Gokusen, Shin/Kumiko, future!fic, there would always be something hot about a woman who could ...
Shin had learned a lot about fighting over the years, and by now his matches were occasions of excited interest in the city’s underworld. Kumi members from all over the city considered it an honor to spar with the Red Lion, but there was one person he never sparred with in public.
His wife.
Outsiders unfamiliar with the Kuroda heiress didn’t think much of it—sure, a yakuza woman had to be tough and strong-minded, but no one was actually expecting her to get down and dirty in a bare-knuckles fight. And the Kuroda family, who knew Kumiko very well, were pretty sure they knew exactly why Shin never allowed an audience for his conjugal spars: it wouldn’t do for the family’s brilliant young Fourth Generation Head to be seen getting his ass kicked by his wife in ten seconds flat.
This…was only partly true.
Mostly, he just didn’t want an audience for something that ended up being foreplay more often than not.
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“Oryaaaaa!” Kumiko charged at him, fist cocked back for a punch.
Shin stood his ground until the last moment, then dodged, grabbed her sleeve, and swept her feet out from under her. They went down with a heap with Shin on top, and he wound his arms around her, pinning her down.
She wriggled and squirmed, trying to throw him off. He grinned down at her, enjoying his momentary superiority and the feeling of her smaller body underneath his. She scowled adorably back in return, then did a little shimmy and arched up against him in a way that sent electricity through him--and that unbalanced him enough for her to flip him over and straddle him.
She was on top now, pinning him, grinning down at him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Her arm was locked around his neck in a judo hold, and they were practically nose-to-nose, panting breaths mixing between them. Shin couldn’t resist stretching up and kissing her half-open mouth, flicking out his tongue to swipe along her lower lip. She started and lost concentration—she should really learn, he got her with this tactic all the time—and he managed to break out of her grip and stagger to his feet.
“You fight dirty!” she accused him, glaring from across the courtyard.
“And? So?” He grinned, shrugging his yukata’s shoulder back into place over a tattoo. She hesitated a moment, mesmerized by the movement, then shook her head to clear it.
“So your teacher should have taught you better than that! I think you need a lesson!”
She charged at him again in a flurry of punches and kicks, and now he was just dodging them, no hope of attacking. Finally, she landed a solid axe-kick to his forehead and he went down like a stone.
When he came to, Kumiko was hovering over him looking a worried and guilty and angry that she was worried and guilty, and he just grinned at her and pulled her down for a real kiss.