade of the Immortal, Hyakurin/Rin, protective streak
Hyakurin's breath is warm and smoky in the dark. "If you want to be strong," she breathes against Rin's skin, "you won't rely on your man to do all your fighting for you. A woman has to be strong in this world." Rin feels dizzy, swaddled in smoke, short of breath. Hyakurin's eyes are the saddest things Rin's ever seen, but her hands are soft and warm.
"It's better," - and still warm, as those hands pull Rin's sleeping robe open - "if you know, how to take care of yourself." And Rin twitches, shifting at the gentle, practiced touch brushing at the sides of her breasts, and then lower. She closes her eyes and Hyakurin makes a low noise that might be amusement or anything, really.
"Is this really - "
"Shh," Hyakurin's voice is warm, amused, as her hand knifes between Rin's legs, fingers carefully opening her. "Men get petty about this kind of thing. They don't like having it waved in their faces, that a woman doesn't need them."
Hyakurin's fingers do something - hook up, curve, pull at her in some strange good way, sliding in the moisture Rin's nascent desire produces. "Oh," Rin breathes, the noise dropping from her mouth round and smooth as a river stone, sliding her thighs against Hyakurin's hand. Hyakurin kisses the corner of her open mouth, so different, softer, gentler than anything Rin's ever pictured or imagined before -